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table. “The first one to win, if they win , runs to the circle and fights the last guy standing from the last round. They fight their way to the Irish flag over there.” He points to a tiny flag on a stake in the grass which is barely visible in the dark. First one to grab it is the winner.” Troy says triumphantly.
    “Cool,” Vito says.
    “Cool?” I exclaim. “That’s barbaric!” Antonio, Vito, and even Troy give me weird expressions. I laugh at myself. Considering the turns my life has taken, it is just boys having fun.
    “No one is forced Megan,” Troy reassures me. “It’s their choice. And if you can’t make it through the first trials you can’t do the last, the fighting.” True.
    “Have you done it?” I ask him.
    “No, no... I’m too pretty for that.” Troy says joking, as he motions towards the ruckus of fighting.
    Antonio snorts. He moves behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, a loving and possessive gesture.
    “The next one is just about to start. See the girls lined up over there?” Troy asks.
    We walk towards two lines of girls holding large plastic cups. Two guys stand at the end, shirtless and barefoot in the cold. They are pumped up, hooting and hollering. The word ‘GO!’ echoes through the crowd.
    The guys run to the girls and start drinking. They are gulping and sloshing the beer all over themselves. After they finish each cup, they ceremoniously throw them down on the ground. They move down the line fairly quickly. Cheers and chanting follow them. One guy even wastes precious seconds kissing one of the girls. “Ooooh...” resonates among the spectators.
    Kissy-Guy finishes first and runs to the arm wrestling table. Sweat and beer fly off him as he shakes his head trying to clear it. He sits down and lines himself up for arm wrestling.
    The other guy, quite ungracefully,trips into the table. He is fighting the fuzziness of the beer. Kissy-Guy is already immersed in wrestling. He is struggling to gain an advantage. The challenger doesn’t have a chance; he can barely keep his hand straight. His opponent is laughing at him.
    Vito is watching this whole thing delighted. Finally, Kissy-Guy flips Bubba or Jake’s arm to the table. Then he runs with difficulty to the waiting crowd on the other side of the grass. Standing in the middle is the winner of the last round.
    Kissy-Guy gets a punch in and tries to run towards the flag, but the challenger grabs his legs and flattens him to the ground. They struggle, punching and kicking. We watch and, occasionally, I hear Antonio snickering in my ear. He thinks this whole gauntlet thing is funny.
    “How ‘bout a little fun, Tonio?” Vito says mischievously, rubbing his hands together like he’s waiting for his Christmas gifts.
    Erin is quiet and shakes her head. She still hasn’t looked at Troy.
    “Nah, man,” Antonio says chuckling. He is nuzzling my neck. “I already beat the shit out of someone today.” Troy’s head swings around to Antonio, shocked. I reach to touch his hands that are laced across my stomach. His knuckles are swollen and rough. It never dawned on me that he might have caught the guy his dad had him chasing. “You go. I’ll stay with the girls.”
    Vito’s face lights up. Oh yeah, it’s Christmas! Then he grins at Troy, “Where do I sign up?”
    Troy and Vito walk away from us, heads together, talking. I think Troy might have made a new friend.
    A few people converge on them as Antonio, Erin, and I stand back towards the road. We still have a great view though. Through the throngs of people, we see Vito emerge shirtless and barefoot.
    “I guess there wasn’t a very long line,” Antonio says is my ear.
    “I guess not,” I say. “I’m nervous.” Antonio shifts me so that I can see his face.
    “Don’t be,” he says smiling.
    Erin takes my hand, apparently worried too.
    Someone yells ‘GO!’ and Vito and his challenger are off. Vito is much broader and larger than his opponent, definitely more