Note:
My exams are almost over, meanwhile, here's a short chapter.
Enjoy.
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Carefully sitting down on the floor, Coach Cooper kept his hand on my shoulder, examining my face and hands before nodding slightly. "Stay here, I'm going to check on them," he said, motioning towards the cafeteria. He nodded once more before quickly running back to the place we had just come from.
Surprisingly, alone on the school hallway floor, I managed to calm my mind enough to check my hands, inspecting each finger and knuckle. Fortunately, none were broken. Only my skin had suffered, and I was sure I'd need a cold compress to avoid swelling.
Clenching my fists tightly, feeling the pain, I also closed my eyes. With deep breaths, I tried to relax my mind and slow the pounding of my heart. I still had a lot of adrenaline in my system.
"It's time, son. Let's get moving," after what felt like I don't know how long, Coach Cooper said seriously as he came up beside me.
"Yeah, sure," I replied nervously, carefully standing up. "What's going to happen now?" I asked as we walked, lowering my head slightly. I had never really been in trouble before, much less in a fight, so I had no idea what to expect.
"I don't know, son," Coach Cooper answered seriously, bowing his head with concern. I panicked immediately, trying to remember the end of the fight. I couldn't recall seeing any signs of brain damage, but again, with so much adrenaline in my system, I really couldn't be sure.
"Did Smith, uhm—" I tried to ask nervously.
"Oh no, he's— they're... fine," Coach Cooper interrupted quickly, realizing how ominous his response sounded. "As fine as they can be after what you did, I mean. Johnson was just there, still crying," he added, strangely proud and amused. A moment later, realizing his position and how he should behave, he quickly changed his expression to something more serious.
"What about Brock?" I asked, relieved that I hadn't committed manslaughter, but remembering the reason behind the whole incident. I asked about my friend.
"He's locked in the locker room. Coach Wilkins is watching over him right now, waiting for his parents to arrive," Coach Cooper answered, sounding somewhat disappointed. "Listen, son, I really shouldn't be telling you this—I don't know the whole story—but I know you, and I want you to know I'm in your corner, all right?" He murmured while patting my shoulder, making sure no one was close enough to hear.
"Yeah, thanks," I replied, not really sure what else to say.
Nodding with some apprehension, Coach Cooper patted my shoulder one more time before opening the door to the school administration office. "Wait here," he added, pointing to a chair in front of the secretary's desk before heading into what I assumed was Principal Petersen's office.
I nodded to Coach and took a seat, receiving a small smile from the secretary. "Are you okay, honey?" she asked, noticing my hands.
"Yeah," I replied, clenching my fists again.
A little while later, Coach Cooper came out of the office, nodding at me slightly before leaving.
"He's ready for you, honey," a few minutes after Coach Cooper had left, the secretary said sweetly.
"Thanks," I muttered, walking into the office.
"PJ, please close the door," Principal Petersen said seriously as soon as he saw me, seated behind his desk.
After closing the door, the man calmly gestured to one of the empty chairs in front of his desk. "So…" Principal Petersen began slowly, clasping his hands in front of his face, apparently trying to figure out what to say.
His hesitation made me even more nervous. I realized I didn't like waiting for… punishment? Especially when I didn't regret anything I had done.
"I don't know what to do, son," Principal Petersen finally said, throwing his hands up in frustration and shifting in his chair. "You're one of my best students," he continued, rubbing his head in exasperation. "You're like Cooper, but less… you know, Cooper."
"Wha—" I began, not really understanding what was going on.
"I mean, great academic performance, all your teachers adore you, hell, there's an article about your medical achievements even though you're just a freshman in high school, and most importantly, you're a great athlete! You could win us the nationals!" Principal Petersen declared, throwing his hands up. "And now I'm supposed to punish you? For what? Defending one of your friends," he added, lowering his head. "Everyone knows Smith and Johnson are trouble," he explained, "but don't tell anyone I said that," he quickly added, trying to recover his serious tone.
I didn't know what to expect in my first trip to the principal's office, but what was happening now was definitely not what I had imagined.
"And people say their jobs are tough… This, this is hard," Principal Petersen exclaimed after a moment, rubbing his chin as he leaned on his desk. "Tell me, son, what am I supposed to do? If I don't do anything, the school could be sued," he added nervously.
"Detention?" I suggested uncertainly. "Maybe community service. I can always help the nurse," I added, seeing Principal Petersen nodding.
