He’s punching; I’m blocking. No point saying, So I can beat the crap out of Floyd. “I handled Snyder. But if his three buddies had been there, I’d have been toast.”

“It’ll be a while before you can take on four guys bigger than you,” he says dryly. “Is that the only reason?”

I stare out the window. “The last two or three weeks—it’s like I can do something that makes a difference. Like I feel kind of okay about myself. Every now and then.”

“Can you tell me why, Brick?”

My arms are hanging at my sides. “I dunno—it’s so freaking complicated. It’s like my body’s mine. What kind of sense does that make?”

If responsibility is the heaviest word in the dictionary, hope is the scariest.

“Let’s say you come back to the dojo. We’ll meet three times a week until mid-September. Then I’ll expect you to enroll in the beginners’ class, which will have kids younger than you as well as adults. There’s a charge for lessons, and you’ll have to order a gi.”

I’ll pay for it with the lawn money. “Okay.”

He gulps more coffee. “Because you’ll know more than the others in the class, I’ll expect you to help out. The test for white belt is three months after enrolment, so it’s a real commitment. You’d better think about it.”

“I don’t need to.”

“Self-defense only.”

“I know.” With Floyd, it’s a non-issue. Same for Snyder and his crew.

He pulls a calendar out of a drawer and we decide on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday every week. But when he starts asking questions about running and weights, I interrupt. “It’s late. I gotta go home. Thanks a lot for taking me back, Docker.”

“Want me to drive you?”

“No, that’s okay.”

I hurry out the door and jog home fast. I’ll run tomorrow, first thing. Get new weights at the dojo.

Lights are on upstairs, but the downstairs is dark and the door’s locked. I turn the key, creep inside, and cross the kitchen. The stairs creak. Floyd comes out of his bedroom, closing the door behind him. He’s wearing a white tank top and boxers. Flab has started to settle around his waist. First time I’ve noticed.

“Where have you been?” he says.

You ever seen the eyes on a dead fish?

“I was out for a walk. Needed to think about some stuff.”

“Were you with a girl?”

“I wish.” I try a man-to-man grin. Abandon it when he doesn’t respond. Heart going whomp-whomp-whomp.

“What sort of stuff?”

“School stuff. We have some options next year, so I’m trying to decide whether to take geography or physics. For physics I’d need another math course. That kind of thing.”