Category: Superhero

Anat and Marc fight in the Bronx

 

Marc was on the 4-subway line heading up to his favorite place, the Stadium.  In his mind, nothing could be better, a hot dog, knish, Pepsi and victory over the Red Sox.  He went solo. He usually does.  His mom came once on his birthday. He used to go with his dad.

He exited the train and went through the same turnstile he has been exiting for years.  He looked at the new monstrosity of a stadium and had flashbacks of his precious old stadium. Not just his  — But New York’s, the Yankees’ and the worlds.  A rabbi once promised him it’d be rebuilt next to the temple and he could live in it.

He walked around the hallowed grounds of the old Stadium. It was now a kid’s park. Did these younglings know that their sliding ponds, swings and fields were once the grounds that the Babe, Iron Horse, the Yankee Clipper, Yogi, the Scooter, Reggie and many other hall of famers called home?  Oh well.  The sun was shining and it was a great day to take on Boston.

He purchased a bottle of water and walked by Stan’s and was ready to enter the Stadium. He downloaded his ticket and had a big smile on his face.  His phone played Joy Division’s “Isolation”.  He wasn’t in the mood for Alana. He’d get back to her after the game.

He probably should have read her text.  He stood on the corner by the McDonald’s across the street from the Stadium.  Tons of people were milling around.  The ticket scalpers were doing their thing, the people who sold merchandise that fell off a truck were making the money and the smells of hot dogs, sausages and everything else permeated the air.

He gazed aimlessly at the Stadium and was about to cross the street to go in.  His feet started to move him.  All of a sudden he heard someone shrieking his name. At times he ran into friends from his temple, scouting, etc. at the game.

He quickly turned around. He didn’t see anyone he knew.  He saw Anat and some other folks. At this point, he had no idea who or what she is. She was wearing tattered shorts, boots and a worn Big Papi t-shirt.  She had a red purse with a baseball rolling around in it.  She had cakes of dirt on her arms and well-toned legs.  People were moving away from her. Once again, Marc glanced at the crowd and figured whoever called his name out must have thought he didn’t hear them and carried on.

“Marc, Marc,” Anat belted out.

“Do I know you? I apologize but I don’t seem to recognize you.”

“You don’t know me. We’ve never met. But your ex-girlfriend tormented me as a kid.”

He breathed in deep and asked what did Alana do. Not that she was his girlfriend or ex-girlfriend.  The two have never determined their relationship. He had no idea why he picked her. But figured she might be the right choice. As a young girl people sometimes picked on her for her darkness. But she always held her ground and flew high.

“No. Not Alana.  I know you went to grade school with Jen.  I stalk her on Facebook.  I know you dated her.  I don’t like her current happiness. You don’t even know what she did to me. And yes, I know about your goth chic.  We’ve met. She’s of no worry to me. “

Marc wasn’t sure what to do. He wanted to go into the stadium. He had an overpriced hot dog to buy. And he likely had an expensive t-shirt to purchase. He waved goodbye to Anat.  She ran toward him and raised her left boot and connected to his abdomen. He was aghast for air.  He tensed up. He started chanting about the seven species of fruit and grains. The last of which is honey. He thought of when Samson killed the lion and how he found bees its tummy.  As he was speaking his eyes were shooting honey at Anat.  She was shooting prunes, dates and enlarged raisins out of her hands.  Some hit Marc.

He began smacking her with pomegranates that were flying like Rivera’s cutter.  She stomped her boots on 161 Street. He shot barley.  Raisins hit him the eye. He was temporarily blinded.  He took a deep breath, rubbed his eyes.  As his eyes opened honey with the speed of heavy rapids on the Delaware River shot out of them and knocked down Anat. She rose quickly.  They battled for a few more moments. She turned looked at him and said, I’ve only just begun.  Jen better watch herself. I know you’re silly enough to come to her rescue. But I am going to get her.  By the way, I know you taught her about canoe swamps. Ask her what she did to me in camp.  She walked off.  He raced into the Stadium, bought a hot dog, took his seat and read the text he should have read an hour ago, “Marc I think we have an enemy. I was attacked by a crazy boot-clad woman who fights with dried fruit.”

 

 

Anat’s Origin and her grandmother’s death

Tzipora was out and about. She was having a fairly normal day. She was still hanging out with Eran. The two were getting along. She wasn’t one hundred percent sure about him. But she was enjoying the ride. She was fairly faithful. However, she had a tryst or two with some women she hooked up within a vampire bar.

