Fighting Shadows

by Aly Martinez

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t think of boxing as something you lost. It’s not like I said, ‘Hey, don’t you miss that feeling when you put on new socks?’ Now that would have been rude.” I shrugged. “Boxing’s still there. Sucks you can’t compete anymore, but punching bags don’t discriminate, do they?”

  Flint opened his mouth to respond but quickly shut it.

  “Anyway. Quarry told me you didn’t go to gym anymore, and I was just curious why you’d quit something you loved.”

  “Jesus, how much has Q been running his mouth?”

  “We’re both talkers.” I smiled. “Look, I wasn’t trying to upset you or anything. Sorry if it came off that way. I’ve just never known anyone who was paralyzed before. It’s kinda cool.”

  He barked out a laugh. “Cool is not exactly the word I would use to describe paralysis.”

  “Well, then maybe you’re using the wrong words.”

  Flint didn’t respond, but he did go back to staring, so I went back to uncomfortably pretending to be enthralled with my fancy sauce. After tearing the packet of mayo open, I drizzled a design over the ketchup and then swirled it together.

  “Here.” Quarry set two milkshakes down on the table.

  Thank God!

  “Dude, that bed at Debbie’s is kicking my ass.” He cracked his neck to the left, and even though I was only watching Flint out of the corner of my eye, I recognized the exact moment he saw it.

  So fast that even I was impressed, Flint snaked a hand out and grabbed the front of Quarry’s shirt, catching him completely off guard. Q toppled forward.

  “What the fuck is that?” Flint boomed, pulling the neck of Quarry’s shirt down to reveal his back.

  “Let me go.” Quarry fought to get on his feet.

  It was magic, really. Flint might have been older, but Quarry definitely had him in size. But even as Q struggled against his grasp, Flint effortlessly pinned him as he inspected his neck and back.

  “Tell me that’s fake. I swear to God, Q. Tell me it’s fake.”

  “It’s fake!” he yelled.

  Flint shook his head but finally released him.

  Quarry straightened his shirt and glanced around the empty restaurant. “Yes. If, by fake, you mean a permanent tattoo, then yes. It’s fake.”

  I giggled as Quarry jumped back a step when Flint’s eyes almost bulged from his head.

  “You’re fourteen!” he hissed through clenched teeth.

  “And?”

  “And nothing . . . You’re fourteen. You can’t get a tattoo.”

  “Well, I didn’t know that, Daddy. Guess I really shouldn’t have gotten two, then.” He took another step away, flashing Flint a mischievous grin.

  I desperately tried to contain my laughter. The last thing I needed was Flint turning that scary gaze on me. I didn’t have the force field Quarry so obviously possessed.

  Flint suddenly rolled forward an inch, and it caused Quarry to flinch. That was it. I lost the battle with my lungs. I slapped a hand over my mouth as a loud laugh escaped.

  Thankfully, Flint didn’t notice—or he at least opted to keep the lasers he was shooting from his eyes from giving me a new haircut.

  “Who the hell would tattoo a fourteen-year-old kid? Christ, Q. You probably have hepatitis now.”

  “Dustin Prince is eighteen, thank you very much.”

  Oh fuck.

  Flint curled his lip. “Who the hell is Dustin Prince?”

  As Quarry pulled his wallet out, I nervously looked around the room for some imaginary backup or, at the very least, an emergency exit door.

  I jumped to my feet. “I’m gonna use the restroom.”

  And then enter the witness protection program.

  Before I had the chance to walk away, Quarry dropped the bomb. “Ash got me a fake ID.”

  Flint swung his angry gaze my way. “Excuse me?”

  “Uhhh . . .” I stalled, lifting my hand to fix my hair and flipping Quarry off in the process. “In my defense, I just thought he was going to buy lottery tickets,” I lied, punctuating it with an innocent grin Flint seemed immune to.

  “Who in God’s name would actually believe he’s eighteen?”

