If he connected, I would be hurt, bad. The only thing was, he forgot that I had seen him fight before. I knew he was in love with that move. So, I did...the unexpected. I moved into the punch, intending to let it hit me. I knew it wouldn't. He never intended the punch to land; it was just a diversion. But what my action did was cause his kick to miss badly, leaving him in a very awkward, vulnerable position. In quick succession, while he was off balance, I punched him in the kidney, kicked him in. The wig he wore pinned to his head was aclassically rich, dark auburn, most unlike his own mousey brownunderneath it. It featured a parting above his left eye, and he wore itloose and swept to his right, cascading over his right shoulder. Danglysilver earrings hung from each lobe, the light bouncing off the diamondshanging at the tip.The eighteen-year-old's face was beautifully made up, with archedeyebrows, full red lips and deep shading above his eyes. He smiled at hisreflection; he'd learned. More

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