Upon arriving home, Teddy quickly entered the house, completely ignoring Georgie, who was strangely sitting on the porch.
"Hey man, what's up?" I calmly asked as I approached.
"Your mom told me you went to pick up your sister, so I waited for you out here," Georgie replied, looking uncomfortable.
"Oh ok, wanna hang out or something?" I asked, checking my watch and thinking about the free time I had before meeting Case. "I don't think I have permission to go out right now, but I think we've got a couple of sodas in the fridge," I added, pointing inside my house.
"Oh yeah, sure," Georgie responded, sounding impressed for some reason.
"Great," I continued, studying his slightly uncomfortable expression. "Are we cool?" I asked, confused. He wasn't scared I was going to hit him, right? Or worse, had his mother already found out about the fight and reacted the way Mrs. Cooper would?
"Wha- oh yeah, of course," Georgie quickly replied, though he didn't seem very sure of his answer. "It's just that..." he trailed off, struggling to continue his thoughts. "I'm sorry, everything happened so fast, and by the time we could get there, the crowd had already formed," he finally said.
"What?" I asked, amused, now understanding the situation.
"Yeah well, Brock came in, and you were pretty fast, and before anyone could react, you had already knocked Johnson to the ground," Georgie explained, exhaling as he recalled the older student on the floor. "Then everyone stood up and ran to where you were fighting Smith."
"It's fine, Georgie, don't worry about it," I quickly said, incredulous that my friend was worried about not having 'helped' me. "I don't mind at all. I wasn't even planning it; I completely got carried away in the moment," I assured him.
"Good, maybe next time you plan on doing something like that, give us a heads up, so we can distract them while you kick their asses," Georgie said, much more relaxed, joking around.
"Sure, I'll make sure to let you guys know next time," I said sarcastically, playfully shoving my friend.
"So, did they expel you or something?" Georgie asked as we entered the house to grab the sodas, prompting me to tell him everything that had happened after his dad had dragged me out of the cafeteria.
Later, Georgie went home, and I left for the gym. It was time for training with Case.
The gym was pretty packed with people training at their own pace. Case and Tim, the ones in charge of giving instructions, were making their rounds when they saw me walk in.
"Hey, what's up?" I greeted them as I dropped my things in a small area behind the front counter.
"All good, there are three new clients," Tim said with a friendly smile.
"Did you write them in the logbook?" I asked, grabbing the register.
"Yeah, you guys start in five," Case, who was explaining foot positioning to one of the clients, said sternly. "Are they broken?" he asked, quickly inspecting my hands without changing his expression at all.
"No," I replied.
"Good. Explain how the fight went," he nodded, harshly ordering me as he caught Tim's attention, who seemed unaware of my hands.
Without going into too much detail, I carefully explained to Case and Tim how I remembered the fight.
"So, with just over three months, you felt brave enough to fight two-on-one?" Case asked, crossing his arms and shaking his head in disbelief.
"I wasn't thinking straight; I was angry," I admitted, immediately regretting my choice of excuse as Case shook his head again and walked to the other side of the gym, stopping to help whoever he thought needed it.
"Poor choice of words," Tim said sarcastically, patting my shoulder. "Good luck."
Yeah, I know.
"We're doing sparring," Case said once we were ready, throwing Tim and me training gear—gloves and padded headgear. "Only striking," he continued, clearing a small padded area of the gym.
During the time I've trained with Case, we've done several sparring sessions of different types. Usually, it was more common to do it on the ground, but once in a while, there were standing training sessions.
"Kicks and takedowns allowed, no more than five seconds of grappling," Case explained the rules, drawing the attention of the others in the gym. Sparring wasn't yet common at the gym, and it attracted attention since it was the closest thing to a live fight.
"Try not to overdo it with the low kicks," Tim said with a grin as he put on his headgear. In the relatively few striking sparring sessions Tim and I had, I took full advantage of his massive build, which made him slower and more prone to low kicks.
"I can't promise anything," I said with a smile as I put on my headgear.