Alana was still thinking about her fight with the woman in Prospect Park. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. She kept it to herself. However, she figured she’d have to tell Marc. They may have to join forces.

Anat, the boot-clad woman was trolling the city. Born in Flatbush, she had a rough upbringing. Her parents are of mixed Middle Eastern descent — Syrian, Lebanese and Iraqi. They lived in Safed for a short period before coming to Brooklyn. Her parents really weren’t ready to have children when they had her. They weren’t poor or uneducated. They were just having a really hard time adjusting to life in the U.S. They didn’t pay much attention to her pretty much from the time she was born. Both parents drank too much Arak and at times were physically abusive to each other and their daughter.

She had trouble making friends. Her grandmother loved her and did her best to take care of her. Anat loved this woman more than anything. Grandma gave her the only love she ever knew. Her first pair of boots was given to her as a toddler from grandma. She never took them off. This caring woman made her bathe. But her parents sometimes wouldn’t let their daughter see grandma and never cared if she showered. So she didn’t.

Sadly this caring woman died in a bad fall, while Alana was an undergrad enrolled as a finance major at Stanford. She did well in school. She didn’t have any friends. She stuck to herself and always wore a ratty pair of boots. Anat still had hygiene issues. No one would sit near her in the library. She flew home to Brooklyn for the funeral. She sat Shiva and went back to San Jose.

Waiting in her dorm room was a dried fruit platter sent by grandma. Anat freaked out.   The platter arrived via FedEx the day Anat flew home. Grandma shipped it a day before she passed. It was her grandmother who got her hooked on dried fruit. Grandma’s apartment always had this delicacy. She opened the package, cried and dug in. She read the card, “Anat, Enjoy. Study hard. You will do well. — Love, Grandma.” She clutched the card to her chest and cried in her bed. She remembered when she first fell in love with dried fruit. At first, it scared her. It was so dry. But grandma told her it’d be okay. She did have some allergic reactions. And for a short time was afraid of it. It turned out she was allergic to grandma’s awful smelling perfume. Not the snacks. For a long time that’s all, she would eat. She sometimes rubbed the fruit all over herself.

Anat walked down Madison Avenue. She started kicking trash cans.

Jen talks marriage and has memories of camp

Jen and Jake were dining on juicy bone-in ribeyes with perfect marbling at Reserve Cut. A bottle of Shiloh Legend was poured into their wine glasses by the wait staff. Things were getting serious with these two. Jen was hoping a ring was not so far away. Jake felt the same. He even started looking for them with his mom and sister.

As Jen dug into her perfect cut of meat an old camp memory hit her right in the head. She remembered Anat Ovadia. She was a weird kid in camp. She wasn’t the friendliest. She didn’t bathe much. She always wore boots, whether she was hiking the trails, playing softball and soccer. She never took them off. She had an affinity for eating dried fruit. Her grandmother often mailed her platters of it. She never shared.

Jen remembered one late evening when she and her girlfriends, all about 11 or 12 years old grabbed her out of their bunk. She was wearing her boots. The tweens held their noses. They dragged her down to Stone Lake. They pulled her boots off. Anat freaked. They had to gag her to shut her up. They put a life preserver on her and tossed her into a canoe. Jen and the others got into their own canoes. Sarah jumped into Anat’s canoe. They all paddled out to the center of the lake. Jen paddled over to Sarah and Anat. Sarah gave the high sign. Jen swamped Sarah’s and Anat’s canoe. Sarah pulled herself over the side of Jen’s vessel. The other girls circled Anat and started a splash war while Anat struggled. She was not a good swimmer. Thankfully she was wearing a life preserver. She was treading. Tears fell down her face. The girls were taunting her. They stopped and paddled back to the docks. They left Anat in the center of the lake.

The girls sat on the docks and had chocolate snacks. They laughed while they watched Anat slowly swim back.   When she got out of the lake, they made her swear to keep her mouth shut. If she blabbed they promised they’d take her fruit snacks and leave them out for the raccoons. They let her put her boots back on and made her march back to the bunk in silence.

