Alice couldn't stop shivering despite the warmth of the Louisiana evening. She still rode the high of her victory over the bullies she despised, but the vision of her brother, crumpled and bleeding, haunted her far more than it should have.
He hated her. She shouldn't care if she hurt him or not. But he was her brother.
The street was quiet, the mass exodus of unhappy fans, families and students moving off while the opposing team piled into their buses, rowdy in their victory. Alice distinctly felt the opposing pressures, as though the heightened emotions on both sides hung on a scale of balance she was forced to carry.
Peter nattered on to her, and she responded, though much in the way she often did with BettyÑthrough nods and grunting answers, just enough to keep him satisfied.