The concrete hit my palms first, then my shoulder, then my head. It wasn’t hard enough to knock me out, but it was hard enough that the world tilted sideways and stayed there, the backyard spinning as if I were intoxicated, even though I hadn’t touched the beer cooler. Fifty people were staring. Some were laughing. A few were filming on their phones.
My brother, Tyler, stood over me, his chest heaving, his face red with a mixture of righteous anger and three Bud Lights.
