I still don't know why I did what I did to Michael. I've thought it over every way I can,

turning the memory upside down and inside out until it felt like I was going insane.

At the time, a part of me thought it was just... until it felt like I was going insane.

At the time, a part of me thought it was just a bit of fun.

I meant him no harm.

I was 19 and hanging around outside a school waiting for my girlfriend to get out

when I spotted the guy in the parking lot.

He must have been there to pick up his younger sister.

Like a lot of us, he wasn't able to make it to university or even just get a job in the

city, so he was stuck at home like the rest of us.

But growing up, he'd been a real pain in the ass, a special kind of dupe born out of insecurity

and petty jealousy. He hated everyone. He hated the smart

kids most of all, but that didn't stop him from saving some choice words for the rest of us.

All of us.

All of us kids were just trying to have a good time, smoke a little dope, get a little

drunk, feel each other up.

Michael would rock up to our usual haunts with the police in tow and then act high and mighty about it the next day.

He had thrived in a controlled school yard environment, but on that day, looking at him, sat in

his car, it dawned on me, We weren't in a school yard anymore.

It was the real world. And in the real world, there are consequences for your actions.

Acting like an asshole, taking people off.

Well, it's liable to get you a slap around the head.

...