  “Oh, they don’t really care. They just needed the ID to make it look legit. And no hep C, either. The shop is really clean. They owed me a favor, so I made sure they took extra-special care of him,” I tried to explain, but if Flint’s reaction was any indication I had just dug myself even deeper.

  “You. Took. Him?” he asked very slowly.

  “Maybe,” I squeaked and then followed Quarry’s example of backing away.

  “You took a kid to get a tattoo?” He moved toward me.

  “Possibly.” I once again stepped away. I didn’t think I was in any real danger, but judging by the vein bulging on his forehead, his head was very close to exploding—and I didn’t want to be in range when it did. Blood wasn’t my thing.

  “Calm the hell down,” Quarry said, stepping between us. “This kid at school was going to do it for me, but Ash talked me into going to her place instead. You should see the sweet-ass design the guy drew for my back. This is just the start.”

  “I hope it was worth it. You’re gonna look like Mabie when Till finds out.”

  “Nah. He already knows. Slate ratted me out after he saw me in the locker room. I gotta wait until I’m eighteen to finish the rest. It’s Eliza I have to hide it from.” Quarry laughed.

  As if he had been slapped, Flint’s head snapped to the side.

  He stared into space for a few seconds before Quarry sighed and quietly said, “Come on. Don’t be like that.” It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know he wasn’t talking about the tattoo anymore.

  “Whatever.” Flint spun away, leaving an arctic breeze in his wake.

  I looked over at Quarry for answers on what the hell had just happened, but he only offered me an exaggerated eye roll.

  “Let’s go,” Flint bit out as he started loading our trash on the tray. “Ash, you done with your shake?” he asked, sans all attitude.

  “Yeah,” I replied, unbelievably confused. However, if he wanted to act like he hadn’t just plotted mine and Quarry’s deaths a few minutes earlier, I guessed I could do the same.

  I could do normal. I was amazing at normal. It was my forte, really.

  “Hey, would it be okay if I started calling you Wheels?”

  He turned to look at me and quirked an eyebrow.

  “What?” I asked as he closed his eyes and shook his head. “What?” I repeated, but he never answered.

  Instead, he set the tray on his lap and headed toward the trash can.

  ASH POINTED OUT THE PASSENGER side window. “Take a left up here.”

  “Ummm . . . That’s a right,” I corrected, turning down a side street in what appeared to be the slums of downtown Indianapolis.

  After dropping Quarry off at On The Ropes and luckily dodging Till and Slate, Ash had asked if I could drop her off at her friend’s instead of taking her back home. With hopes of also avoiding my mom and Ray, I agreed. However, as I drove deeper into the city, I thought there was a strong possibility Ash was leading me into a gang setup.

  “Where the hell are we going?”

  “Just a little farther. Take your next right.” She pointed across me.

  “And that’s a left,” I mumbled, turning down an alley.

  “Right here! Stop!” she exclaimed.

  “Right where?” I looked around. There wasn’t anything even remotely inhabitable. It was a vacant alley that served no purpose except to connect two busy streets.

  With the exception of two bums leaning against the building, there wasn’t a soul in sight.

  “Right there.” She slung her seat belt off and jumped from the car. “Hey!”

  “How’s it going, babe?” a gray-haired man replied.

  “Get in the car, Ash,” I called as the obviously homeless woman in dirty and tattered clothing stood up and walked toward her.

 
; “You little tramp!” the woman said.

  “Oh, shut up!” Ash yelled back.

  I had no idea what the fuck was going on, but I didn’t like it.

  “Ash, get back in the goddamn car.”

  “What?” She turned to look at me, but the woman continued getting closer, and this time, her murderous gaze was aimed at me.

  “Who the hell do you think you are talking to like that?” the woman snapped, and the man behind her pushed to his feet.

  “Fuck,” I hissed. “Look, we don’t want any trouble,” I told the woman, but my eyes were focused on the man. He might have been older, but as he strode toward the car, I realized he was also huge. “Ash, get the fuck in the car.”

  “Why? What’s wrong?” she answered, leaning back into the van with her upper body.