"Oh yes, you can," Case suddenly said with a malicious grin. "Don't worry about punches or kicks, Tim. PJ's only going to defend," he declared, crossing his arms.
"What?" I asked incredulously.
"Oh yeah," Tim said, clearly excited and mocking me.
"Don't joke, Case," I practically begged, ignoring Tim's creepy smile. "How is that fair?" I asked.
"Life isn't fair," Case declared with a smile. "If I were you, I'd strap that headgear on tight," he added as he walked away from the 'ring.'
"Tim, brother, have mercy," I said quickly, tightening my headgear and smiling nervously at my muscular friend.
"I can't promise anything," Tim replied, mocking me as he cracked his knuckles, preparing to turn me into his human punching bag.
"Go on," Case ordered with a loud clap, making Tim immediately advance, raising his guard despite knowing he wouldn't be getting hit.
Since Tim was much bigger than me, he was fortunately also relatively slower, which allowed me to dodge the few punches I could. The rest I had to absorb with my guard or try to deflect, but unfortunately, we didn't have infinite space.
"I thought you'd understood by now—an angry mind is a narrow mind," Case said forcefully from the sidelines. "I don't say things just for you to ignore them. That's not how this works. I train you to be the best. If you go into a fight angry, no matter the outcome, you've already lost."
"I understand, I'm sorry," I said, as I took another punch from Tim, trying with all my strength to distance myself from my gigantic friend.
"No, you don't. You think there are no consequences because you beat two untrained teenagers and won?" Case asked, annoyed. "Do you think you're strong?" he asked again. "You're not," Case declared.
Listening to Case's words while Tim continued his surprisingly steady assault on me began to annoy me slightly.
"I was defending a friend," I said angrily, dodging a jab from Tim.
"Congratulations, you're a real hero," Case said, clapping with dripping sarcasm. "I don't care," he continued seriously, stopping his fake applause. "I train you expecting a certain level of fighter from you, and in your first real fight after being trained by me, you go and ruin it like that. It's embarrassing."
"What?" I asked angrily. "I won," I declared, frustrated, looking at Case and losing sight of Tim, who took advantage and swept my legs, pushing me to the ground and mounting me, just like I had done with Smith in the cafeteria.
"No, you didn't," Case said as Tim sat on my torso, pounding my arms, which were covering my head and face. "In a fight, victory belongs to the one who keeps their mind clear and their focus on strategy, not to the one who gets carried away by anger or frustration," he said, motioning for Tim to stop. "Therefore, that fight—you lost."
"Sorry," I said, embarrassed, with Tim still on top of me, prompting Case to nod.
"Continue with a normal sparring session, five minutes, three rounds," Case said sternly, walking back among the other people in the gym.
Tim, seeing that Case had finished his lecture, got off me and offered his hand to help me up. "I was just starting to have fun," Tim joked, sensing that the atmosphere was slightly tense.
"I'm going to give you so many low kicks you won't feel your legs tomorrow," I said, pretending to be angry as I accepted Tim's hand.
After the training and checking the logbook and the money in the register one last time, I went home.
"Wow, what happened to your hands?" Gabe asked during dinner, eyeing the color of my skin.
"Your brother was in a fight," Mom, clearly upset by the reminder, said, pressing down hard on her salad.
"Bianca told me. It was against two guys," Teddy said immediately after Mom, clearly eager to share what she knew, probably from talking on the phone with her friends.
I didn't remember seeing Kat in the cafeteria, but knowing how gossip spreads in school, it was silly to think she hadn't heard about it from someone else.
"Cool, did you win?" Gabe asked, leaning closer to inspect my hands, apparently studying the skin on my knuckles.
"It's not 'cool.' It's stupid and unacceptable," Mom said furiously, quickly nudging Bob to support her.
"Yeah, violence shouldn't be an option," Bob quickly agreed, looking back at Mom with hopeful eyes, definitely not being forced to say it.
"Bianca heard that the fight was because some older guys were bullying Brock," Teddy added
quickly again.
