145th Street

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Book: 145th Street Read Online Free PDF
Author: Walter Dean Myers
Tags: Fiction
In Manny’s ring talk it meant that the guy was being groomed, that he had been carefully brought along and given only fights he was expected to win. In the office, when they planned the fights and decided what the money would be, the Puerto Rican would be considered the “fighter” and Billy would be the “opponent.” The Puerto Rican’s name was Danny Vegas.
    “Okay, boys, you know the game, keep up the pace.” The referee had finished the introductions and called them to the center of the room. The heat was unbearable. “I don’t want to have to tell you to fight. Give the folks a show. Touch gloves now.”
    Billy touched gloves and went back to his corner.
    “If you get him,” Manny said, rubbing Billy’s shoulders, “there could be some breaks involved.” He didn’t sound convincing.
    The bell rang.
    Billy came to the center of the ring and snapped a glove out. It was a quick move and hit Vegas on the forehead. Crouching low for a minute and then quickly straightening, he faked Vegas out of position and banged his hands to the wiry body. They backed off and circled each other cautiously. Billy told himself that he would win, that he could take this guy. He threw jabs, feeling Vegas out, checking out his moves. Vegas, for his part, seemed not too anxious to mix it up with him and they spent most of the first round fighting at a distance.
    Sitting in his corner always made Billy think of commercials being played on television between the rounds. His trainer gave him a swig of seltzer, which he spit into the bucket. He’d been shocked, after his first fight, to discover that he was expected to pay for even the seltzer he used between rounds.
    In the second round, Billy found out why Manny had called Vegas a comer. They were in close, shoulder to shoulder, and Billy was again throwing punishing hits to the body, hearing Vegas grunt from the force of the blows. Billy could have continued fighting on the inside while he had the advantage but elected instead to back away for more power. He had, for a moment, an image of himself, fists flashing, rendering Vegas helpless against the ropes. Billy backed off, feinted once, jabbed, feinted again, twice, disregarded completely a right thrown by Vegas as he prepared a series of blows to the body and head.
    He didn’t see the blow coming and it stunned him. There was a sudden lack of focus and a scary awareness of his knees. Billy pushed off and bobbed and weaved. Vegas didn’t know that he’d been hurt, and when Billy managed to throw a light jab it was Vegas who grabbed and held on. Then they were apart again and Vegas was snapping his glove in Billy’s face. Billy thought he was cut.
    The glare from the overhead lights gave Vegas’s face an unreal appearance. Billy felt almost as if he were fighting a thing rather than a man. Vegas would try a move and Billy would know what he was going to do, but he couldn’t stop it. He could see the confidence in his opponent’s face.
    Now he was against the ropes with Vegas punching him in the body, jolting nausea into him in sharply swelling waves. Billy was having trouble keeping his mouthpiece in. For a moment Vegas dropped his hands and with a frenzy Billy lashed out at him, more in fury than with any plan.
    There were noises from the crowd as Vegas backed across the ring. Billy was surprised to find himself following, throwing punches. They were apart again, circling one another, when suddenly Vegas turned and went to his corner. Billy hadn’t heard the bell ring but walked back to his own corner.
    “Maybe you could go to school. Take IBM or something.” Johnnie Mae sat on the bed, pushing the baby back into the middle whenever she crawled near the edge. “It would be hard but you have to make sacrifices.”
    Some people could do it. When Billy thought of them he always pictured young guys with glasses and attaché cases sitting primly on the A train and thumbing through a thick book. He had told Johnnie Mae that
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