I got out of the car. Win moved a little closer to the three buddies.

Coach Bobby said, "I'm so gonna kick your ass."

I shrugged. "Take your best shot."

"Too many people around. There's a clearing in the woods right behind that field," he said, pointing the way. "No one will bother us there."

Win asked, "How, pray tell, do you know about this clearing?"

"I went to high school here. Kicked a lot of ass back there." He actually puffed out his chest as he added: "I was also captain of the football team."

"Wow," Win said in a perfect monotone. "Can I wear your varsity jacket to the prom?"

Coach Bobby pointed a beefy finger in Win's direction. "You'll be using it to soak up blood, you don't shut up."

Win tried very hard not to look overly giddy.

I thought about my promise to Ali. "We're two mature adults," I said. Each word felt like I was spitting out broken glass. "We should be above resorting to fisticuffs, don't you think?"

I looked past him toward Win. Win was frowning. "Did you really use the term 'fisticuffs'?"

Coach Bobby moved into my personal space. "You chicken?"

Again with the chicken.

But I was the bigger man-and the bigger man's the one who walks away. Sure, right.

"Yes," I said, "I'm chicken. Happy?"

"You hear that guys? He's chicken."

I winced but stayed strong. Or weak, depending on how you want to look at it. Yep, the bigger man. That was me.

I don't think I have ever seen Win look so crestfallen.

"Do you mind moving your car now so I can go?" I asked.

"Okay," Coach Bobby said, "but I warned you."

"Warned me about what?"

He was back in my personal space. "You don't want to fight, fine. But then it's hunting season on your boy out there."

I felt a rush of blood in my ears.

"What are you talking about?"

"The spastic kid who shot in the wrong basket? The rest of the season he's a target. We have a chance at a cheap shot, we take it. We see an opportunity to get in his head, we go for it."