It's hard to do and I am slow to raise my head to look. He says nothing, but I sense his impatience. I look at his face. His eyes burn into mine, he...means what he says. He waits, he knows I will obey. I turn my head so that I have to watch what he's doing in the mirror. I watch his arm come down, fast, and realize he is really swinging really hard. And in that microsecond before I feel it, I am really scared. I know how much it's going to hurt. When it hits the sensation vibrates through. "Why?" I asked blandly. "He started it."Okay, it wasn't a terribly adult statement. In retrospect, I soundedlike a spoiled five year old. But from my point of view, I had doneabsolutely nothing to deserve the treatment Jeff had given me. Ourparents had always instilled in us the urge to do our best, whether itwas about scholastics, sports, or in any other facet of life. To my wayof thinking, both of us had done just that. I hadn't bested Jeff just towatch him turn green with envy; I had done it. More

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