Do Not Be Overheard Complaining: Zone II With A Twist: And Ground Beef For Life

When the reckoning came, JP became something different.

JP was better than me at everything.

School, basketball, rollerblading, even conversation — JP made everything look about as difficult as breathing. It drove me crazy.

Every afternoon after school, we went to local pick-up games. I was good, but JP was great. His ball handling, three-pointers, and confidence were so great that it was as if the court was made of water, JP was Jaws, and I was the tourist riding the banana.

It was too much for my pre-puberty mind to handle, so I did what any self-respecting pre-teen would do. I blamed my parents.

Dad was a drunk and mom worked a lot. What better excuse did I need for coming up short?

One day, JP asked me if I wanted to crash at his place, watch a few movies, play some games, eat lots of junk food, and stay up all night. The fact that he waited so long to ask never occurred to me until…