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TRUE GRIT

When Mom and Kell got back from their night out, Kell grabbed me “playfully” around the neck and began ruffling my hair.

I hate having my hair ruffled by someone I like. Having it done by a creep like Kell Weathers almost made me hurl.

“Ow!” I yelled, rubbing my scalp.

Mom sighed. “Kell’s just being nice, Rafe.”

“Don’t blame the little feller, Jules,” Kell said. “The kid just needs some grit.”

“Oh, you want grit?” I yelled. “I’ll give you grit!”

I leaped across the room, grabbed Kell around the neck, and threw him at the wall.

“Don’t hurt me!” Kell squealed as he lay sprawled on the floor.

“Rafe, stop!” Mom yelled. “He’s only a geologist!”

“Too late!” I shouted. “Rafe the Chafe takes no prisoners!”

I leaped from the top rope of the ring and slammed into Kell, hard. Wrapping my sandpapery arms around his head, I gave him the worst friction burn ever experienced on three continents. A grown man in the audience burst into tears. Sandpapering a man’s head is just nasty, but I had been pushed to the limit, and I ruffled his hair even harder.

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“Oh, the humanity!” the commentator wailed. “Won’t the referee stop this madness? No one can take this kind of punishment! The Geologist won’t have a head left if this goes on much longer!”

He was right. Within a minute, all that remained of Kell’s head was a pile of wood shavings.

I got to my feet and the referee lifted my arm in the air.

“And the winner is… Rafe! Rafe. Rafe. RAFE?

I opened my eyes. Kell, his head far too intact for my liking, was leaning over me, my mom looking over his shoulder.

“You must have drifted off there for a minute, mate,” Kell said. Then, with his back to my mom, he mouthed, “Wimp.”

Yup. Kell Weathers was definitely at the top of the People Rafe Khatchadorian Hates List.

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