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kicking Goatee.
     
    “Scott, that’s enough.”
     
    I later learned that Goatee had stayed on his feet and was about to deal me a double-fisted sandwich when Scott surprised him with a kick to the stomach. I had no idea Scott was a fighter.
     
    “Let’s get out of here,” I said, my stomach completely sick, my nerves feeling like I’d been tased.
     
    Tabby ran for our Buick. After scooping up our alcohol, I followed, got in, started it up, and drove to the exit with Scott and Allison close behind. As I pulled out, I looked over my shoulder and saw Tear Drop pointing his arm at me. His hand was empty, but he was holding it in a mock interpretation of a gun. He dropped his thumb and lifted his finger as if his gun had gone off.
     
    The message was clear: you’re dead .
     

     
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