My arm sprang alive. The wrench thudded against his skull. A half cry spilled from his lips. Then his head fell forward on his chest.
"Hit him again," Diane urged.
"But—"
"Do as I say."
I hit him again, hard.
It was done. I settled back. The wrench was still in my hand. I looked at it, then let it fall.
"Are you all right?" Diane asked.
"Yes," I said. "Why shouldn't I be?"
"You're not going to be sick, are you?"
"No! You think I'm a kid?"