Thanks for the boxing idea. Now I have a black eye to wear to school tomorrow.

Dear Dad,

Thanks for the boxing idea. Now I have a black eye to wear to school tomorrow.

I did find one and one-half old pairs of boxing gloves. The half-pair is only a left glove. Rhett showed me where they were, down in the basement, stuck up in the rafters by an ancient coconut that was shipped from Hawaii. Jeez, Dad, these must be the oldest boxing gloves in Washington State. The liners are all torn up inside, so it feels like I’m sticking my hands into bags of stuffing. It takes about five minutes to get my thumbs in the thumbholes. Rhett found the heavy bag, too. It looks homemade—like a big army duffel bag stuffed full of clothes and sand or something.

We used some rope and hung it up back by the washing machine and took turns pummeling it. I was trying to get in the stance you described to me, but Rhett kept getting impatient, waiting for his turn and yelling at me to hurry up, so I’m not sure I did it right.

Then Rhett said he’d box me one handed. I put on the full pair of gloves and he put on the extra left and kept his other hand behind his back. I was poking at him with my left, jabbing like you said. And it worked, kind of. I was jabbing at his stomach and he kept bringing his one hand down to block it. So one time when he brought his hand down, I brought my right around and hit him pretty hard in the side of the head.

He was surprised all right. He stared at me and his eyes watered a bit, then pow, his ungloved right hand came out of nowhere and caught me right in the eye. I fell down and Rhett said it served me right and how did it feel and great, now he was going to get in trouble from Mom for giving me a black eye.

Boy, did he ever give me one, too. It swelled almost all the way shut by the time Mom came home. Rhett said I should put a raw steak on it, but there was no way I was going to listen to him after what he did to me so I watched TV with my one good eye while my other one was covered in a bag of frozen peas.

When Mom came home, she asked where we got the idea to box. I lied and said I didn’t know, so you owe me one for covering for you.

I really don’t want to go to school with a black eye.

Your son,

Trevor