Handball High

Handball High Chapter 1

The Sunday afternoon was warm and bright. The sun glimmered off the metallic gray paint of a beach cruiser as it rolled through the paved city streets on its way to the local park.  The chrome fenders sparkled as did the handlebars and wheels as the bike rolled up and down driveways and curbs.  The chrome on the handlebars disappeared into the black foam hand grips and extended to the brown hands and slender arms of its young rider.  The shiny chrome of the crank reflected the sun on nearby cars as it rotated with each push of the spiked pedals and the spring of the outstretched forks squeaked as the bike made its way down the street.

The street leading into the rear entrance of the park belonged to a quiet neighborhood with mature trees in front of each house.  Some houses were nicer than others with manicured lawns, nicely trimmed hedges and clean concrete surrounding them. Other houses had brown and unkept grass and shrubs, oil stained driveways and lifted sidewalks caused by the roots of the large trees in their yards.  The young rider was well aware of every bump and crack in these sidewalks as he zig-zagged from one side of the quiet street to the other making sure he covered each one.  He enjoyed hitting the lifted areas of the sidewalk and rolling up and down the curbs pretending he was cruising in a lowrider car equipped with hydraulics.  At each bump in the sidewalk and imperfection in the street he would relax his body and allow it to bounce rhythmically to whatever song he happened to be playing in his head.

Finally at its destination, the fat white walled tires of the cruiser gripped the dirt and loose gravel of the parking lot creating a small white cloud as it approached a small bridge separating the parking lot from the caged tennis courts that bordered the edge of the park. The cruiser made its way to the opposite side of the tennis courts and stopped at the trails end between two square patches of grass.  The young rider threw one leg over the bike and released the kick stand as he nodded his head slightly to those who looked his way. He reached down with one hand and dusted the white powder that had collected on his shoes from the dusty gravel parking lot.  From his shoes he went to his socks, pulling them up tight above his calves then adjusting the belt worn on his knee length denim shorts.  He had taken off his baseball cap which he had worn backwards while wiping any dust off his oversized t-shirt.

Abner was a good-looking thirteen-year-old boy with a thin and athletic build.  His straight hair combed back and held in place with the help of his cap.  He had a serious look to his face yet his eyes seemed to smile.  He was a respectful and quiet young man around adults but liked to joke around and be silly when he was with his friends.  Abner had just finished his eight-grade year and was a week into his summer vacation prior to starting high school.  He hadn't been doing much since school let out and had grown bored hanging around his apartment complex.  Equipped with his new beach cruiser, a graduation gift from his father, he decided to head out to the park.

He had just finished gathering himself from his ride and getting his clothes right when he heard fast approaching footsteps and someone yelling "Bola! Bola!"

He looked up to see a grown Mexican man with his shirt off running directly at him with his hand cocked ready to swing.  He was able to grab his bike and move it out of the way just as the man slapped at a blue racquetball which he missed.

"Que onda Abner?  Ya ni la chinges.  You know this space is for bola", the man said in his broken English.

Three other Mexicanos, grown men in there 20's and 30's, playing in the handball courts gave him a look and shook their heads.  The Mexicanos were cool.  They were always at the park drinking beer and playing handball.  They liked Abner and he liked them too.  Abner would practice with them when they were waiting for one another to arrive or in between their games.  He also tracked down balls hit over the wall and kept look out when they fought during games or smoked marijuana.  Sometimes they would leave beers behind in the grass when they left for the day knowing Abner was there.  However, they would never hand him a beer or offer him any marijuana or other drugs for that matter.