Q U I D P R O Q U O
43
“Or even ten. Lord liftin’! You’re some puny for
grade eight! I keep telling your mother she should
feed you better.”
I wish your mother hadn’t fed you at all
.
“Hey, what’s that look for? Gee, didn’t mean to
offend you or nothin.’ I bet all the girls think you’re
pretty cute actually. Girls love the little guys. You’re
like bunnies or kittens or something to them. Must
bring out their maternal instincts, I guess.”
Yeah, and you bring out my killer instinct.
“Not much of a talker, are you?…
“Maybe you’re more the physical type…
“Wanna arm-wrestle then?”
No, I don’t want to arm-wrestle. Because that would
mean I’d have to touch you, and call me a wuss, but
slimy reptiles have always kind of given me the creeps—
no offense.
“C’mon! You’re not scared, are ya?”
Yeah right. Me? Scared of a fingerless stump? I don’t
think so. Grossed out? Yes. Sick of seeing it waving around
in my face? Absolutely. But scared? Think again. I’ll even
prove it
.
“Sure,” I finally said. “I’ll arm-wrestle you.”
Byron took off that cheesy jacket he always
wore, and I wished I’d just kept my big mouth shut.
He actually looked pretty strong. One of those
