Part 2

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Ace told me I'd have to make Chris pay. For that whole deal with the dead kid. The Cobras all expect me to give him a licking—and a good one at that. I can't not do it. Sure, I've beat him up before, but it was never as bad as it'll have to be this time. If I don't do it right Ace'll screw him up even worse than Pa does—he might even kill him, he's that mad. So I'm really doing Chris a favor, right?

That's what I tell myself, anyways, as I wait for Chris after school. He comes around the corner and I jump him. I can't watch what I'm doing. I feel my fists hit his face, his nose, but I keep telling myself it's for his own good. I tell Chris that, too; I try to make him understand. He's fighting back, the feisty kid. Thank goodness. It's hard enough watching him just stand there when Pa licks him, I know I couldn't have carried through if he decided to take my pummeling as stoically. We're squirming in the dust, rolling over each other and both throwing punches wherever we can when Chris tries to get up. I feel the crack before I hear it. His arm is pinned under me and I feel it twist unnaturally. I'll never forget that moment. Chris's scream rips into me, slashing at my insides, and instantly I hate myself. I get up and run. I can taste the salty tears falling down my cheeks. He's never screamed like that before, in all his fourteen years. Not when Ace pulled a knife on him when he was twelve, not when Pa broke his wrist and his nose after he got suspended from school for stealing that milk money, not even that time Pa broke a beer bottle over his head and Ma found glass shards in the back of his neck for the next week.

I'm sitting now, crouched against the brick wall of an alleyway, trying to hold in the sobs that wrench at my chest. I'm still close enough to hear Chris's screams fade into quiet sobs. I can see him curled up in the street, cradling the broken arm. He's never stayed down so long. It's all my fault. I want to go to him. I want to pick him up and cradle him and tell him that I never wanted to hurt him, but that's not how things work between Chris and me. If he hated me before, he must despise me now. What kind of big brother am I? I'm the one who's supposed to keep him safe, but instead I'm sitting here watching my kid brother pull himself up and stagger painfully down the street.

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