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“That’s right.”
I led Morgan up the ramp and went over to the fifth grader. Morgan stayed a few feet behind me.
He was a big kid flipping a quarter in the air. He was all alone, leaning against the wall, watching kids playing paddle ball.
“Excuse me,” I said loud enough for the kid to hear me.
He glared down at me. I gestured behind me toward Morgan.
“You shoved my brother and knocked his snack to the ground.”
“So?”
“So, you owe him a popsicle.”
“I don’t owe him anything.”
The kid pushed himself away from the wall and walked toward me. He lunged at me and smacked his fist against his hand, trying to scare me. He didn’t scare me, and I didn’t move.
“Get out of my way, dweeb,” he said. He threw his shoulder into mine as he tried to walk around me. It wasn’t hard enough to move me from where I stood. “Punk. Are you deaf or have a death wish?” he yelled and shoved me.
I stumbled backward a step, regained balance, and walked toward him.
“You have a quarter. The right thing to do would be to get him a popsicle to replace—”
Suddenly I was staring at the school… sideways. He knocked me down. I moved my jaw around and tasted blood. I heard Morgan calling my name as I pushed myself off the ground. I spit on the concrete and looked at the kid just in time to see him lunge for me again. I immediately jumped into my karate defense stance and blocked his punches.
“Hollis!” Morgan yelled.
All around us were shouts of a fifth grader beating up a second grader. I don’t think so. The kid wrapped his hand around the back of my head, and when he pulled his arm back, I reacted much quicker than he could. I focused just like in karate class. I straightened my arm out, and when he brought his fist forward, I grabbed his arm and pulled him closer. He was off balance, so I wrapped my foot around his, tripping him and taking him to the ground. I put my knee in his gut and wrapped my hand around the front of his throat.
I could feel his Adam’s apple move against the palm of my hand as he cried. I wasn’t squeezing but held him still.
“Hollis Hawkins took down Simon!” a boy called out.
“The second grader pinned Simon!”
“Finally, someone gave Simon a taste of his own medicine,” a girl said.
I only looked up when I heard a whistle.
“Hollis,” Morgan hissed.
I didn’t take my eye off Simon until I knew the monitor was here.
“What is going on here?” the woman asked.
Tons of kids—older kids and Simon’s classmates—all started telling her how Simon threw the first punch and that I was defending myself. I stood up and looked at the monitor. Just behind her another playground monitor hurried over.
“He shoved my little brother and knocked the popsicle out of his mouth.” I turned and gestured at Morgan. “Morgan earned a free snack ticket for winning the spelling bee,” I explained and then gestured toward Simon. “He shoved him and made Morgan’s lip bleed.”
“Sweetheart, you’re the one with a bloody mouth,” the monitor said.
“His tooth!” Morgan raced over and held his palm open. “Simon knocked Hollis’ loose tooth out. That’s why he’s bleeding,” Morgan offered up.
I ran my tongue over the spot where my loose tooth had been. I had been trying to lose this one for a few weeks.
“Let’s go to the principal’s office,” the monitor said as she gestured to the ramp.
