“But…I think I am a chicken.”
“No, George,” Marty said. “Every guy has one thing he’ll stand up and fight for, and I think with you it’s Lorraine.”
“Yeah…but when Biff comes at me…”
“Well, we’re just gonna have to teach you how to handle that,” Marty said. “We’ll start this afternoon, right after school’s over.”
George took a deep breath and nodded. A faint hope seemed to appear in his eyes.
Four hours later, the two young men got together again in George’s back yard. Marty brought along a homemade body bag which consisted of clothes stuffed into a duffel bag until it was solid as a rock. After spending several minutes trying to teach George how to throw hooks and jabs, he offered himself as the target.
“I want you to hit me in the stomach,” Marty said. “Right there. Go ahead.”
He dropped both hands to his sides.
“But I don’t want to hit you in the stomach,” George protested.
“You’re not gonna hurt me. Just give me a punch.”
“Look, I’m not a fighter.”
“How many times do I have to explain it to you?” Marty demanded. “We know you’re not a fighter. You know it. I know it…”
“And Biff knows it.”
“Forget Biff. The important thing is Lorraine doesn’t know it. That’s why we’ve gotta make you at least look like a fighter, somebody who’ll stand up for himself, who’ll protect her.”
“But I’ve never picked a fight in my life!” George cried. “You’re not picking a fight, Dad—” Marty said. “I mean, George. You’re coming to her rescue.”
“It sounds so corny…”
“Girls like corn. Now maybe we’d better go over the plan again. Where are you gonna be at 8:55?”
George sighed. “At the dance.”
“And where am I gonna be?”
“In the parking lot with her.”
“O.K. So right around nine o’clock, she’s gonna get very angry with me—”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why will she get angry with you?”
“Because I’m gonna get pushy. And nice girls get angry at guys who try to take advantage of them.”
“You mean you’re gonna—”
Marty nodded.
A strange sad look crossed George’s face. “Suppose she lets you?” he asked.
“How can you say that?” Marty shot back. “She’s not only a nice girl but she’s my—”
“Yeah?”