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skip school that day, and wanted to catch him in the act. He had phoned the house, but there was no answer. That could mean he was at school, or that he was smart enough not to pick up.
    Ralston was angry and ready to deal with Kevin when he got home. But he wasn’t ready for what he found.
    He drove up the alley behind the house, parked his old minivan and walked up through the back yard. As he made his way through the back yard up to the house, he noticed Kevin, a defiant look on his face, standing at the back window staring out at him. Although Kevin rarely stood up to him and never in any meaningful way, Ralston knew he was in for something of a fight, so he steeled himself for a confrontation.
    Ralston didn’t have a key, so he motioned for Kevin to let him in. Kevin ignored him. Angry and confused, Ralston tapped on the glass and repeated the gesture. Kevin eventually complied, but when Ralston got to the door, Kevin blocked his way. Ralston was taken aback. He knew that Kevin had gotten big, but he had never been confronted with his strength before. Even so, Ralston—just as heavy, but about three inches shorter—pushed him aside.
    Once inside the house, Ralston confronted his stepson. “You smell like smoke,” he said. Kevin was not allowed to smoke, and he knew he’d get in trouble if he got caught, so, out of reflex, he made up an excuse about hanging around with some kids at school who were smoking. The smell, he claimed, must have come from them.
    Ralston sat down in the living room and was unnerved to see Kevin looming over him, nervous and expectant. Ralston could see wine glasses with cigarette butts in them scattered around the room and smoke in the air. Suddenly, a boy he didn’t recognize (Tim) came running down the stairs frantically. Kevin wasn’t allowed to have guests without a parent present and not at all when he was grounded, and Ralston became very angry. “What are you doing in my upstairs?” he yelled at Tim, more for Kevin to hear than the younger boy. Tim and Ralston locked eyes, and the frightened teenager, tears welling in his eyes, cried out: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” and fled through the front door.
    At about the same time, a very sheepish-looking Pierre emerged from the basement. That cut it for Ralston. Not only had Kevin been smoking, but he had two guests over, one of which had clearly done something stupid. Instead of losing his temper entirely, he decided to call Joanne, Kevin’s mom, who was at work. He told Kevin exactly what he was doing.
    Kevin slapped the phone out of his hand, shouting, “No, you’re not!”
    That was enough; Ralston knew he had to put his foot down before things spiraled totally out of his control. “What are you doing?” he bellowed.
    That’s when Kevin lunged at his stepfather with the butcher knife—already severely chipped and scored after Kevin’s attack on Johnathon—stabbing at his heart. As it happened, Ralston hadn’t taken his winter coat off yet, and the knife got caught up in it, barely penetrating it to his skin, leaving a small but nasty scratch.
    But Ralston didn’t know that. The shock of the attack and the pain of the impact convinced him that the knife had entered his chest, endangering his life. Aware Kevin wouldn’t turn back now that the stakes were life or death, Ralston leapt on his stepson, knocking the knife loose.
    Then he bolted for the back door. Kevin grabbed him from behind and wrestled him to the floor. Convinced his chest had been opened up, Ralston thought he’d be no match for Kevin, who was enraged and beating him up while still struggling to get closer to the knife. Confused, Ralston looked up at Kevin.
    “You’re trying to kill me?” he asked.
    Kevin, his face red from the struggle, looked him in the eye. “Yes,” he said, “ . . . yes, that’s what I want to do.”
    At that point, Ralston realized he’d die if he didn’t get away. He summoned all of his strength and managed to wrestle