"Get up and fight, if a fight is what you want!" screamed my childhood friend, Amos John, his fists clenched and face red with anger.
"Ouch, Amos that really hurt," I said, rubbing my cheek and attempting to pull myself to my feet. I surveyed the group as I did this. Levi, Bart, Emory... all stood behind Amos. I spent many school days and some fun nights with these faces, which now looked down on me with a mixture of curiosity and disgust.