Man, we were mean Jen thought to herself. She sipped her wine and gazed into Jake’s eyes. Jake started talking to her about marriage. Jen felt the butterflies tingle. As he was talking she thought of Marc and was wondering whatever happened to Anat. She was connected with all of her camp friends on Facebook and Linkedin. One or two might even be bridesmaids if everyone goes as she wishes. Later she’d look Anat up. She figured she probably turned out ok and might even be a mom. Her mind flipped to the time she was kissing Marc as Bowie played Starman at the Garden many years ago.

The two left the restaurant, kissed each other good night and headed to their respective subway lines.

Meanwhile, Anat was trolling the city munching on dates and apricots. Life was not kind to her. But she was not kind too much.

Alana is attacked

A woman was sitting in Prospect Park reading a book on her Kindle. Dogs were running around. Kids were laughing and playing. Nothing was unusual on this typical sunny late morning Sunday afternoon at the beginning of the spring.

Alana was skating through the park. She hadn’t been on her skates in many moons. She was gliding by. Her earbuds were pumping Love & Rockets’ “Ball of Confusion.” Her mind was clear. She knew she had to talk to her rebbetzin and her parents. She would get to them all in due time. She wanted to enjoy her morning.

She took her skates off, stretched and sat on a bench for a little while. She all heard the usual sounds basketballs dribbling, kids screaming, bats connecting to balls and music blaring out of people’s mobiles. All was well.

The next sound she heard was a blood-curdling scream from a woman. Her head quickly turned in the direction of the yell. She saw an unkempt woman wearing boots swinging at bat at someone. People gathered around and were shooting shots. No one tried to help. Alana raced over and called out to the assailant. No response. Alana started saying lady chill and drink some wine. Alana even said the blessing for it.

The woman dropped the bat. People went over to the victim and gave her water. Someone took ice out of their picnic cooler and put it on the knee that was smacked with the bat. Meanwhile, the attacker looked at Alana who was still screaming out a blessing. Alana concluded and shot wine out her fingers. She hit the attacker in her eyes and nose. She was miffed for a minute. But seemed unharmed.

All of a sudden the woman’s eyes started flinging dried fruit at Alana, who was beginning to unleash a wave of figs. Some landed in the lady’s mouth and momentarily choked her. The two went at it.

They got closer to the lake. Alana tried to kick her. But was blocked. The dried fruit lady raised her left boot and tried to connect with Alana’s head. Alana ducked. Alana started screaming at the boot-clad woman. Her screams were returned with a deafening silence. The woman’s eyes opened wide and stared right at Alana. Alana shot wine into her eyes. She blinked and nailed Alana with fruit and gave one last look and walked away.

Issues on Coney Island Avenue

Marc was busy studying his Tehillim and Gemara.  The last few weeks went by without a hitch. Work was fine.  Spring training kicked off.  He went on two dates with two different ladies.  They amounted to nothing. But he tried.

He met up with Alana a few times. They went bowling, went to the Victoria Confino tour at the Tenement Museum. Marc has seen it many times. He felt a connection to it. They argued and had deep conversations about life and where it was going. He bumped into Jen a few times. Her relationship with her new guy was going well. She was happy.  She was really forgetting about her past.  If only Marc and Alana could. Doubtful it’d happen.

He invested in a few companies and took things slow. He spent his free time learning and training.  He anxiously awaited the rabbi to call again. But he knew he had more learning to do and the rabbi would call at the right time.

He went to Coney Island Avenue and Avenue J.  His uncle used to shop there.  He once dated a woman from this area. He strolled down the blocks picked up some groceries and wine.

His phone was ringing.  His grandmother.  They spoke for a few minutes and made plans to get together in a few days.  They were going to go to Doody’s to pick up some things for her house. Marc remembered going there with his dad. He’s not sure he’s been there since he was about 7.

The Yeshiva kids were leaving school and heading to the pizza shop.  All was well.

All of s sudden, a car went flying down Coney Island Avenue and Avenue L and smacked into a packed yellow school bus. The bus driver hit the brakes, as the bus skidded several feet down the block.

The driver got out of the car and started running like a madman.  No way was Marc going to let this be a hit and run.

He handed his packages to one of the frumsters and said he’d be back. He asked the kid to watch his stuff and promised him falafel or whatever food he wanted. The kid took the bags and started to pray.

Marc ran after the driver. Meanwhile, Hatzolah and the NYPD arrived.  Thankfully the bus driver and students were ok. A few minor bruises that were treated onsite. The kids texted their parents about the accident and said they needed to be picked up.