"They were bullying Brock?" Gabe asked incredulously. "But he's huge. How did you beat someone who could take on Brock?" he asked me.
"Bianca said you left one of them crying and the other with a broken nose," Teddy added once more before anyone else could say anything.
"How did you do it?" Gabe asked excitedly, hearing Teddy's words.
Mom slammed her hand on the table, interrupting anything anyone else might have said. "We're not going to talk about fights at the table," she declared forcefully. "Or anywhere else in the house, at least not in front of me," she added, calming down slightly. "If I hear one more word about it, you're all grounded," she warned, pointing her finger at the rest of us, even Bob.
Having said her piece, Mom continued eating her food, clearly upset, muttering things to herself.
In silence, I looked over at my brother and discreetly winked, making Gabe smile immediately, understanding. I'll tell him later.
The next day, a little later than usual, at school, as soon as I stepped out of my car, I found myself facing my natural enemy at school—whispers and people staring at me like I was an animal in a zoo.
I knew it would happen; I was already used to it, but the annoying feeling of being watched and talked about as if they didn't care that I could see them doing it was still there.
As I entered the school, the already crowded hallways around me immediately quieted for a brief second, with some people, surprised, staring at me as I walked in.
While walking, trying to ignore the murmurs and eyes glued to me, I noticed how some people stepped away, seemingly afraid of me, just like the three students in the bathroom the day before.
"Hey, do people really think I'm going to attack them for no reason?" I asked, greeting David and Georgie, who were already at their lockers next to mine.
"Hey, I think they do, yeah," Georgie said, glancing at the people around us.
"I hope it ends quickly. I have a reputation to uphold," I joked, pretending to be concerned, making Georgie look at me weirdly.
Alan would have enjoyed that joke.
"You okay, man? You're pale," I asked, ignoring Georgie and looking at David, who was standing there with his mouth open, staring at me. "Oh, please tell me you're not scared too. I'm not crazy," I said, exasperated.
"Wha- of course not," my friend said, surprised, sighing as he hid his nerves. "Why would I be scared of you?" he asked sarcastically in a sharp tone of voice.
"That's what I'm asking," I said, laughing as I opened my locker.
"So, do they think Brock will come to school at some point?" Georgie asked, losing his smile for a moment.
I didn't know the answer to that question. I don't think anyone besides Brock knew the answer. The humiliation he went through was something I couldn't imagine how it felt.
"I wouldn't," David replied, much more serious than I had ever seen him before. "That was pretty brutal. I would never recover from it, but Brock is way cooler than me," he continued, slightly lowering his head. "Don't say I didn't," my friend quickly recognized what he had just said and nervously lifted his head.
"Don't worry, man. Your secret is safe with me," I assured him, playfully patting David's shoulder.
"And with me," Georgie added, raising his eyebrows maliciously.
After that, they started a discussion in which I found myself forcibly involved about a beauty contest between two actresses.
"Good morning, PJ," Sheldon suddenly said formally from the hallway.
"Hey Sheldon, good morning," I said, smiling at my little friend and ignoring Georgie, who, as always when his brother arrived to enjoy his 'escort,' complained.
"Can I ask for some advice?" When the boy was well shielded from the people passing by the hallway, who were unaware of his presence as they were more interested in looking at me incredulously, Sheldon, keeping his suitcase close to his body, asked seriously.
"Of course you can," I immediately responded, surprised.
"I would like to overcome my cynophobia, so I wanted to ask someone with medical knowledge for their recommendation," Sheldon calmly said, making David and Georgie frown, surely not understanding the term 'cynophobia.'
Amused by the expression on my friends' faces, I was about to sarcastically thank Sheldon for considering me someone worthy for that task.
"And you're the best I have available for free," Sheldon added, raising his shoulders with a bit of disappointment before I could say anything.
Of course.
"Cynophobia, huh," deciding to ignore the somewhat hurtful comment from the boy, I murmured, "does this have anything to do with the Sparks' new dog?" I asked, slightly smiling at my little friend.
"It's totally related," the boy replied. "My fear of dogs has caused some problems in my family," he declared seriously.
