Jack spent the walk from their art class to the locker room trying to convince Alex that they should ditch PE.
"I'll bet Sanders won't even rat us out," Jack said as they neared the pitch. "Come on, we're supposed to play soccer again today. You hate that."
"We shouldn't keep running from our problems, Jack," Alex said, unable to come up with a better rebuttal than that.
"We're not running from problems; we're running from you getting your face bashed in by a Spaniard."
"It'll be fine, Jack."
"You do not sound convinced."
"Look, you can go if you want. I'm staying."
Jack rolled his eyes and threw his arm around Alex's shoulder. "You're insane if you think I'll let you walk into that alone."
"Matthew will be there," Alex pointed out.
Jack raised an eyebrow. "You've come around on that guy quickly, Al," he said. "I wouldn't trust him so fast if I was you."
"He reminds me a lot of you."
"You take that back. Right now."
Alex chuckled, deciding not to point out Matthew's similar reaction to the comparison. Half the class was already on the pitch, stretching or setting up the cones to divide the playing field. Emilio was standing by the far goalpost, organizing the jerseys into piles by colour. Sanders was standing by the entrance to the locker room, surveying the pitch with a more stoic expression than usual. It softened slightly when Alex and Jack approached.
"Good to see you back, Mr. Conrad," he said. "Feeling up to some friendly competition today?"
"Friendly," Jack repeated, his voice dripping with scepticism.
"You gonna cause problems today, Farrow?"
"Me? I am an angel, Sandy."
"Uh-huh. I already gave the others a talking-to. Let's keep things as civil as we can, alright?"
"I find your faith in us disturbing."
"Go get dressed, smartass."
"That was from Star Wars, right?" Alex asked under his breath as they walked inside.
"Very good, Al," Jack said, patting Alex's hair like a puppy. "You're learning."
Matthew was waiting for them inside, sitting on the bench in front of Alex's locker like it was a horse. He smiled at them when they walked in, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Wasn't sure if you would show up," he said once Alex was at his locker.
"I think we shouldn't have," Jack answered, opening his locker more forcefully than he needed to. "I'm betting five bucks blood gets spilt today."
"Couldn't you just ensure you won that bet by being the one to do it?" Matthew pointed out.
"Hey, I'm a peaceful man."
Matthew and Alex exchanged a look that made Jack's face go red.
"Now," he clarified. "I'm a peaceful man now ."
"It's not even been a whole month since you threatened to beat the shit out of me, Farrow."
"Hey when I kick your ass, you're going to deserve it, Montoya."
"I'm sorry did you say when?"
"Mm. I look forward to it."
Alex rolled his eyes and lightly kicked Jack's shins. "You're not funny," he chided.
"Not joking," Jack said, dodging Matthew's own more forceful kick.
Alex managed to keep the two of them from starting an amateur wrestling match while they changed. By the time they got back outside, a large swath of clouds had drifted in front of the sun, covering the pitch in shadows.
"That's not ominous," Jack muttered under his breath.
"Hurry up, boys!" Sanders called from where he was handing out the coloured jerseys. "Today is Red v Yellow, Green v Blue."
The three of them glanced at the red jerseys Sanders gave Alex and Matthew, then at Emilio who was standing on the opposite end of the pitch. Wearing a yellow jersey.
"I think you two should leave," Jack said.
"He's all talk, Farrow," Matthew insisted, taking the two jerseys. "He relies on people baulking at his size and backing down. I've dealt with dozens of guys like him before."
Jack didn't look convinced, but he didn't say anything else as he took the blue jersey Sanders offered him. Before they split off to their different sides of the pitch, Jack poked a finger into Matthew's chest with a little too much force.
"Tell that guy he better be nothing but talk," he said. "Because I'm not."
Alex grabbed Jack's hand and pulled it away from Matthew. "Don't get mad at him, Jack," he said. "And escalating things won't help."
"Hey, I don't plan on letting him get away with anything either," Matthew said, rubbing the spot where Jack had made contact. "I'm touched by your concern, though."
