General
In a quick movement, he filled my viewfinder completely. Before I could figure out what had happened, he had grabbed me by the shoulders. He pulled a ballpoint pen from his pocket and stuck the sharp end of it against my throat.
It hurt. Bad. I wondered if I was bleeding. If he pushed any harder, the pen could burst through my windpipe.
He continued, still sounding oddly casual, "Like I said. When I take this kid's camera and walk out of here with the videocassette, there is definitely nothing you can prove."
"The teachers can't do nothing to us," Lisa told him, crossing her arms. The paintball wars aren't on school property.
"But—," Micky tried. It was like trying to stop a hurricane.
"Do you think I care what the teachers think?" Lisa asked. "They think we band together because no one else likes us. And we're proud to agree with them, aren't we?"
Micky shrugged. When people called us losers, it just made our group stronger.
"It's the Medford gang I care about," Lisa continued. "The Sewer Rats have never lost a paintball war and we're not going to chicken out now.