"Some problems?" Georgie asked sarcastically, interrupting anything else Sheldon wanted to say. "Meemaw fought with Mrs. Sparks yesterday. She has a black eye and everything," he said, moving his hand in front of his own funny face.
"Yeah, like I said, problems," Sheldon said, annoyed at being interrupted.
In disbelief, imagining the older woman having a fight with the other woman, I could only shake my head in amusement. "So you want to overcome your fears to avoid causing more problems for your family?" I asked, surprised by the boy's uncharacteristic act.
"Yes, I know. I'm very considerate," Sheldon declared, proudly puffing out his chest.
"Of course you are," I said sarcastically, smiling at the boy.
"So, do you have any recommendations for me?" the boy asked seriously, returning to the topic.
"There are essentially two options, like with any other fear," I nodded seriously. "Option one, gradual exposure. You do small, increasingly 'risky' things to overcome your fear," I continued. "First, you can study everything you want about dogs in books, then watch a movie, for example," I explained, watching as the boy nodded seriously, listening to my words.
"What about option two?" Sheldon asked, interested.
"Option two is to close your eyes and hope for the best, as they usually say, a 'leap of faith,'" I said. "Forcing yourself to interact with the dog and hoping for the best."
With one hand on his chin, Sheldon seemed to be weighing the two options in his head. "I think for now I'll try gradual exposure," he finally said a couple of seconds later.
"Good, come on, let's go to class," I said, patting the boy's shoulder.
"It seems my intelligence is finally giving me the respect I deserve. They're making way for me," Sheldon said proudly as we walked to the first-period classroom, noticing the behavior of the students around him.
"Seems like it," I nodded, amused, agreeing with the boy.
The day at school continued relatively normally. During classes, although I could occasionally notice the concerned looks from the teachers glued to me, they didn't ignore my raised hand during the 'competitions' with Sheldon. They talked to me normally and smiled when I answered a question.
My classmates, on the other hand, seemed genuinely intimidated. So much so that the usual time I spent helping anyone who asked in classes like math or science had been reduced to only my friends asking for help. I didn't really mind too much. Helping someone with a math problem was no issue, but it wasn't something I looked forward to all day.
Additionally, having more free time during each class, after finishing the work left by the teacher, allowed me to copy my notes onto other clean sheets.
"You can do whatever you want now. Everyone knows what you can do and they're scared," David said excitedly as we walked to the cafeteria during lunch, apparently having finally noticed the strange behavior of people around me at school.
"We could use the smoking bathroom whenever we want," Georgie said excitedly, understanding David.
"Get to the front of the cafeteria line immediately," David proposed.
"We could talk to any girl without fearing their boyfriends," Georgie exclaimed, pointing at David and reaching an exciting realization. Unbeknownst to him, he was attracting the attention of people around him, earning unpleasant looks.
"Why does it seem like everything you listed works more for you than for me?" I asked sarcastically, making my two friends lose their excited smiles.
"That doesn't matter right now. The important thing is that you can do whatever you want now that everyone is scared of you," David said nervously, lowering his voice.
"Yeah, I can do whatever I want," I said, rolling my eyes playfully. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to do it. Everything you guys said, except the bathrooms, sounds like something a bully would do, and I'm not a bully," I added, pointing at a bigger guy putting a kid into a trash can.
"So much power, wasted," David said sadly, raising his hands and looking at the school ceiling.
"Sorry," I said playfully to my friend. I wouldn't abuse my 'power,' at least not to bother someone. "Hey!" I exclaimed, calling the attention of the funny guy next to the trash can. "Leave him alone," I ordered seriously, causing a small crowd to slowly form around us, apparently interested in watching another fight.
Noticing a wall of people forming around him, the guy nervously raised his hands, nodding.
"Get him out of the trash can, idiot," I said, seeing that the guy was just planning to leave as quickly as possible, rubbing my forehead.
"Yes, sorry," the guy quickly said, forcefully lifting the kid by his legs and carefully setting him on the ground.
