“Here I faced a decision. I could get on [my bike] and ride away, leaving my friends and Nemo Curliss to their fates. Or I could join them. I was no hero, that’s for sure. My fighting ability was a fantasy. But I knew that if I rode away from that place and point in time, I would be forever disgraced. Not that I didn’t want to, and not that every fiber of good sense wasn’t telling me to haul ass.
But some good sense you listen to, and some good sense you can’t live with.
I walked toward a beating, my heart pounding on its root.”
– Robert McCammon, Boy’s Life (p. 178)