It all happened faster than Charlie could take it in. The big man stepped forward. Tom tried to hit him again, but this time the Irishman got to him first. Charlie saw him raise his fist, and then Tom was flying backwards. He hit the floor hard and just lay there, staring up at the ceiling as if maybe he was dead. A couple of people crowded around him, looking down at him and waiting for him to move.

Charlie went over to his friend. Tom’s eyes were open, and there was blood coming out of his nose, but he was stunned. Then all of a sudden it was like the breath came back to him. He took a big gulp of air, sat up straight as a board, and said, “Jesus Christ! Where’s that damn son-of-a-bitch?”

He tried to stand up, but Charlie stopped him. Tom beat against him with his fists, hollering about how he was going to kill the Mick, but the man had already forgotten about him. Before Tom could get himself killed, Charlie wrestled him out the door and into the street.

“Why’d you do that?” Tom said. “Why didn’t you let me at him?”

Charlie looked at him. He looked wounded, both in body and spirit. Charlie knew that Tom believed he could take the Irishman. He believed it with all of his heart. And that made Charlie want to keep him out of the fight even more. He didn’t want to see him learn he couldn’t.

“Come on,” he said. “You showed him well enough.”

He started walking. After a moment, Tom came too. He walked quietly, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his overalls. After a few minutes he started laughing.

“I guess I did at that,” he said. “I guess I did show him. How about that?”

Charlie didn’t look at him. “Sure,” he said. “How about that?”

CHAPTER 11

Faced with the long walk home, Caddie decided instead to visit Nick at the pizza parlor, her plan to leave him hanging for a day or two outweighed by her aversion to getting any hotter and sweatier. Besides, she reasoned, it would give her a chance to rest before the final push back to the house.

Still, she was overheated when she reached Johnny’s. Her hair felt frizzy instead of curly, although a quick glance in a store window reassured her that she still looked presentable. Besides, guys rarely noticed the things that to girls were a matter of social life and death. Nick, she knew, would be thrilled just to see her.

She entered the restaurant and paused, letting her eyes adjust to the change in light. When she removed her sunglasses, she saw that Nick was at the counter talking to a customer, a girl about her own age. Caddie walked up to them.

“Hey, Nick,” she said.

Nick glanced up, and Caddie saw an unexpected expression on his face, a momentary lack of emotion, as if he was trying to place where he had seen her. Then he smiled. “Caddie. Hey.”