I’ve only had one physical altercation when I was in school. In 6th grade I slapped a boy while standing in the back of a classroom on our 1:20 break. That boy, my foe, is now my husband. Gary Wayne Thomas was my mortal enemy; he was a football player on the academic team. “Smart jock” was suppose to be my gig and this jerk was trying to steal my thunder. To make matters worse, he crushed on my best friend. So naturally, I hated him (6th grade girl logic, duh). I nicknamed him “Roadkill” and spat insults at him whenever I had the opportunity; he stole that routine from me too. One day his insults went a little too far: something about me doing something with a dog that, honestly, my middle school mind really didn’t even know the definition of. But, I knew enough to know this jerk needed to be put in his place, so I smacked him across the face and walked out of that classroom with my head high and secretly praying I wouldn’t get in trouble.