At basketball practice the guys started to call him ‘Mav,’ the nickname of the team, and he loved it.
It wasn’t ‘Bandy Legs’ or ‘Buck Tooth’ , nicknames he’d heard flung at others, it was a name he could be proud of it.
When Friday came, he stopped at Lou’s Diner on his way home. He saw the same behaviour that had freaked him last week, but like passing a cess pool, expected the stink.
He mentioned the game, went home, walking in his saunter style.