"Yeah, yeah, great. Maybe three—no! Two weeks of detention and community service," he said quickly, pointing at me, grateful. "Perfect!" He clapped his hands, standing up. "But I still need to talk to your parents, the Kingmans, and also the Smiths and the Johnsons," he added tiredly, rubbing his face with his hands. "Just wait outside and please don't fight anyone, at least for a couple of days."
"Sure," I replied, still unsure how to react to the situation. Slowly, I stood up and walked out of the office. I was pretty sure this wasn't how things were supposed to go, but I wasn't about to complain.
Quietly nodding once again to the secretary, I took a seat in one of the empty chairs and watched as she smiled kindly before continuing her work.
Lost in thought, staring at my shoes to kill time, I waited. At some point, someone brought my backpack, and I didn't even notice. Time passed until finally, from the school's main hallway, a woman, accompanied by Mr. Kingman, entered the room. Both looked completely serious, if not furious. The woman ignored the secretary entirely, walking straight to Principal Petersen's office, not without glancing at me for just a fraction of a second.
I was embarrassed to even face the woman. I hadn't done anything to end up in this situation, but… I hadn't done enough either.
Mr. Kingman, clearly recognizing me and noticing my still bruised and bloody knuckles, gave me a barely perceptible nod before following what I was sure was his wife into the office.
The door that separated the three adults from the secretary and me slammed shut, and a moment later, muffled angry shouts filled the room, breaking the previous silence. With a long sigh, the secretary continued her work, turning on a small portable radio on her desk to drown out any noise from the office with music, apparently accustomed to this kind of scene.
Not long after, just minutes later, the office door opened once again. Mrs. Kingman was the first to come out, still frowning, her gaze focused entirely on me. She began to walk slowly towards me.
Nervous, having already witnessed the woman's fury, I stood up slowly, unsure of what to say or do.
"Fighting is wrong," the woman said angrily as she got close enough, "but thanks, really, thank you for being Joey's friend," she added, suddenly pulling me into a tight hug.
"No, don't, I—" I tried to say, embarrassed after overcoming the shock of Mrs. Kingman's sudden action. I hadn't been the best of friends; I hadn't helped as much as I should have, at least not in time.
"Please, PJ, don't abandon Joe. I know things have been tough lately, and now I understand why," she said, ironically, ignoring anything I wanted to say as she let go of the hug. "But I know you're his friend, a real one, so please, don't give up on him," she added, keeping her hands on my shoulders.
"I wasn't planning to," I mumbled, still embarrassed by my lack of action over the past few days.
"Thank you," she said sweetly, smiling. "And do not fight. That's stupid," she warned, frowning again before walking back to Mr. Kingman, who, just like before entering the office, simply nodded at me with a smile before leaving with his wife.
Shortly after, my parents arrived, and after a brief conversation with Principal Petersen, they came out of the office and sat next to me in the empty chairs. "I—" I tried to say, only to be silenced by a wave of my mother's hand.
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"Don't," she ordered, without even looking at me, resting her hand on her visibly pregnant belly, clearly furious.
Bob, sitting next to her, winked at me, smiling slightly, silently reassuring me, though the moment he noticed the smallest movement from Mom, he changed his attitude, putting on a completely serious mask, imitating Mom's expression, and definitely not reassuring.
In complete silence, since even the academic secretary seemed too uncomfortable
to try to talk, we waited in the chairs.
"At least go clean your hands," after a while, Mom finally said suddenly.
I hadn't really paid attention, but Mom was right. With both my own blood from the cuts on my knuckles and Smith's blood, my hands were completely dirty.
Without saying anything, I left the room and headed to the nearest bathroom. Luckily, lunch had ended a few minutes ago, and classes had resumed, leaving the hallway practically empty.
As I opened the door to the nearest bathroom, the smell of cigarettes immediately hit me. I absolutely hated the smell.
Three other students were inside the bathroom. When they heard the door, they quickly hid their cigarettes, as if that could get rid of the awful odor. Realizing I wasn't a teacher, they quickly relaxed.
Ignoring them, I approached the sink and started washing my hands, watching as the blood washed away. From my peripheral vision, I noticed the other students walking near me, surprising me.
"Whoa, calm down," one of the three said, raising his hand when I turned around quickly, stepping back with his two friends.
"We're just going out," another one of them said, pointing to the bathroom door. "We don't want any trouble."
"Wha— yeah, sure, get out," I said incredulously, noticing the fear on their faces.
I wasn't crazy, I wasn't about to start hitting people just because.
With my hands clean, now visibly red, I could see they were starting to swell. I needed a cold compress and some anti-inflammatories.
