After making the basket, he let me take a shot or two, but then he started backing into me again. I tried to hold my ground, but I was no match for his weight. He stopped, turned, and bounced the ball between my legs-retrieving it behind me and then slamming it in the basket. The onlookers howled.
I stood there for a moment, staring. He came up and rubbed my head. This made everyone on the stairs laugh even more. I could feel my face getting red and I walked off, angry as hell. How could he do this to me in front of everyone like that?
No one had explained to me that Streetball had as much to do with theatrics as anything else. It wasn't winning so much as it was about humiliating your opponent.
"Oh Lord," Slide Step said, shaking his head. "Come on back, Timmy."
I wasn't having it. I marched up the stairs and the guys moved out of my way, but their amusement was only intensified. I stopped at the top landing and turned to face him. I could feel my rage boiling up from the new sneakers Slide Step had just bought me.
He looked at me and his face got serious-his eyes darting, for an instant, to the guys who were standing there. His look said, "No, don't do it!" But it was too late; the rumble was already causing my head to vibrate. I struggled for the words.
The inmates were silent.
"You ... you ... black bastard!"
Slide Step dropped his head, and shook it.
I turned and stormed into the building. I couldn't help it. It just slipped out of me. When I first said "You ..." a hush came over the crowd of convicts standing in the gallery. And as soon as I said, "Black Bastard," there was a ricochet of "ooooohhhs" from the balcony. "Someone's got an ass whippin' coming now," I heard one of then say.
I ran up the stairs and down the hall. At the officer's station I turned left down the corridor that led to the individual cells. Mine was the last one on the left. The guards had moved me after Slide Step and Red beat up some guy who was messing with me in the dorms. I don't know how the guards knew about that-but they did. I wondered why they didn't do something, after I was raped, but there was no way I could talk to them about it.
I slammed my cell door and sat in the chair, opening the locker to block my view from the hall. I knew I was in big trouble, but I didn't care. I had disrespected him in public, and now he had to do something about it. If he didn't, his own manhood would be called into question.
There was a knock at my door. I jumped at first, but chose to ignore it. I was surprised he got up there as quickly as he did. He knocked again.
"Open the door, Tim," Slide Step said. "I know you're in there."
"No," I said.
"Open the door!"
"No!"
"C'mon," his voice softened. "Let me in."
I knew not to challenge his authority, especially in front of the other inmates.
"C'mon Timmy-open the damn door."
"Uh uh," I said. "You're gonna hit me." I started to cry.
"I'm not going to hit you, just open the door." He sounded sincere, but I didn't trust him. "C'mon, Timmy. Have I ever hit you?"
I was afraid to let him in, but I didn't know what else to do. I would have to come out sooner or later, so I opened the door.
He rushed in, pinning me back against the chair. The locker slammed into the wall and made a huge bang that echoed up the hall. Terrified, I let out a breathless whimper, but before I knew it, he stuck his tongue deep inside my mouth. He was kissing me, passionately, as the tears continued down my face. We climbed under the bed, to hide from view of a passing guard, and Slide Step fucked me for the first time.
16
Blemished Masculinities
Her name was Beth and she was tivogrades ahead of me-I in the seventh and she in the ninth. The kids called her Pizza Face.
When it first happened, I didn't have time to think. Three or four girls had her pinned against the lockers. "Break it, Break it, Break it," they taunted. They were trying to get her to pop a zit, the size of a boil, on her cheek. The others were cheering them on.
I felt sorry for her, so I pushed the girl closest to me. "Why don't you leave her alone?"
The girls backed down and retreated up the hall. Beth looked up at me and smiled. Embarrassed, I shied away. We only had five minutes in between classes and what I needed from my locker (which was next to hers) could wait.
That afternoon and for several days following, she greeted me with the same fluttering eyes, I started to regret helping her and was embarrassed by the teasing I was getting from the guys.
Finally, I told her, "Beat it, Pizza Face."
I can still see that look on Beth's face, which said I'd done something worse than anything those girls could have ever done. And every pimple I have gotten since has reminded me of her.
We were sitting alone at the back of the day room. Most everyone else had gone to chow. The midday news was on TV. President Carter was trying to end a thirty-year war between Israel and Egypt by inviting both sides to Camp David. The last remaining inmate got up to leave.
"Now if they at war," he said. "Why would a motherfucker want to go camping?"
Slide Step looked over at me and shrugged. He was sitting sideways, next to me, in the orange rocker. When the man walked out Slide Step placed both of his hands on top of mine. It was the first time I noticed how
