nd　tossed

downstream　without　a　serving　spoon。

I　was　basket　boy　number　nine。　Which　meant　I　had　to　stand　there　on　the　stage　in　the　gym

while　nearly　half　the　guys　got　auctioned　off。　Minimum　bid；

ten　bucks。　And　if　nobody　bid；　the　secret　was　a　teacher　was　assigned　to　bid　on　you。

Yes；　my　friend；　the　possibilities　for　mortification　were　infinite。

Some　of　the　moms　showed　up　and　stood　off　to　the　side　with　their　camcorders　and　zoom

lenses；　fidgeting　and　waving　and　basically　acting　as

………　Page　76………

dweeby　as　their　sons　looked。　I　should　know。　My　mom　took　an　hour　off　work　to　be　one　of

them。

Tim　Pello　was　basket　boy　number　five；　and　his　mom　actually　bid　on　him。　No　kidding。　She

jumped　up　and　down；　yelling；　“Twenty！　I'll　give　you

twenty！”　Man；　that'll　brand　you　for　life。　Lucky　for　Tim；　Kelly　Trott　came　up　with　twenty…two　fifty

and　saved　his　sorry　self　from　everlasting　torture　as　a

mama's　boy　—　one　of　the　few　fates　worse　than　basket　boy。

Caleb　Hughes　was　up　next；　and　he　fetched　the　Boosters　all　of　eleven　fifty。　Then　came　Chad

Ormonde；　who　I　swear　was　ready　to　pee　his　pants

when　Mrs。　McClure　made　him　step　forward。　She　read　his　card；　pinched　his　cheeks；　and

raked　in　fifteen　even。

At　this　point　what　stood　between　me　and　the　auction　block　was　Jon　Trulock。　And　I　wasn't

exactly　interested　in　what　he　had　in　his　basket　or　what

his　hobbies　and　favor