He was big, but fat, sort of blubbery. He struck me between the shoulder blades with the heels of both hands, “Beat it, kid. I wanna talk to my litt...e girlfriend.”I guess I had known it was coming the second Woodrow grabbed his sister’s hand. My grandfather, Clive Gilmore, had told me, “Don’t get in fights. You’re bigger and stronger and quicker than most other kids. But if you can’t back down, hit ‘em first and hit ‘em hard.”I was carrying three books with an old leather belt wrapped around. Just about--The hand on my shoulder scared me half to death. With a shriek, I whirled around, pulling the mixer from the bowl and splattering whipped cream and strawberries on everything within five feet."My God, you scared me to death!" I berated you as I looked around in dismay at the mess on the counter, the wall, you, me.You grinned. "I called to you when I walked in, but I guess you didn't hear me." I certainly didn't. Look at this mess. I don't have time for this!" I slammed the mixer on. More

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