Guess who made this year’s top twenty. You’d think mothers would say,
Hey, there’s no way you’re going to auction my son off to the highest bidder, but no.
Instead, they’re all flattered that their son’s been elected a basket boy. Yes, my friend, that’s what they call you.
Over the P.A. you hear stuff like, “There will be an organizational meeting of the newly elected basket boys in the MPR at lunch today.
All basket boys must attend.” Pretty soon you’ve completely lost your name.
You and nineteen other saps are known simply as Basket Boy.
My mom, of course, was into it, coming up with all sorts of stuff to put in my basket so I’d get the highest bid.
I tried to explain that I didn’t want to be in Mayfield Junior High’s Basket Boy Hall of Fame,
and that really, what was in the basket didn’t matter.
It wasn’t like girls were bidding on the basket. When you got right down to it, this was a meat market.
You eat lunch on campus and that’s the end of it. It is hardly a meat market, Bryce. It’s an honor!
Besides, maybe someone really nice will bid on you and you’ll make a new friend!”
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