Ben gestured toward Alex. “I know him.”
“Hey Alex, you know this kid?”
Alex stopped the guitar, paused with both legs wide in a rocker pose and looked at Ben, hunched on the floor. Shook his head.
“Nah, man. I don’t hang out with middle schoolers.”
This was the sort of s**t they always gave him. Ben had thought the new black hair would have helped, made him look less young. But guys just liked to f**k with him, or ignore him. It was something about the way he was built, or the way he walked, or something in his blood. He was always picked third to last in any team game—the afterthought boy who was grabbed right before the real shitballs. Guys seemed to know it instantly; they flirted with Diondra in front of him all the time. Like they knew his d**k wilted a little bit when he entered
