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at this,” he said. “If women take it.”
    Abby looked down and read where he pointed.
    “Oh wow,” she said. “Acne, facial hair ...”
    “Sounds great, doesn’t it?” Terry said.
    “Can’t wait to try it,” Abby said.
    “All of this stuff is written about jocks,” Terry said. “Doesn’t talk about ordinary kids like Jason.”
    “Maybe because ordinary kids like Jason don’t take steroids,” Abby said.
    “Nothing here makes me think he did,” Terry said.
    “No,” Abby said. “Sounds more like Kip Carter All-American to me.”
    “Yeah,” Terry said. “Maybe you should date him.”
    “Me?” Abby said.
    Terry gave her a straight-faced serious look.
    “Give you a chance to find out if anything’s shrinking,” he said.
    “Oh ugh!” Abby said.
    And they both began to giggle.

CHAPTER 21
    G eorge was wrapping Terry’s hands.
    “Little swollen,” George said.
    “I had a fight.”
    “How’d you do?” George said.
    “I broke the guy’s nose,” Terry said.
    “So you won?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Better than losing,” George said. “Why’d you fight?”
    “Other guy started it,” Terry said.
    “How?”
    “Was gonna beat me up,” Terry said.
    “Front of other people?”
    “Yes.”
    “You know why?”
    “I think it’s about that kid, Jason, who died a while ago?” “The one you been wondering about,” George said.
    “Yeah.”
    “Why somebody want to beat you up ‘bout that?” George said.
    “I don’t know.”
    “You looking into it?” George said.
    “Yes.”
    “Maybe they want you to stop,” George said.
    Terry shrugged. George looked at him for a moment. He looked like he wanted to say something. But he didn’t.
    “What?” Terry said.
    George shook his head and finished wrapping Terry’s hands.
    “You gonna tell me mind my own business?” Terry said. “‘Cause I’m a kid, and I don’t know what I’m doing?”
    “Nope.”
    “You were gonna say something,” Terry said. “What?”
    George slid the gloves onto Terry’s hands and cinched the Velcro closers shut.
    “I was gonna tell you to be careful,” George said.
    “I can take care of myself,” Terry said.
    “Mostly,” George said. “Nobody can do it always.”
    “So I just quit and go hide?”
    “Nope.”
    “So,” Terry said. “What?”
    “So, nothing, that’s why I didn’t say it.”
    They looked at each other.
    “I don’t get it,” Terry said.
    George nodded.
    “Kid mattered to you,” George said.
    “I felt sorry for him,” Terry said. “Got no father. Mother’s a drunk. Everybody thinks he’s a fag.”
    “You?” George said.
    “Yeah, I guess he was.”
    “You don’t care.”
    “No,” Terry said. “Got nothing to do with me.”
    “You not gay,” George said.
    “No,” Terry said. “You care?”
    “No,” George said. “I don’t care. But that little girl might be awful disappointed.”
    Terry smiled.
    “I hope so,” he said.
    “You doing what you think is the right thing to do,” George said. “Maybe be some risk. Smart to be careful. Don’t want to hide all your life. If you gonna face up to it, might as well start now.”
    “You saying I should go ahead?”
    “Yep.”
    Terry didn’t know what to say.
    “So this guy comes at you,” George said, “swinging, and you hold him off with your jab.”
    “Yeah.”
    “And he tries a big John Wayne roundhouse punch,” George said.
    “Yeah.”
    “And you block it with your left?”
    “And hit him with my right, straight on.”
    “Broke his nose.”
    “Yes.”
    George smiled.
    “Fight over,” he said.
    “Uh-huh.”
    George smiled more.
    “Just remember,” he said. “You fight somebody knows a little something, won’t be so easy.”
    “Thanks, George,” Terry said.
    “For what? Teaching you left block, right punch?”
    “Including that,” Terry said.
    George picked up the big round punching mitts.
    “Come on,” he said. “You gonna be street fighting, may have to teach you some other