Pins: A Novel Read Free Page A

He longed to kick his brother under the table, but that didn’t work anymore. Mike always told.
    “What’s this about jackets?” Joey could tell when his father pretended to not know what was up, like whenever he did anything wrong. His dad liked to drag it out of him, force him to report everything. Only then would he pass judgment.
    Sophia gulped milk.
    “I made varsity. You know, that pin I got at the match this week. I wish you’da been there, Mom.” Wrong. Don’t bring that up. “I got on varsity. I got my letter. I’m the best in my weight and it’s an honor and but I gotta buy it, the jacket, ‘cause I get to keep it. . .”
    His father wiped his mouth. “Awright, awright. Can I congratulate my son before he talks me to sleep? We’ll see about the jacket. Can’t be too expensive.”
    “Two hunnerd-forty-nine dollahs.”
    “What?”
    “Plus tax.”
    “What?”
    “They make it to fit. They charge extra for the letter sewing, but Mom said she’d do that, but I gotta get my name embroiled on the chest like everybody else–”
    “Embroidered.”
    “How much allowance ya got?”
    Joey shot a glance at The Pest. He didn’t want Mike to know about his money. He would find it for sure, always snooping in his room, nosing into his stuff, like his drawings; superheroes, but sometime, he forgot to draw the tights. Joey rarely caught Mike, or noticed the remnants of his snooping. He’d become clever. “About thirty dollahs.”
    “Let’s say you pay for the embroidering, and we make this an early Christmas present.”
    “Thanks, Dad.” Joey couldn’t help himself. He got up from the table, hugged, kissed his dad, liking the feel of his father’s mustache on his face, then his mom, the soft moist feel of her skin. He smiled, felt as if he’d gotten away with something. They wouldn’t dare get to Christmas and not give him anything else besides the jacket.
    “So, I take it you’re havin’ a good time on your new team’?” his father asked as Joey sat.
    A good time? It was his whole life, what kept him safe, what he loved. It kept his great secret, hidden away, right out front.
    “Sure.”
    “Are they nice boys?” his mother asked.
    “Sure.”
    “That boy from St. Dominic’s, Anthony Lambros. You friends with him?”
    Friends was not the right word for Anthony.
    “Why you askin’ about him?”
    “Because I met his mother at Mass, she’s in my St. Anne’s group there, we do work with the church and–”
    “Yeah, right. Okay. I’m sorry.”
    “His mother told me he’s having problems.”
    Problems being a geek? “He’s on the team,” Joey shrugged. “You know, he’s at practice. He’s awright. I dunno. He does okay. He’s not great, but he just started this year.”
    Why was she bugging him about Anthony? Would she invite the Lambros family over for dinner? Did she want him to make friends with Anthony just because she met his mother? Didn’t she know it didn’t work that way?
     
    Lambros.
    They looked very much alike; thin, sallow-skinned, black-haired, eyes like brown pearls. But without his glasses, Lambros squinted like a baby rat with a big nose. He and Joey were the only sophomore Catholic Italian wrestlers in Joey’s new school. Anthony thought that meant they should be friends.
    Joey thought otherwise.
    Draped in white and black vestments, the usually sullen Anthony glowed on Sunday when he assisted in Mass. Joey often had to be elbowed by his mother to stand, sit or kneel, his attention sometimes rapt on Anthony’s almost superior stance.   Anthony obviously enjoyed the power trip.   Joey wanted to admire him, but at the same time wanted to see him fumble, or   one day drop the incense.
    Anthony had cornered Joey at lunch since the first school day after recognizing him from church.   Since Joey didn’t have any friends before wrestling started, he pretty much allowed Anthony to eat with him.
    Anthony delighted in telling secrets about Mass that Joey