Jack rolled his eyes and headed over to his side. Once he was out of hearing range, Matthew gave Alex a smirk. "Told you," he said, gesturing to Jack. "He's like your mama bear."
Alex warmed slightly. "Did you mean that?" He asked to change the subject. "You think Emilio wouldn't do anything? He tried to fight Jack at Ellie's party."
"Who won?"
"They didn't actually. Ellie broke them up. And... Well, Malcolm was the bigger problem that night."
Matthew must have read Alex's expression because he reached up to flick his forehead. "Stop," he said. "Proverbial water under proverbial bridges. Come on, let's get you a cushy defence position."
Emilio didn't pay them much mind as they joined their other teammates. Sanders came over to get them set up a few minutes later. Alex noticed he pulled Emilio aside and said something Emilio looked displeased about. It looked like he tried to argue, but Sanders said something to make him stop, and he trudged off to take his team's goalkeeper position.
Keeping you on opposite sides, AJ noted. Perhaps he doesn't have as much faith as he wants to. He'd probably put you in goal too if you weren't so shite.
For the first half of the match, Matthew kept the ball on Yellow's side, though he couldn't manage to score against Emilio. There was one moment when the two collided as Matthew was trying to score and Emilio blocked it. Alex tensed with the anticipation that it would turn into a fight, but they both just got up and kept playing. He wondered how much that had to do with their self-control, and how much it had to do with Sanders paying a lot more attention to their game than the other one. When it happened a second time, Sanders called them out with a warning.
"Do that again and you'll both be running laps after class," he shouted. They listened, though neither looked happy about it.
Halfway through the game, Sanders had his attention diverted to the other match. One of the boys on Jack's team had injured himself. The second his back was turned, Emilio grabbed one of his teammates, said something to him, and took over his position as a forward.
"Tired of barely blocking my shots?" Matthew taunted.
"Scared of having a real threat out on the field?" Emilio shot back. "Go cry to Sanders about it if you want."
Matthew ground his teeth but didn't say anything to that. You should go cry to Sanders, AJ said. Alex glanced over at Sanders to see he was helping the boy who had been injured limp over to the locker room. Go on, not like you've got any pride to lose.
It's fine, Alex tried to insist as they got set up for a toss-in. He didn't sound very convincing.
Fine. Nice knowing you.
Alex wondered if Emilio's play style was just inherently aggressive, or if it was purely a product of his anger. Either way, it was enough to put Alex on edge even when he was watching from a distance. One of their teammates tried to throw the ball to Matthew, but Emilio dashed in and stole it out of nowhere. Matthew managed to get it back and barely kept it away with his speed advantage. He sent the ball towards the goal, where it soared past the much less skilled goalie and into the net. Matthew couldn't quite enjoy his victory, because Emilio was right behind him and decided to stop his momentum with Matthew's body. Alex winced as Matthew went crashing to the ground.
"Lo siento, pequeño, " Alex heard Emilio say. "I should have put the brakes on sooner."
Matthew shot Emilio a glare as he walked away without offering to help him up. When he got to his feet, he looked like he might be limping for a second. But after a couple of steps, he seemed fine. He came back to Alex's side of the field as Emilio and his teammates got set up at their half-field line.
"Are you alright?" Alex asked when he was closer.
"Fine," Matthew said, sounding pained. Alex figured he didn't need that pointed out. "Just... keep your distance, okay? Who cares if he scores a stupid goal?"
"He's all talk huh?"
"It's just underhanded peacocking."
"Is your ankle-"
"That's what it always looks like, dude, it's fine."
"I don't think so."
"You spend a lot of time looking at my ankles, Allie?"
Alex bumped him with his elbow and tried not to heat up. "I just know what a person's body is supposed to look like," he said. "Maybe you should-"
"It's fine," he insisted around a wince. "I'll try to keep him off you, alright?"
