The challenge came on a snowy Thursday morning. Duel at noon.
I accepted.
We stood in the school parking lot surrounded by a pack of chanting pre-teens. I let the 7th grader throw first. His snowball bounced weakly off my left arm.
Mine landed square between his startled eyes. The crowd issued a collective groan.
I walked over. The kid lay sprawled out on the wet asphalt.
“Let that be a lesson,” I boasted to the now silent crowd.
I turned and sauntered back to my office, brushing the snow from my corduroy blazer.
Don’t fuck with the English teacher.
