The top floor was a sports club, with a pool that was almost the length of the entire floor. At the deep end, the pool ended right at a huge window. You could tread water in the deep end and look out the window at an amazing view. One day while doing just that, I came up with this, probably one of my darkest stories. FLUSHIE Duncan held his breath. He always held his breath, and he had gotten quite good at it. But not good enough. “I coulda had a C!” growled Brett Duggan when the assault began. “I needed a C on this test—I told you that!” Duncan had squirmed and fought against Brett and Nate’s powerful grip, but then Charlie had joined in. “Hold him!” yelled Nate, his voice echoing in the tiled bathroom. It hadn’t taken the three of them long to push Duncan to his knees. “All you had to do, Duncan, was get a B,” said Brett, pretending to be calm. “You know what a B is, don’t you? Anything less than ninety percent! But does Duncan Goldwater get a B? No. You get a hundred and four!
