Curveball : The Year I Lost My Grip (9780545393119) (2012) - Plot & Excerpts
At some point in the early morning hours, I had passed out in Angelika’s lap. At some later point, I had been woken up by a rush of vomit in my throat, tried to roll over, and spun to the ground from the hammock that AJ had somehow managed to move me to. Sadly, AJ’s porch hammock is suspended about three feet above a brick floor. Brick is cold, it’s hard, and it has one other really negative quality: Liquids splatter when they hit it. By the time AJ came out to check on me at 5:45 A.M. or so, I was huddled on the wicker couch again, wrapped in a fuzzy-lined tarp I had pulled off of his mom’s barbecue grill, shivering, and bleeding from abrasions to my right palm and my left knee. Which of course meant that (A) my pants were ripped, and (B) I had gotten blood all over the lining of the tarp. Plus, the whole front of my shirt was flecked with dried barf, and my head hurt like somebody was dropping a rock on it every half second. From a great height. And the taste in my mouth? You don’t even want to know.
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