Marc cornered the driver. The guy was shaking.  Marc asked him why he ran? The guy spoke in gibberish.  Marc was about to dial 911 on his iPhone when the man pulled out a Glock and pointed it at Marc and told him he was going to blow his head off.

Marc tensed up and started singing verses from Shir HaShirim, the Song of Songs.   He was thinking of the abundance of seeds the pomegranate contains.  The man kept the gun aimed at Marc’s face. Marc didn’t care.  He kept singing.  He arms got thicker. His hands bulged. His well-built legs got heavier.  The man’s finger was on the trigger, as he pulled it, Marc’s wrist flipped pomegranates.  They and the bullet collided. Marc ducked as the bullet’s flight patch was interrupted. He shot a few more out and nailed the man in his hand. The gun fell to the ground. Marc dialed 911 and reported that a man with a gun tried to shoot him. But he was able to kick the gun out of his hand.

Sirens blared. Marc wasn’t sure if he should stay.  He kept on the phone and said he was running into the nearby medical center to be checked out and couldn’t wait. But assured them that the man would be tied up.  Marc tied up the man and went back to the scene of the accident. He grabbed his groceries. He gave the kid $20 for a meal and ran to the Q.

 

 

 

 

Marc’s spiritual connection

Marc’s rabbi called. He carefully listened to every word he said. He went on to discuss in detail bringing barley to the temple on Pesach, Maimonides’ notes about honey aiding one’s memory. Marc took a deep breath. The rabbi then went on to discuss the meanings behind the pomegranates at a Sephardic Rosh Hashanah meal, its symbolism of fertility and love, its placement on ancient Judean coins and the 613 seeds they contain.

The rabbi seemed to think Marc, who is a very spiritual person, was having a great connection to the Holy Land and the Torah. He urged him to continue his studies.

The rabbi instructed him to read certain Tehillim portions each morning and to touch base in a few weeks. Marc knew his mission. Marc promised the rabbi he would only use his powers for good.

Now as for that fertility and love portion, he well you know, texted Alana.

 

 

 

 

 

Pomegranate — 24 Alana has a heart…

Tzipora was out with the Eran, the guy she hooked up with at the Simple Minds concert. They sipped some red at the Highline. She was having fun. However, she had Alana on her mind. For some reason most people do. She stings you like never before.

She and Eran walked hand in hand along the elevated linear park. They stopped for gelato, which she proceeded to spill all over herself. Her shorts ate more of it than she did. The two just laughed and kept walking.

Meanwhile, Alana was reeling from some job interviews and lack of feedback. She wasn’t really looking that hard. But keeping her options open. Some recruiters called her. So she talked.

She was more on the lookout for a new guy. She knew what she wanted. But was that what she really needed. She was still confused about her powers. One day she figured she and Marc could discuss each other’s and join forces. But she wasn’t sure if that’d really work.

She walked out of her office on this beautifully sunny day to grab a hot dog and a soda. All the usual folks were strolling Lexington Avenue near Grand Central. She walked down Madison Barley11while biting into her mustard topped dog.

People who didn’t respond annoy her. Especially after they made the first move. Oh well. She hiked back to the office.

She finished her day and went to the gym. The place was loaded with the Miriam types. Of course, Alana was in better shape than all of them. She had the same money. Just not the attitude.

One of the girls started staring at her. Alana kept running. She left the treadmill and headed over to the bench press. She started lifting and was feeling great. However, that woman was still eyeing her. Alana wondered if word got out about her night with Tzipora. But doubted it. Tzipora wouldn’t say a word and Alana surely would not.

Alan and the stalker went to the locker room. Both showered and left the facility. All of a sudden the woman who was eyeing Alana whipped out a large knife and started running around Madison Avenue scratching cars.

“Why don’t you stop. I saw you looking at me in the gym. Do you need help from me?”

The woman continued to key cars. Then she said, ’’’Ya know, you seem to have it together. You look great and seem comfortable being you.”

Alana cracked up. The other lady kept at it with the knife. Alana had enough. She walked away for a minute. She hoped this woman would stop. She did not. Alana raised her arms and opened her hands. Figs shot out at the woman’s hands. She dropped the knife. Alana knocked her off her feet.

