My Gino Teavor Rage  I'm with some people. My grade school classmate Gino Teavor is there. Gino gets very hyper and angry, throwing one of his fits that he does when we play baseball. I comment on his inability to remain calm. Others and I, including my grade school classmates Patrick Bergman and Jerry Kasper, are near the south end of Bauer or Old Avenue in Oak Valley near the service road that runs below the Main Street overpass. Gino has left the group in one of his fits: mad, pouting, and angry. I yell at him in the distance. I tell him he's weak. My goal is to help him, to make him realize how he's acting. I don't know the best way to go about communicating this to him. Earlier, he and I fought. I punched him. He hated it, but didn't respond. He gets mad at my yelling at him and he turns and starts to run at me in a way that only he can: the tense, rigid, emotionally charged rage and determination. I leave the area where we're playing baseball, leaving Jerry and Patrick. I get around a house out of sight and I start to run at a moderate pace. I know Gino is running after me at full speed. I hope to lose him, cutting through yards and between houses, going towards Carter School. There is a group of boys going to play baseball. I turn around to see if Gino is in sight, thinking he probably won't be. He is about 30 feet away from me, with gritted teeth, full of his transient rage. He has on a pair of thick black-framed glasses. He catches up to me quickly. We may fight: I may punch him between the eyes.