  She was insane, I knew that much, but she was also apparently fearless. I, however, had no way to protect her, and judging by the faces closing in on us, I was going to need to do just that.

  Reaching out, I grabbed her wrist and yanked her back into the van.

  “What the hell?” she yelled.

  The man sprinted forward, capturing her around the waist and pulling her out of my grasp. My eyes went wide, and panic settled in my chest. I scrambled across the passenger seat after her, but my legs got stuck behind me and I fell out of the door, crashing to the pavement face first.

  “Flint!” Ash yelled, but the man never released her.

  I pushed myself upright so I could at least use my arms as defense, but with the exception of Ash’s flailing to get free, no one moved.

  “Max, put me down. He’s my friend.”

  “Not touching you like that, he’s not.”

  “Jesus Christ. Put me down. He’s paralyzed. I need to make sure he’s okay.”

  I wasn’t sure what was worse: the fact that I was helplessly sitting on the ground while watching a stranger manhandle her or the fact that I was so weak and pathetic that she was worried about me while it happened.

  “Damn it, put me down!” she shrieked.

  The man finally relented.

  After rushing forward, she dropped to her knees in front of me. “Oh my God. Are you okay?”

  “We need to get out of here,” I declared, watching the man and woman step even closer behind her.

  “Flint, these are my friends, Max and Donna.” She turned around to address them. “Back up. He’s not going to hurt me.”

  Neither seemed convinced, but they did take a single step away.

  “I don’t care who they are. We’re leaving.” I started scooting toward the passenger’s door, but the idea of actually pulling myself up and into the van from the ground was daunting.

  “Just hang on,” Ash called, seeming to read my mind—or, more likely, my fear-filled expression.

  After opening the sliding back door, she dragged my wheelchair out and pushed it in front of me. A rush of relief filtered through me. I’d never been so happy to see that damn thing in my life.

  “You need help?” she asked.

  “No, I don’t need any fucking help,” I snapped for absolutely no reason other than that my pride had suffered a serious hit.

  “Oh hell no,” Donna voiced behind us, causing Ash to roll her eyes.

  “Can you two give us a minute? I promise I’m fine. You can watch me from over there.” She pointed to where they had been previously situated against the wall.

  “Ash,” the man started.

  “Please, Max,” she whined.

  His face softened. “All right.” He tugged on the woman’s arm and began leading her back to the wall.

  Ash turned her attention to me. “Just let me help you.”

  “I’ve got it,” I said roughly as I hoisted myself up to the floorboard of van and then transferred myself back into my chair. It wasn’t easy, but I had an audience, so I did my best not to look like a bumbling idiot.

  “Get in the car,” I ordered, rolling myself around to the driver’s side.

  “What? I’m not leaving.”

  “Yes, you are,” I called out, dropping my chin to my chest as soon as I was blocked by the van. My hands shook as I pinched the bridge of my nose. I tried to get my pulse under control as the adrenaline left my body. God, I was such a fucking mess, and of course, Ash picked that exact moment to round the bumper.

  “Hey, are you okay?” she asked, walking over and stopping in front of me.

  “Can you stop fucking asking me that?”

  She arched an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side with sudden attitude. “Can you start answering the question?”

  I let out a resigned sigh. I desperately needed the entire fucking day to be over. I couldn’t take much more, and I needed to reset my mind and body in the solitude of my apartment.

  “Look, please just let me take you home. I can’t leave you here. I’m sure you think those two are your friends, but there is no possible way I can leave you in a dark alley with two homeless people. It’s dangerous.”

  She smiled widely. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Maybe. But I can’t in good conscience leave you here.”

  She opened her mouth to reply, but I put my hand up to silence her.

  “Please don’t argue with me, Ash. This has been one hell of a day, and I can’t take it anymore. I’ll be really honest here: If I don’t get home soon, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

  Her smile widened.

  Fantastic.

  “Can we go tell Max and Donna goodbye?”

  I blew out a breath. Thank God! At least she was rational.

  “Yeah, go ahead.”