"Thanks," the kid said, shaking his clothes before quickly running away, looking at me puzzled.
"If you try to put someone else in any trash can, I'll make sure to do the same to you," I seriously warned, pointing at the guy's nervously moving foot. "Go on," I ordered, moving my hand and making the guy, like the kid, quickly leave the place.
Patting my friends' shoulders, I continued walking to the cafeteria, completely ignoring the strange looks from people around me.
"I might use my 'power' after all," I said to my friends, who had caught up with me a moment later.
The day continued. During the final period, after 'saving' a couple more freshmen classmates, I didn't have to say anything for the bullies to stop their harassment. Just seeing them was enough. The speed at which gossip spreads in school had its advantages after all.
When the last alarm of the day rang, I was packing my things, ready to go to the hospital, when I suddenly remembered that I had detention.
Not really knowing what to do, I asked for directions to where detention occurred. Fortunately, Georgie knew the place.
In an ordinary classroom, completely deserted at that moment except for Mr. Givens, who was reading, oddly unsurprisingly, a comic book. "Take a seat and don't talk, wha—Duncan, what are you doing here?" the man asked, surprised as he looked up from the comic to see me enter.
"Detention," I said, leaving my backpack next to one of the chairs, not really knowing how to respond. What was I expecting him to say?
"Oh yeah, this is strange," he said, opening his eyes as if remembering that I should be there, nodding. "Well, you can do your homework if you want," Mr. Givens said, shrugging his shoulders hesitantly.
"Oh sure, thanks," I said gratefully. I didn't know what I was supposed to do; doing homework was much more practical.
"Yeah," Mr. Givens replied, frowning and tilting his head. "Yes, this is really strange," he murmured before opening his comic book again.
While I worked on that day's homework and Mr. Givens read his comic, the classroom was slowly occupied by a couple more people. Most were men, but two girls with heavy black makeup and matching clothing, along with spiked collars, were also there, staring at me intently and occasionally whispering things to each other.
With their constant strange looks as they chewed gum, I regretted taking the front seat.
Lowering my head, burying it in my notebook filled with math problems, and trying to ignore the smiles of the two 'dark' girls, I continued my work when suddenly the door was slammed open, and surprisingly, Kat entered, upset.
"Take a seat and don't talk," Mr. Givens said monotonously, as he did every time a new student entered.
Kat ignored the man and entered the classroom, stopping abruptly when she saw me sitting there. She seemed unable to avoid it and let out a playful sigh before completely changing her expression and walking to the back of the classroom.
Seeing my friend walk by, completely ignoring me, my gaze met with the two girls who hadn't taken their eyes off me. They immediately smiled and blew kisses in the air, which was anything but a good feeling.
Detention continued in relative silence. Ignoring Mr. Givens' instructions, the other people in detention whispered quietly among themselves. Only Kat and I remained silent, with only me doing my homework.
In the end, with my homework finished, Mr. Givens checked his watch, closed his comic book with a clap, and said, "You can go," as he quickly left the classroom.
Being the only one who had done any work, I took longer to leave than my detention classmates.
"Hey," as I left the classroom, in the middle of the hallway, the two girls with heavy dark makeup were waiting.
"What's up," I said, quickening my pace and leaving the place rapidly.
Outside the school, a few steps from the main door looking out to the street, Kat was standing, apparently waiting.
"Is your dad going to come?" I asked, stopping beside her. "I can take you home if you want," I added a moment after receiving no response.
"No," Kat finally replied as she walked down the stairs.
"No problem," I said, following my friend. "Kat, come on, where are you going?" I asked, watching her start to walk.
"Home," Kat replied without turning to look at me, not stopping.
"Just wait," I said, exasperated, running to the parking lot and quickly grabbing 'Debbie' from her spot.
I swiftly left the parking lot and reached where Kat was still walking.
"Come on, Kat, get in. You don't have to walk," I said, lowering the passenger window. "I've got good music, I promise. Someone with way better taste than me picked it," I continued, smiling. "We don't even have to talk on the way. Just think of me as your chauffeur," I quickly added.
