"Are you ready to do it? Let's do it!" Carl shouted into Anthony's ear.

Anthony stood up and dusted himself off. He'd been crouching in the dirt for the past twenty or so minutes, trying not to think about anything. To go zen, or whatever. Anthony didn't really understand the whole meditation thing, but he knew that he didn't want to think about what he was about to do. It wasn't easy, with Carl jabbering along the entire time with what he thought was a helpful pep talk.

Carl had stolen some tape from the shop room to wrap Anthony's hands, just like kickboxers did in the movies. Anthony looked down as he clenched his fists, watching the tiny muscles in his forearms tugging and stretching. He wished he had more of those muscles. The kid he was matched up against had plenty. Tall, rangy, and lean, Curtis was an imposing figure. Especially when compared to Anthony's runty-puppy physique.

With Carl's prodding, Anthony stumbled slowly over to the grass clearing behind the cafeteria dumpsters. The fight had been scheduled for hours now, so a decent crowd his sugared-up classmates had gathered to watch. Anthony even saw the creepy janitor, old Mr. Cuzzi, leering from behind the ring of kids.

As Anthony approached the ring, Curtis began pacing around, hopping, shaking his head, punching the air.

"He's just trying to intimidate you," Carl whispered into Anthony's ear.

"No shit," thought Anthony, too intimidated to say it out loud.

The kids all "oooh"ed as he stepped past them into the ring. Most playground fights ended with a kid chickening out. They were all happy to see one get even this far.

"Just get the first punch," Carl whispered. "If you hit him first, you actually might win."

Anthony wasn't thrilled to hear the words 'actually might' in there. But he knew the odds better than anyone. And he knew Carl was right, he had to strike first.

Curtis was still pacing, shadowboxing, working the crowd. Anthony screamed and ran at him, kicking at his shins and swinging wildly with his fists. His eyes were closed in terror and tears were streaming down his face, but he felt his blows connect.

When he opened his eyes, Curtis was still standing. His normally confident look was replaced by shock, confusion. His lip was bleeding. Anthony's heart was beating out of his chest. He could hear Carl somewhere, yelling. Old Mr. Cuzzi was yelling too. Curtis' jaw clenched and his fists balled. Anthony closed his eyes again. Curtis swung once, twice. Again. It was all over.

Final Score: Twins 6 - Yankees 7

New Guy's Special Friends of the Day: Ryan Doumit, Alex Burnett(!)

New Guy's Not-So-Special Friends of the Day: Artery Sleestak, Alchemy Swizzlestick