"Don't hurt yourself," Alex said as he jogged back up the field. Matthew threw a thumbs up over his shoulder.
One of Emilio's teammates kicked the ball into play, passing it to him once they crossed the midfield line. Matthew tried to steal it back, but Emilio managed to dodge him, and Matthew got tangled up with another Yellow player. Emilio was left relatively unchecked after that. Partly because he was markedly better than the rest of them, but mostly because he looked a little terrifying barreling down the field. Everyone seemed to understand it would be in their best interest to stay out of his way. He had a clear path to the goal, and when he was in a comfortable shooting range, he swung back his right foot farther than he needed to. Alex realized why too late. At the last second, he reangled his body, and instead of sending the ball towards the net he sent it flying directly towards Alex's face.
Alex tried to bring his arms up to protect himself, but he was way too slow. The ball slammed into his face so hard it made his ears ring. His nose took the brunt of the damage, but at first, he was worried the impact might have knocked a tooth loose. Alex's too-slow hands went to his mouth as if that would keep any teeth at risk from coming out. He intentionally took a knee when he felt himself losing balance. Someone came over to him right away, but his swimming vision made him unable to tell who. He just knew it wasn't Matthew. Alex could hear him in the distance, shouting at Emilio.
"Fucking asshole!" He said, his voice slowly getting closer.
"It was an accident," Emilio shouted back in Spanish. "I did not even kick it that hard. Not my fault he is so delicate ."
"Alex, are you okay?" Matthew said, suddenly on his knees right in front of Alex.
Alex tried to open his mouth to say yes, but as soon as he did, he tasted something wet and metallic. He took his hands away from his mouth and blinked at his palms. They were covered in blood as if he had just been enjoying some demonic finger painting. He panicked for a second, thinking the amount meant all his teeth had been knocked out. He relaxed slightly when he realized it was flowing from his nose. It didn't register right away that the sheer amount that was coating his face was not a relaxing sight at all.
"Holy shit," Matthew breathed out, his voice shaking with a mix of concern and anger. "Oh, I'm gonna kill him."
"It's fine," Alex said quickly as blood continued to stream down his chin and onto his shirt. "I'm fine."
"See?" Emilio said, his voice much closer now. Matthew turned to shoot him a very intense glare, but he didn't look phased by it at all. He almost looked like he was smiling. "No harm done."
"Apologize," Matthew growled, getting to his feet. "Now."
"So ferocious. Was the hush money for what happened at the party not enough? Is he paying you to be his guard dog as well? He should have picked something bigger than a chihuahua."
Matthew clenched one of his fists and looked like he was seconds away from swinging it, so Alex shot his feet and grabbed his wrist. "Don't, Matthew," he begged. "He's not worth it."
Matthew looked tempted to listen, but Emilio leaned forward and opened his mouth again. "Wow, he made you his bitch fast, huh," he said in Spanish. "Or maybe he bought you off by letting you make him yours when no one is -"
Emilio didn't get to finish. Matthew snatched his fist out of Alex's grip and swiftly planted it across Emilio's left jaw. Emilio staggered backwards, though Alex had a feeling it was mostly because he wasn't expecting the hit, and not because it did much damage. Within seconds he recovered and moved to return the blow. Matthew may have been able to dodge it, but he was too busy shoving Alex out of harm's way. Emilio landed a very heavy-looking punch to the side of Matthew's face. It didn't knock him over, but it disoriented him enough for Emilio to get in another hit that landed him on the ground.
Alex thought that would be it, but Matthew was miraculously still determined to put up a fight. From the ground, he tackled Emilio's legs with enough force to knock him down too. Matthew got in a knee jab to Emilio's gut and one more hit to the jaw before Emilio shoved him off and started his counter-assault. Matthew brought his arms up to protect his face like a boxer, but Emilio's sheer size advantage made it clear who the winner would be if the fight dragged on any longer.