Kat, who had been shaking her head slightly in annoyance during my little speech, stopped at my last words, lowering her head in exasperation, clenching her fists.
"Come on, you pick the music," I said, noticing that I was about to convince her, finally making her turn on her heel and open the car door with force.
"Obviously, I have better taste than you," Kat said arrogantly, opening the glove compartment and sorting through the CDs.
"Told you," I said with a grin as I drove away from the school.
During the ride to Kat's house, apart from the music, nothing could be heard inside the car.
"Why are you mad at me?" I asked, unable to help myself, breaking my promise. This made Kat groan in frustration as she tried to turn up the volume on the radio. "No," I said, stopping her hand from turning it up. "Let's talk. I'm tired of my friends not talking to me," I added seriously.
Sighing, Kat shook her head in exasperation, turning her face toward the car window.
"There's nowhere to go. You're stuck with me, so you might as well talk," I insisted, keeping my eyes on the road.
Time passed, and I still didn't get any response from Kat.
"Come on, talk to me," I said, tired of waiting. "I thought we were friends," I said, trying to appeal to her empathy with exaggerated sadness.
"Friends," Kat muttered angrily, "just friends," she said, raising her voice in frustration. "And only that, nothing more," she practically shouted at me, clearly furious.
Oh.
"I'm sorry, I had no idea–" I began to say.
"Of course you had no idea, you blind idiot," Kat said, hitting my shoulder. "Why would you? We only talked every day, hung out together, and you were funny. How would you have any clue?" she continued, still hitting me. "Even my dad invited you to dinner. For a moment, I thought he knew and was doing it for me, but no, of course not."
"I'm sorry, please, I'm driving," I pleaded, trying to shield myself from her weak punches while keeping my eyes on the road.
"Of course you're sorry, you damn knight in shining armor. Obviously, the great PJ Duncan is a goody two-shoes," Kat said sarcastically, still annoyed, crossing her arms.
"I am not a goody two-shoes," I replied, feigning offense after she fell silent. "Just so you know, I was involved in a fight," I added, trying to suppress a smile, at least getting Kat to scoff slightly, if only for a moment, before turning back to the window. From the movement of her shoulders, it seemed like she was crying.
I had no idea what to do. Kat was a great friend, obviously beautiful, but to me, nothing more than a friend.
"I'm really sorry, Kat," I said, holding my hand in the air, about to pat her shoulder. "I never meant to give you the wrong idea," I continued.
"I know," Kat murmured, her voice slightly nasal. "It's my fault for getting my hopes up. You're nice to everyone," she sighed. "I just thought... I don't know," she said, shaking her head in disappointment.
"Kat, you're beautiful," I said seriously.
"Shut up. I don't need your pity," Kat said sarcastically, scoffing.
"No, I mean it," I replied, glancing at her seriously before quickly returning my attention to the road. "I'm sure I'm not the only one who notices, and I bet you a collection of CDs that someone else will notice soon."
"Why are you like this?" Kat asked exasperatedly, raising her hands. "Be like any other guy. Just reject me and brag to your friends. Don't be so nice," she said, punching my shoulder again, annoyed.
"I would never do that. You're my friend," I said, once again shielding myself from her disorganized punches.
"Idiot," Kat said, finally stopping her punches, laughing with some tears in her eyes. Leaning forward, she started looking through the songs until she apparently found the one she was looking for, beginning to sing at the top of her lungs.
Amused, I followed Kat's lead, singing the few parts of the song I knew, while just mumbling the rest.
When we arrived at Kat's house, there was an awkward moment of silence before my friend gave me a small smile and nodded. "See you tomorrow, goody two-shoes," she said before opening the door and heading toward her house.
"I'm not a goody two-shoes!" I yelled through the window, laughing as I drove out of her street.
---
Author Thoughts:
As always, I'm not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.
Another chapter has passed, so new thanks are in order. I would like to especially thank:
RandomPasserby96
11332223
keyakedo
With that said,
I think that's all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I'll correct them immediately.
Thank you for reading! :D
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