ABSTRACT
Artie Graham had probably thought all day long about how he would kick Sterne’s ass. I hate Sterne. Artie kept watching the clock, anticipating the bell for the beginning and ending of each class. I also hate bells. They remind me of being forced to go to church each Sunday when I was a little boy. I hated church then, as much as I hate Sterne now. Several times during study hall Artie flicked out a left jab at the imaginary Sterne’s face the same way he had seen Muhammad Ali do to an opponent time and again. Artie looked around the room to make certain that no one had seen him. No one else had, and I pretended to read from my World History book as he followed his jab with a perfect right cross.