“Listen, I don’t really have it together. But I’m glad that you think I do. Let me get you home.”

Alana took the woman home.

Pomegranate 23 — Marc is hospitalized

Marc went to Staten Island to visit mom. She barbequed hamburgers and hot dogs for lunch. She had all kinds of salads.

She had honey cookies for dessert. I love honey cookies. “Hey, how come you didn’t add any barley or pomegranates to the salad,” he asked.

“Oh stay away from the cookies. Forgot about you and honey.”

“What?”

“You won’t remember. But when you were about three on Rosh Hashanah your grandmother had honey, pomegranates, barley and other stuff. You started eating it all and nearly died.”

She went out to tell him the story. This had been kept from him. His grandmother came around with all of his is so called weapons. He started eating them and turned bright red. He began to shake and become short of breath. His mom flipped out. Everyone figured it was an allergic reaction. He was panting and shook even more. His mom raced him outside to the car and took him to the ER.

He was triaged. The doctors kept him for a few days. He suffered from anaphylaxis and infant botulism. His little arms and legs grew hives and were swollen. His face was beet red. He was put on an IV. He was discharged. The end result was that honey caused the problem. He suffered allergic reactions to the barley and pomegranates. Apparently, the mixture of all three items was nearly deadly.

His mom never let him have these items again. He was told to not to eat them because he might be allergic. He had no memory of trying them again. He was wondering if this is what sparked his powers.

He emailed a trusted rabbi in the Old City. He knew he’d call him back. He always did. While he waited he kept thinking about what happened to him. He wanted to pull the medical records. Of course, this incident happened over 40 years ago. But he sent an email to the hospital.

The rabbi called him back. He opened by blessing Marc. They made some small chit-chat. Marc gave him an abridged synopsis of what was happening. The rabbi was very interested in this. He thought of some of the prophets. He told him he would check some Talmudic scriptures and get back to him. He blessed him again.

As they hung up the hospital records arrived on his phone.

 

 

 

 

 

Pomegranate — 21 Marc has a date, Alana is taunted

Jen and Jake were at Terminal 5 to see Simple Minds. Marc was there, too. He was with his new friend, Miriam. She was a typical JAP. He had liked and disliked those women. But he was trying anything to get out of the Alana-Jen web. He hated general admission SRO shows. Years ago, he had a bad experience at Irving Plaza while seeing the B-52s.

Alana was there. She was with Brad, some guy she met a few days ago. He was a low key guy. She could easily control him. He probably wanted it. Tzipora was lurking around. She was solo.

None of the “friends” saw each other. A great mix of the Cure, Echo and the Bunnymen, Erasure, Depeche Mode, Roxy Music, and Bauhaus was playing. Alana was pleased. She was also yearning for a little Duran Duran in the pre-show tracks.

The line to the ladies’ room was unbearable. The women were waiting. None of them were too far away from each other. But their eyes never met.

Jim Kerr took the stage. The audience went wild. Marc and Miriam were drinking Sierra Nevada Pale Ales. Jen was sipping Rum and diet Pepsi. Her beau was drinking water. Cute. But lame. Alana was pissed they had no Arak. But was doing shots of Grey Goose. Tzipora was dancing away with her Brooklyn Lager.

The audience was singing along as they were sanctifying themselves. Marc and Miriam were embraced. Alana was sort of happy. She was in complete control. But at a loss. This was too easy for her. Her mind drifted to Marc. Then Tzipora. Then she looked at Brad. Too clean cut. But has some sort of sex appeal. She needed to get to know him better. They needed to have conversations and understand each other.

As the band started strumming, “Belfast Child,” Marc’s eyes scanned the room. He saw Jen dancing with Jake and Alana holding Brad’s hand. He was happy. Yet not.

Alana pushed her way with Brad closer to the stage. He followed like a puppy. She smacked right into Marc. They looked at each other and sneered.

“Do you know her, “inquired Miriam? “Whatcha gonna say, Marc,” belted out Alana?

Marc stuttered. “Hmm, yes, we’ve known each other for most of our lives.”
“Marc I’m surprised at you. Look at her. She’s so not your type.” Marc shivered.

“What’s wrong with her, Miriam?”

“Well look at me and her. Tell me what do you see?”

