Wingtips, despite their deceptively swift nomenclature, are not built for speed. Fortunately, wearing your pants somewhere half-past your butt isn’t exactly suited to high speed pursuit. While I ran for my life, hands bound together in front of me, the cousins ran and tugged at loose-fitting pants.

In a clumsy version of a high hurdler I burst through some undergrowth and rolled down a hill, but I kept the momentum going back up to my feet and in stride. I watch a lot of action movies. My heart leapt when I saw her, in the soft glow of a streetlight leaning against a car, salvation with luscious curves. Lupita.

You idiot! I screamed at myself, on the inside, She’s not salvation. She’s driving the get-away car! But man, she did look good. With more than a little heartache I changed direction so I was still fleeing the cousins now crashing out of the undergrowth, and away from the brunette I was destined to kill.

All I can say is, thank goodness for high school track and clean living.