When I returned to the administration office, my parents were no longer there, but I could still hear them—at least, I could hear Mom.
Even though the secretary had the music turned up, apparently at full volume, I could still hear my mother's angry shouts coming from inside the room. Another woman's voice was shouting alongside her, clearly arguing.
Silently, with her eyes wide open staring at me, the secretary slowly shook her head. Grateful to the woman, I silently took a seat, terrified at the thought that either of the two loud women could 'sense' my presence.
Surprisingly, the shouting continued for minutes. It was impressive how many insults, one after the other, the two women could throw at each other, even knowing that many.
Suddenly, the shouting stopped, and the door was slammed open. Mom, along with Bob, followed by another couple of adults and another man, walked out of Principal Petersen's office.
"We're leaving," avoiding looking at me, Mom furiously ordered, while Bob, behind her, silently begged me to quickly get to my feet.
"Is this the delinquent who attacked my baby?" the other woman present, still shouting without apparent irritation in her voice, asked.
"Baby?" I asked, incredulous and slightly amused, making the woman, noticing my smile, huff in utter annoyance.
"Honey, please don't start again," the man accompanying the woman practically begged.
"John, shut up," the woman ordered, raising her hand without looking at the man, making him step back in fear. For a second, I noticed him wiping away a tear before it could escape his eye.
"Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, I assume," I muttered, also noticing the other man present, who seemed completely disinterested and disgusted, but strangely, unlike the other couple, not angry with me. Despite having a bulging abdomen, the man looked like he had trained enough to still appear muscular. Knowing what Alan had told me, it was obvious this was Mr. Smith, a former professional boxer.
"Don't talk to my son, you bitch," Mom suddenly snapped, brusquely pulling me by the shoulder, guiding me forcefully out of the room, ignoring Mrs. Johnson's shouts behind us.
"What happ—" Once Mom released my arm, I tried to ask, but with a nervous and quick glance, Bob silenced me.
"Give me your keys," Mom suddenly said as we were about to leave the school.
"Wha—" I tried to say, incredulous once again.
"Keys," Mom ordered sternly, extending her hand.
Silently, Bob once again begged me to follow her orders, which I reluctantly did.
"Go with your father," once outside the school, separating from us on the way to my car, Mom ordered.
"What happened?" Once Mom was far enough away, I asked Bob.
"Shh, she might still hear us," Bob said worriedly, walking faster to his awful truck. "First, I want you to know I'm with your mother. Violence should never be the solution to any conflict," Bob said as we reached his truck and got inside. "But that aside, I'm incredibly proud of you," he added, quickly scanning for any sign of my mom. "Defending someone, even if it's a friend, is one of the noblest acts there is," Bob continued, smiling proudly as he saw Mom driving away from the parking lot in my car.
It hadn't been noble at all.
"Your mother's very upset, but Principal Petersen explained the situation, so you just have to wait for her to calm down," Bob said calmly, watching my car leave the parking lot. "Apparently, by kicking those two's asses, you did something everyone wanted, because George told the principal that many students were talking in your favor. Obviously, everyone saw what they did to poor Brock," he continued.
"Yeah, that doesn't help Brock at all," I said ironically, upset with myself.
"Maybe the fight doesn't help him, but the reason behind it does," Bob said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "You did it because he's your friend, and that's all he needs to get through this," he added. "Two against one, and one of them ended up on the ground crying," Bob said, pausing for a moment before bursting into sudden laughter. "Come on, tell me how it happened."
On the way home, I told Bob what I remembered about the fight, and he seemed increasingly amused by the situation.
"He just stayed on the ground crying?" Bob asked, now laughing almost hysterically.
"Yeah," I said, unable to help but laugh along with him. "Then Coach Cooper picked me up off the floor and took me out of the cafeteria," I finished my story, making Bob nod.
"I'm going to buy him a beer," Bob declared seriously, though maintaining a small smile. "You know, thanks to him explaining everything to Principal Petersen, your punishment was just detention and service. That's what started the fight," Bob suddenly remembered. "You should've seen your mother, holding her belly while pointing and shouting at the other woman. If a fight had broken out, your mom would've won in a heartbeat."
"I believe it. I didn't need to see it to know what was going on in there," I said sarcastically, recalling the shouting. "I just hope it's over by the time we get home," I added nervously.
Bob snorted loudly, trying to hold back a laugh. "Oh, son, I'm sorry, but that's not going to happen. I know your mother, and you're in for possibly even worse shouting when we get home," he added.
Bob's words only managed to make my nerves come back. I definitely didn't like knowing someone could punish me.
