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was your dad I’d make sure you didn’t talk shit, you can believe that.”
    “Oh, you’re really scaring me. Where’s my mirror?”
    “You look disgusting. Now you don’t need that stupid mirror.”
    “Asshole!” She looks up from her purse and punches his shoulder.
    He laughs. “You hit like a little princess. Go ahead and hit me again, princess.”
    He grabs her by her arm and yanks her, and she gasps.
    “That hurts.”
    “Don’t hit me unless you want to get hit back. Got it?” he says.
    “Let go of me.”
    I know I should just keep my mouth shut, but I’m an idiot. I try to make a joke to break up the domestic abuse. “Personally I’m a fan of nonviolence,” I chirp, and both of them turn to stare at me. “In fact, I think it was Martin Luther King that said an eye for an eye leaves everyone blind. He was a smart guy, even though he did end up getting shot and all.” I’m rambling now, as Nate lets go of his girlfriend and glares at me with an expression that lets me know I’m in some trouble. I might as well be a talking turd, that’s what his expression tells me.
    “Who the fuck are you?” he says.
    “I’m Tim. How’s it going—“
    “What’s your last name? Falleasy?”
    Confused, I stutter a little as he walks toward me. “No, it’s Richardson.”
    “I think it’s Falleasy. As in, when I punch you in the face, you’ll fall easy.”
    I can’t believe this is happening. It’s like a nightmare, only usually in nightmares I at least try and run away. “You’re right, I do fall easy,” I tell him. “So you don’t even have to hit me.”
    “But hitting you is going to be fun. Maybe you’ll learn to keep your mouth shut next time.”
    “I’ll keep my mouth shut. Give me a chance and I’ll prove it.”
    “It’ll be easier to keep it closed without your teeth.” He starts moving towards me even faster as I back-peddle.
    I hold up my hands, the international sign language of wimps. Go to any country, anywhere in the world and talk trash to a wimp, they’ll hold up their hands just like that.
    “He’s got a bratty face,” Amanda says. “You should punch him in the mouth.”
    “Thanks for that,” I tell her. Man, she really knows how to show her appreciation for me sticking my neck out on her behalf.
    I turn around and start walking away, hoping that maybe I can just teleport out of the situation. If I can’t see it, it’s not really happening.
    “Did I tell you to leave?” Nate says and suddenly I feel him slap me in the back of the head.
    The slap stings, but more than that, it causes me to panic. I don’t want to get my face broken. Nate grabs the back of my shirt and I suddenly have a vivid flash of me in the hospital on a ventilator in the ICU. I’ll be one of those cautionary tales kids tell each other before starting high school.
    Don’t ever mouth off to Nate Diaz or you’ll end up like that Richardson kid who’s a vegetable now, drinking his meals out of a straw in Middlebury Hospital.
    But just as Nate’s about to send me to the ER, someone rounds the corner and sees us. “Let go of him, Diaz,” he says immediately. The voice has all the authority and confidence of a teacher, an adult. Only it isn’t an adult.
    Nate lets go of me and I quickly move away from him.
    Jay Stevens is standing there in his varsity football jacket and looking pissed off—like some kind of teenage superhero, showing up just when I need him.
    Which is ironic, considering he pretty much left me in the dust a few years ago—
    just stopped hanging out with me, making me feel like a total friendless loser.
    Jay Stevens was my best friend up until fifth grade. But in fifth grade he started avoiding me, and after that year we almost never spent time together anymore. I have my suspicions as to why Jay didn’t want me around, but whatever the case, lately he’s been acting like we’re buddies again.
    Sometimes he makes me wish I never knew him, but right now I couldn’t be