Joe

Jake did the math. A head shot on school property meant suspension. But that goddamn bully in his rusty black Camero. That stupid cigarette hanging from his mouth. He was begging for it. Jake cupped a perfect sphere of hate from sloppy snow. He knew he had the arm. Many winters with older brothers had prepared him for this day. Then, in an instant, it was done. Two hearts raced. One with fear, the other with rage.