Shirt

18 minutes
316 words


It was always the same. Charlie loved playing basketball. In fact, he thought he was rather good at it. But he was five years younger than the rest of the boys in his gym class, and at least a foot shorter than most of them. So when it was time to pick teams, he was always last. Most of the times Don was merciful and picked Charlie to be on his team. Not always, but today was one of those days.

The next issue was one that frightened Charlie even more than being the last one chosen. One team would get to keep wearing their shirts during the game. The other would be the skins. Charlie avoided every opportunity to expose his bare skin to the other boys in the class.

They were all eighteen or so, and well past puberty. Charlie, on the other hand, was just barely thirteen and still possessed what his mother lovingly called ‘baby fat’ instead of the muscles his classmates possessed. Not only that, his chest was completely bare. Not one hair.

So Charlie cringed when Bennie Rosenthal, the captain of the other team, boomed, “We’re shirts this time, Eppes. You guys are skins."

Don didn’t even have to look at Charlie to know what was going through his little brother’s head. “Nope, Bennie. We get shirts.”

“You always get shirts. It’s our turn,” Bennie took a step toward Don.

“What? You got something to hide?”

“No. No way.” Bennie sized up Don then shrugged. “Okay. You can be shirts. We got nothing to hide, right guys?”

Charlie breathed a sigh of relief, then huddled up with his team. He met Don’s eyes and grinned. Don ruffled his hair. “Come on, Squirt. You’re our secret weapon, our Muggsy Bogues.”

“I’ll run circles around those giants,” Charlie laughed. As they broke the huddle, he nudged Don. “Thanks.”

“Any time,” Don whispered

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