Meanwhile, Jen was dancing like the daffy girl she is. But she was feeling good. Then she saw the others. She sensed they were getting ready for a brawl. She wasn’t sure what she should do. Should she stay where she was? Or should she get herself closer? But why would she want to ruin a potentially good new relationship? Jake is a good guy. He had a decent job and seems to care about Jen. But after all, Jen is Jen. So she and Jake walked toward the others.

While this was going on Tzipora was trying to hook up with some guy. She was also eyeing a petite blonde female.

“I see a beautiful woman.”

Miriam laughed. “Look at how she’s dressed.”

“What’s the matter, girl? Did you not expect to see goth girls at tonight’s show? Did you daddy buy your clothes? And all of your jewelry? Are they paying your mortgage?”

“Marc I think we need to move away. This girl is batty.”

Marc stood frozen. “You’re very pretty, Miriam. Alana and I go way back.”

“That’s right we do. He took me to his special places, such as his summer camp. I’m sure you went to one of those camps where they did your laundry and made your bed.”

“Marc I know we are just getting to know each other. And you should be thankful  you are sipping drinks and are dancing with me. Not this freak.”

Jen was taking it all in. She grabbed Jake and started kissing him. The band played.

“Hey, girlie, you’re the freak. Maybe we should compare notes? I’m sure he and I have more in common.”

Marc tried to calm the two ladies. But couldn’t. Miriam was tipsy. She clearly couldn’t handle her alcohol.   Despite her shots, Alana was stone-cold sober. Marc grabbed Miriam. She started screaming. She threw her drink at Alana. The beer spilled all over Alana’s new skirt. The bottle cracked onto the floor. Pieces of glass hit Alana’s legs. Marc was petrified. He knew he had to get Miriam out of the club. She stood no chance. Another girl lost. Or not.

Of course, Simple Minds closed their show with “Don’t you forget about me”.

Pomegranate — 20 — Jen breaks out of the web, Alana…..

Jen was flying happily. She spent a lovely afternoon on a date at the Guggenheim and a stroll along the Jackie Kennedy Onassis Central Park Reservoir with brownies from the By the Way Bakery. She and Jake enjoyed the art and their walk. They ended their date with a nice embrace and meaningful kiss. They agreed to meet for dinner next Thursday.

She texted her sister to let her know things went well and were on her way to her apt. And asked her if she wanted to meet for pizza. She felt so relieved that she met a new guy and he seemed to like her. Maybe she’d rid herself of Marc. Let him stay with his goth girl and they can beat each other. They enjoy it.

Meanwhile, Alana was running through Central Park. She saw families and couples picnicking. She knew she’d never be in that situation. But she was coming to terms with it all.

She stopped by the boathouse for a beer. She sat outside by the lake and sipped her Sierra Nevada. She heard lots of conversations. People were talking to each other. Louder people were screaming into their phones. Typical NYC day.

Alana tossed her beer bottle in the trash and started walking toward Strawberry Fields. As she jogged over she tripped over some garbage. She heard some kids laughing at her. But she let it go. No need to beat up little kids.

She heard the usual folks singing Come Together and Hey Jude. At this point, she was thinking of letting it be.   The tourists were taking their pictures on the Imagine mosaic. She heard laughter and tears. She sat on a bench and hummed Penny Lane. Alana was one of the lonely people.

She stared into space. A ball bounced up and hit her in the knee. A little kid ran over to it. He apologized and took it.

She headed to the train. One of the loons was hanging by the station. He was panhandling and made inappropriate remarks to her. She kept walking. The guy had a female accomplice. She started yelling too. Alana moved on. She always thought it was best to walk away.

She walked toward the Gap. She heard their taunts. She thought they were getting softer. But they weren’t. As she opened the door to the Gap she felt a blade running down her the back of her coat. She moved her elbow back and hit the person wielding the knife. It fell out of her hands. She spun around quickly. It was the woman who was taunting her.

Alana wanted to just go into the Gap. But the woman sprung up with the fallen blade. Alana figured she was probably a mentally ill woman who was discharged from a psych ward as the insurance ran out. Marc dated those types.

She was perplexed. She could let it go. Or strike. The woman tried to stab her. At this point, Alana’s eyes bulged. Her fists clenched. She opened them and figs flew out of her hands. They smacked the aggressor in her shoulders. Some landed in her ears and up her already stuffed nose. The woman screamed. Alana kicked her down. She went into the Gap and bought a skirt.