  “No. Come with me. I’m pretty sure they don’t trust you any more than you do them. They’re my best friends. I don’t want them to worry.” Her smile stretched even wider.

  What the actual fuck is she smiling about?

  “How the hell did you end up being friends with two middle-aged bums?” I asked incredulously. “You need to be more careful before you end up dead in a ditch somewhere.”

  “You’re doing it again.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Judging people and casting stereotypes.” She reached her foot out and pointedly tapped one of my wheels.

  “I’m not judging them,” I defended, but even I knew that it was in vain.

  “Yeah, you are. They’re good people, Wheels.”

  My mouth dropped open at her actual use of the nickname.

  “Difficult circumstances. But still good people.”

  “Wow,” I responded, unimpressed. Or maybe I was crazy impressed at her flagrant insensitivity. Or maybe I was just annoyed at myself for not being able to join her as she burst out laughing at my reaction.

  Instead, I lectured. “That may be true, but how well do you really know them? Ash, you can’t go through life trusting everyone.”

  “Well, maybe you can’t. But I can. I know there are bad people in the world. To some, I’m probably one of them.” She reached into her pocket and pulled my wallet out, tossing it onto my lap. “We all deserve friends though.” She shrugged.

  “Stop stealing my fucking wallet.”

  But instead of returning my attitude, her face gentled and her eyes lit. “Thanks for trying to rescue me back there.”

  “Yeah,” I scoffed. “Lot of help I would have been.”

  “You never know. Maybe just the trying helped the most.” She looked down at her foot, which was drawing circles in the dirt.

  I was annoyed.

  Embarrassed.

  Frustrated.

  Exhausted.

  But that was erased when she lifted her head up with a shy smile I didn’t recognize at all. I’d known Ash Mabie for exactly two hours, but I was stunned into silence by the vulnerability on her creamy-white face. It shouldn’t have been there. Mainly because it ruined every other smile she would ever be able to produce. That smile belonged there permanently.

  However, just as quickly as it had appeared, it disappeared.

&nbs
p; But I’d seen it.

  God, did I see it.

  Her typical wide grin replaced it, and even though she was still gorgeous, nothing could top that single second where she’d showed me something truly indescribable.

  She’d showed me the real Ash Mabie.

  And she is beautiful.

  “Sooooo . . . ?” she questioned, nodding back toward Max and Donna.

  “Okay,” I huffed. “Let’s go meet your friends.”

  One week later . . .

  Unknown: What’s your address?

  Me: Who is this?

  Unknown: It’s an emergency.

  Me: So I’ll repeat. Who. Is. This?

  Unknown: It’s Ash. Quarry and I were out at the movies and suddenly he can’t hear anything.

  Sitting straight up in bed, I tossed my book to the nightstand and shifted into my chair, which was parked beside the bed. The genetic condition Till and Quarry shared was supposed to be degenerative, but this was exactly what had happened with Till. One day, he could hear, and an hour later, it was gone.

  My heart began to race at the instant replay that was unfolding in front of me.

  Me: Take him to the hospital. Now!

  Ash: He says no hospital. He just wants to come to your house.

  Me: I don’t care what he says. Take him to a hospital.

  Ash: Just let me bring him to you. He’s trying to sign stuff but I don’t know sign language.

  Ash: Please Flint. I’m scared.

  Me: All right, all right. Bring him here. 121 Broad Dr. Apt 113. Show it to Q. He’ll know how to get here. I’ll see you in a few.

  Ash: K

  I dropped my phone on the bed and then pulled a pair of shorts on over my boxers.

  For several minutes, I stared blankly at my phone. I needed to call Till, but just the thought knotted my stomach. I hadn’t spoken to him in months, and Quarry going deaf was the news I had to deliver? Fuck.

  I couldn’t waste any more time though. Clicking his name, I prayed for a miracle that he wouldn’t pick up and I could leave a message.

  Such was my luck, he answered on the first ring.

  “Flint?”

  “Quarry can’t hear anything,” I rushed out, not bothering with pleasantries.