by Freida Marie Crump
Greetin’s from the Ridge.
I got in the first punch but as far as I can recall, it was my last.
Burt barely got his footing before Mrs. Waters’ quick hands picked us both up from the dirt and slammed us down onto the playground curb.
Burt and I had been in a vicious fourth-grade eye-lock all mornin’ and when 10 o’clock recess came around we