Like a lot of really bad ideas, it seemed like a good idea at the time. We were 14 and he had been annoying me. For months.
There was just something about him – the relentless questions and fantastical speculation, the obsession with science fiction, the otherness. In retrospect I suspect he was simply making me anxious about my own deficiencies. But whatever the reason, right there in Class Music, as we waited for the teacher to arrive, he felt like a legitimate target.
It was too easy. As he sat down I pulled his chair away from under him. He landed on his backside, hard.
There was a moment of stillness as he felt the shock and shame, and then he was up, his hand on my throat, shoving me back towards the wall. I laughed, amazed that I was about to be killed by a seething child in…
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