He saw a fight that didn’t involve him and booked it up the block because the dudes fighting at the intersection were none of his concern. Whatever they were beefing about wasn’t any of his business. He and his buddy just wanted to catch a little McDonald’s on a Friday after school. That could certainly wait until these knuckleheads were finished.
So he and his buddy ran.
Kevin Miller ran as fast as his 13-year old body would carry him down the block, away from trouble. The money his mother gave him would have to wait. The few extra dollars he got for doing his chores and getting good grades would have to spend a few more minutes burning a hole in his pocket.
Sure, it was Friday. But Friday’s fun would have to wait until the knuckleheads were finished scrappin.’ So he did the right thing. He ran.
But one of the knuckleheads, fighting at an intersection over something almost certainly worthless, didn’t care about the money burning a hole in Kevin’s pocket; didn’t care about the few extra bucks his mother gave him that morning for being the kind of kid that does the right thing. See, that knucklehead decided he had to prove his point at that intersection; that he had to be right.
But he missed. He missed the worthless point he felt so eager to make. He missed the point that his right was wrong.
He missed. And Kevin fell. His mother’s money still in his pocket.