When we got home, 'Debbie' was parked in the driveway. Taking several deep breaths, I gathered enough courage to open the door.
Mom was waiting, sitting on one of the living room couches. The moment she saw me, she frowned, standing up slowly, pressing her lips together, ready to start yelling—and suddenly, she began.
To cry.
"I was so worried when they called the house," Mom said through tears, holding her abdomen, sounding completely devastated. "My PJ, in a fight, it was urgent," she continued, sobbing.
Not knowing what to do, I looked to Bob for help, but unfortunately, he seemed more surprised than I was. So much for knowing Mom. This was way worse than getting yelled at.
"Mom, please," I said nervously as I approached her, trying to get her to stop crying.
"Shut up, you fool!" Mom suddenly shouted, raising her hand despite still crying.
No, this was definitely worse.
"I knew it was a bad idea for you to learn how to fight, but I was blinded by your obvious interest. Besides, if you don't learn to defend yourself, you might get beaten up again," Mom continued, talking more to herself now. "So, I let it slide. Case seems like a great man to learn from, but hitting someone, whether they deserved it or not, until their nose breaks?" Mom asked, shaking her head in disappointment. "You're never doing that again," she warned me.
"I can't promise that," I declared, interrupting whatever else she had to say. "What I'm learning with Case isn't just to protect myself, it's to protect those I care about too," I added quickly, nodding toward Bob, who, terrified, ignored me, walking out of the room, mumbling some lame excuse.
"Then I forbid you from continuing training with Case," Mom said, still frowning as she briefly watched Bob leave the room.
"That wouldn't change anything; I'd keep doing it," I declared calmly, making Mom sob sadly once more. "The only difference is, the person with the broken nose might be me," I added, noticing how Mom clenched her fists in defeat.
Seeing Mom cry over something I did felt completely wrong.
"I'm sorry, Mom. I got carried away this time. I could've seriously hurt Smith. It won't happen again," I said as I approached her, managing to reach her side, and hugged her. "But if someone attacks me or someone I care about again, I'll fight back," I declared seriously.
"Then you're grounded," Mom said, hugging me tightly. "For a few days, you'll only go to school and come straight home. No going to the hospital until I sign you up as a volunteer again," she added, making me remember all the sponge baths and grossly long nails. "You can keep going to the gym," she added a moment later.
"Thanks," I murmured.
"For what? You're grounded," Mom harshly reminded me.
Obviously exhausted from worrying and having cried, Mom called in sick to the hospital, deciding to stay home and rest.
"Can you pick up your sister? I have to take Gabe to his music lessons," later that day Bob asked as he knocked on my door while I was reading in my room.
"Sure," I replied, removing the cold compresses from my hands. They were slightly red and swollen, but it seemed I had managed to keep it under control, at least a little.
The drive to Teddy's school was relatively short. Upon arriving, dozens of other cars, mostly trucks, were lined up in front of the main building. After several minutes of waiting in line, I finally saw my sister chatting happily with her two friends, and I even spotted Luke, who nervously said goodbye to my sister as he walked past them.
After a few seconds of Teddy not noticing me in the car line, I decided to have some fun. Cranking up the music volume and rolling down the passenger window, I started honking loudly, shouting my sister's name.
Immediately, upon hearing the commotion, her eyes widened in embarrassment, and she turned around.
"Teddy Duncan, it's me, your brother PJ, come on!" I shouted, trying to make my voice heard
over the music, amused, as my sister quickly walked to my car with her friends.
"Turn it down, everyone's staring at us!" Teddy said, hurriedly opening the car door and lowering the volume.
I couldn't help but laugh. "Hi Baja... Bianca," I greeted Teddy's friends. When I saw the last one, I immediately lost my smile, once again feeling like a terrible friend. I had completely forgotten about the issue with Kat, focusing instead on Alan and Brock. "How are you guys?" I asked, forcing a weak smile.
"I'm fine, thanks," Baja, one of Teddy's friends, replied kindly, while Bianca, Kat's sister, just forced a smile. I'm sorry, I promise I'll talk to your sister.
"See you tomorrow, Teddy," a moment later, Teddy's friends said goodbye, allowing us to leave the school.
"Why did you do that?" Teddy asked angrily, hitting my arm once we were far enough from school.
"It's my right as your older brother," I said, still amused, trying to cover myself from her hits.
"Whoa, what happened to your hands?" Teddy suddenly asked, grabbing my free hand to examine it.
"It's not important," I replied, pulling my hand from her grip to change gears.
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Author Thoughts:
As always, I'm not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.
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
PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.