What if he really hurt someone?

Once that gets in his head he’s done.

The sad part being, he’s never gonna land a good punch. He hits like a girl.

Such a dildo.

And then he gets knocked around and put on the ground and the guys are left to finish things up. And they do. They could give a shit if they hurt the pricks they’re fighting. Jesus Christ, it’s a fight, man, that’s the point.

The guys don’t really fuck with him about it. After all, he’s up for the fight. And it’s kind of cool when he goes berserker and leads the way screaming gibberish. Fuckfuckkillshitbreakyouyoufuckingfuckingdildobreath!

Far as they’re concerned, he never lasts because he can’t fight worth shit. How much can you expect from him? He’s a kid.

So when he rounds the corner, it’s pretty much the same old story. He sees himself throwing shards in Timo’s face, and then sees himself trying helplessly to stop a torrent of blood pumping from a severed artery in the asshole’s neck.

He sees an entire funeral and grieving family.

He sees the revenge Timo’s older brothers have taken, not on him but on George.

His brother lacerated by Ramon’s infamous hacksaw.

And when he sees Timo just up the street, on his bike, bunny-hopping it on and off the curb with an ease he could never equal, he opens his hands and lets the rocks spill out and walks to the middle of the street.

– That’s my bike.

Timo hears him, looks up, and glides over. He stands up on the pedals and swoops around Andy, circling him once, twice. Andy doesn’t move, doesn’t turn his face, just stands.

– That’s my bike. You stole it.

Timo gives the pedals a couple pumps, just enough to keep the bike cruising in slow circles.

– This bike? This is your bike? This shitty bike?