Without thinking, Alex took a step toward them. Emilio was taking it way too far. Someone had to stop him. Alex couldn't just not do anything again. Before he could get any closer, though, he was jerked backwards by a hand on his shoulder. Alex turned his head to see Jack, his face a mask of quiet rage. He pulled Alex farther away from the scuffle as Sanders ran over from the locker room entrance. He shouted for them to stop, but Emilio wasn't listening. He kept swinging at Matthew, who wasn't even attempting to retaliate anymore. Sanders had to physically pry Emilio off him, and then position himself in between the two. For a second Emilio looked like he was going to barrel through their teacher, but Sanders put a hand up and barked out a single word.
"Enough!" he shouted, so loud and commanding that it made everyone on the pitch stop what they were doing and freeze. Alex swore it somehow echoed in the open air. It took a second for him to realize he had heard the command in Hindi, but no one seemed to have difficulty understanding it.
"You really couldn't manage yourself for two minutes?" Sanders said in English as he knelt by Matthew's side. "How old are you two?"
"He started it!" Emilio said, jabbing a finger at Matthew. Although his face was bashed in and he was heavily wheezing, Matthew tried to lunge for Emilio again. Sanders didn't have to put in much effort to keep him back.
"Run your mouth off again and I'll end it, pinche cabrón," Matthew said, somehow managing to sound threatening despite how he had just lost that battle. Sanders rolled his eyes at Matthew's attitude, and in the process noticed Alex's state for the first time.
"Christ, Conrad," he muttered. "Which one of these idiots did that to you?"
Alex covered his nose and mouth as if that would hide the blood that was still cascading down his face. "It was an accident," he said, trying and failing not to look at Emilio. "Just a stray shot. I'm fine."
"You know your blood is supposed to be inside your body, right?" Jack said as Sanders fished a sports towel out of his back pocket.
"Farrow, take these two to the infirmary," he said, tossing the towel at Alex so his blood had something other than his shirt to soak into. "Guerrero, my office." Emilio opened his mouth to argue, but Sanders stopped him before he could say anything. "Now ."
Emilio clenched his jaw and his fists, but he went off to the locker room without further protest. The other boys in their class who had gathered to watch the fight and its fallout all skirted well out of his way.
"Can you walk, Montoya?" Sanders asked Matthew as he helped him to his feet.
"Relax, Coach," Matthew said, wobbling slightly once he was standing. "That was weak shit."
"Uh-huh. Don't leave the infirmary until I call for you, genius. You better pray all this is weak enough to not get you canned back to the States." Sanders turned to address the remaining spectators. "Off to the showers, the rest of you."
The rest of the class slowly did what they were told, murmuring among themselves as they did. "Um, sir?" Alex said as he cradled his nose with the towel. "What are the odds you could not tell my uncle about this?"
Sanders frowned and raised an eyebrow.
"Right. Stupid question. Sorry."
"You sure you don't want to tell me a different story about how you got hurt?" he asked.
"Just the danger of not being a very good footballer, I guess."
Sanders did not look like he bought that either. "You wait at the infirmary, too," he told Alex before turning to Jack. "And once you're done helping them, you make sure you get to your last class."
"But-"
"Do not. Push me right now," Sanders said, again in Hindi. Jack somehow understood because he didn't say anything else as Sanders went off to the lockers.
"Is my brain scrambled or did he just speak to you in Spanish?" Matthew muttered.
"He was using his powers," Alex realized out loud. They had all probably heard him speaking in their first language. "I wonder if he was doing that on purpose."
"And based on the way you look," Jack said, shooting Matthew a glare, "your brain is probably pudding right now. You know when I told that jerk your dick measuring contest better not get my friends hurt, you were meant to listen to that too."
"Jack, this wasn't his fault," Alex said
"Yeah, I'm sure the fact that he feels the need to pick a fight with anyone who even slightly ticks him off has never negatively impacted any innocent people around him."
"You trying to piss me off too, Farrow?" Matthew said, trying to step towards him. Any air of intimidation he had slipped away when his now noticeably swollen ankle gave out from under him. Alex barely managed to catch his arm in time to keep him from falling. Jack rolled his eyes and went around to his other side.
