She was a kid. Like me. She put her hands on his forearm and pushed. I was stunned quiet. I was stunned stupid. She wasn’t wearing matching socks and her hair was a giant halo of curls. She had a shiny purse with a stuffed dog sticking out of it and a fistful of coupons. There was a spiral pad with a cat doodled on it popping out of a pocket. Dad took one hand off of me and lifted it. He was going to backhand this little girl. I put my hand up to block him. I saw my death in his eyes then.