"Can't believe you're trying to start another fight when we all saw you lose the last one," Jack said as he put one of Matthew's arms around his shoulders so they could both support him on the walk to the infirmary.
"Excuse you, I did not lose," Matthew argued as they slowly hobbled along. "It was called early."
"Oh, let me guess. You had him on the ropes, right where you wanted him, seconds from an upset victory?"
"Yes, exactly. And here I thought you were the vapid type."
"What the hell were you even thinking? Why would you throw the first punch against a guy three times your size?"
"Three times is a gross exaggeration."
"It's not. You are tiny and he is huge."
"Whatever. I don't need to explain myself to you."
"He was standing up for me," Alex decided to say, hoping the truth would make Jack warm up to Matthew a bit more. "Emilio hit me with the ball on purpose. Matthew was trying to get him to apologize."
"So, you could tell it was on purpose," Matthew said, narrowing his eyes at Alex. There were already some misshapen bruises forming on his face, and a spot on his bottom lip had been split open. There were a couple of scrapes and cuts on his forehead and cheek too. The most damage was on his arms though, since they bore the brunt of the assault. "I didn't think you were that naïve. Why didn't you tell Sanders? He would have believed you."
"What good would it have done? Everyone's on edge so much already. Emilio gets in trouble for giving Conrad a little bloody nose during a football match, and next thing you know parents like Malcolm Greene are kicking up a storm about how it's proof we were never meant to be thrown together. You guys are dangerous, and my family was right to keep you out for so long. No one will care that Malcolm did worse to you less than a month ago or see any nuance to the circumstances of this past week. They'll want to treat him like an example, and not like the angry and scared kid he is."
Matthew shook his head. "You're too nice, Allie," he muttered. "And you're assuming too much about his emotional state and motivations. He and Baptiste weren't even friends." Matthew swallowed hard and looked down at the ground. "He doesn't care what happened to him. He's just trying to make an example of him. Turn him into some fucking martyr instead of a person."
"...I'm sorry. That's not very kind of him. But... Well, he's a person too. A child. Fighting children. Over things our ancestors started." Matthew's eyes widened, and Alex had a feeling Baptiste had said that to him too. "I just... I'm tired of feeling stuck in that loop. I'm not sure what the right way to fix things is. If there even is one. But letting this go feels better than trying to make him suffer disproportionately for it."
Matthew let out an irritated puff of air. "Maybe you are naïve," he said, but his tone made it feel like a compliment rather than a condemnation.
"I should still thank you, though. For defending me. It was..."
"Brave? Impressive? Dashing? Attractive?"
Alex just barely managed to keep himself from heating up at those last two suggestions. "Comforting," he decided to say. "To know you would do something like that for me. So, thank you, Matthew."
It was Matthew's turn to try to hide his embarrassment. "You're welcome," he muttered.
"Please never do it again, though. Jack is right, Emilio is at least three times bigger than you."
"You know now that I think about it," Jack said, lifting Matthew off the ground slightly, "it's probably closer to four."
"First of all, fuck the both of you. Secondly, Farrow, you do that again you best be willing to carry me the rest of the way."
"Easy. What do you weigh, 90 pounds? I bet my little sister is-"
Jack was cut off when Matthew let go of Alex's arm and used his good leg to launch himself high enough to latch onto Jack's back. His arms circled Jack's neck, forcing Jack to catch Matthew's legs to stop himself from getting choked.
"Fuck off Montoya!" Jack shouted, barely able to keep himself from tipping over. "The fuck have you been eating?"
"But I'm so little," Matthew taunted. "Surely, you're strong enough to carry such a little guy, right? You're not that weak, are you?"
"Ugh, fine," Jack said through clenched teeth. "Just don't move around so much."
"Giddy up, Ponyboy."
"Oh, keep that up and I'm dropping you, fucker."