I moved in and struck Ray in the shin with a quick kick. He didn’t even flinch, instead he seized the opportunity while I was close to grab my left arm, pull me in, and deliver a massive blow to my left eye.
I let out a grunt. It hurt, but adrenaline kept me going.
I tried jabbing him in the face, but he brushed away my punches. He took the opening to slug me in the nose. I brought up my hands to defend my injured face. He pushed me away from him, causing me to stumble to one knee.
Just before Ray charged again, my sister Sarah pushed him from behind, catching him off guard. I’m grateful my sister was still mostly tomboy. Ray turned his attention on her and pushed her to the ground.
I felt an unusual burning in my gut. Nobody messes with my little sister, except me! I bolted towards Ray as he was turning around, and I did what came naturally. I slid to the ground on my left side with my left leg behind, and my right leg extended. It was the hardest, soccer-style slide tackle I’d ever done. Ray’s legs buckled and his back and head made a loud thud on the grass.
I got up and said, “They don’t teach you that in football practice, do they, Ray?”
Before I had the chance to watch Ray writhe in pain, someone slammed into me from behind, grinding my face into the ground. I saw a few stars and could taste grass and blood in my mouth. Doug had tackled me, Ray’s best friend. He jumped up and pulled Ray to his feet.
Ray spat. “Stay down, Stoner!” He kicked me in the stomach just as I was about to get up. The pain was miserable, causing me to curl up in a ball, unable to breathe.
“Break it up!” A loud voice approached. I could hear students scattering, avoiding being selected as witnesses. “Simmons! What do you think you’re doing?” The voice belonged to Coach Jones, the high school P.E. teacher and Head Coach of the football team.
I still remained on the ground in fetal position. My whole body throbbed in pain. I glanced up to see Coach Jones standing between me and Ray.
Ray sniffed and said, “What’s up, Coach? ‘Bout time you got here.”
Chapter 2
Ray
I was in a pretty good mood, even though I was in the principal’s office. It’d been a while since Stoner and I last fought. Like last semester maybe? It felt great to win again!
Mr. Call, the principal, tapped his fingers on his desk. He had a round face and a permanent frown. At least whenever he’d looked at me in the past, all I’d ever seen was a frown. Figures. He looked especially irritated now as he thought about what to do with the loser, Michael Stone—whom I’ve proudly nicknamed Stoner—and me.
The afternoon sunlight seeped between the blinds of the office window, setting a dreary mood in the room. Or was it Mr. Call’s frown that made the room dreary? Anyway, I was ready to get this done with and get out of here. I had better things to do, like sleeping through Mr. Thompson’s history class.
“Young men,” Mr. Call said, lacing his fingers together in front of him. “Fighting is terrible behavior. It is the worst way to resolve conflict. Physical contact is never the answer. Blah, blah, blah … lecture, lecture, lecture.”
Okay, so I may have zoned out during that last part of his spiel. I’d heard it all before.
“Mr. Call,” I interrupted casually. “I was just defending myself. Stoner attacked me out of nowhere. I don’t know what his problem is.”
“He’s lying!” Michael yelled. He sat in the chair next to me, and I’ve got to say, he didn’t look so good. I’d definitely left my mark on him. He deserved it.
His left eye was already swollen shut. He had a tissue up his nose to keep it from bleeding. He hugged his ribs with one arm as if they were broken. I may have gone too far with the kicking… oh well.
Stoner always had a knack of making my life miserable. He just always seemed to be in the way. We were both popular, both athletic, and we hated each other’s guts for as long as I can remember. This school just wasn’t big enough for the both of us. This wasn’t our first fight, but it may have been the worst.
“I didn’t attack Ray!” Stoner whimpered. “He was bullying my little sister Sarah again. I tried to stop him, and that’s when he came in swinging.”
Mr. Call massaged one of his eyebrows as if he were suffering from a migraine. “I can’t believe we’re doing this with you two again! Both of you have different stories. So, one of you must be lying. Since I can’t tell who’s telling the truth, and I don’t have the patience to investigate it further, I’m going to suspend both of you from all extracurricular activities for a month!”
My eyes widened. “What?”
Stoner gasped. “You mean we can’t play sports for a month?”
Mr. Call nodded. “We take fighting very seriously here at Sahuaro High School. My hope is this suspension will teach you a lesson to never fight again.”
“But I didn’t do anything wrong!” Stoner said.
“I can’t verify that,” Mr. Call stated.
“Our first game is this Friday!” I said. “I’m the starting quarterback!”
“Looks like you’ll be sitting the bench for a month.”
Stoner looked at the floor and shook his head. “I can’t believe it.”
Neither could I. I was no longer in a good mood. I had to do something about this! I stood up and ran to open the office door.
“What do you think you’re doing Mr. Simmons?” Mr. Call asked.
I ignored him. Outside the office, standing in the hallway, was the exact person I was looking for. “Coach Jones!” I said. “Come in here. I need your help.”
Coach Jones looked up from under the baseball cap he always wore and hurried inside the office. He wore sports shorts and a whistle around his neck. After he came in, I turned to Mr. Call. “Coach Jones saw the whole thing. He can tell you that I was just defending myself in the fight, and that I don’t deserve a month-long suspension from football!” I emphasized the last part mostly for Coach Jones’ benefit. His eyebrows rose.
Mr. Call exhaled, and rubbed his eyebrow again. “Dan, I didn’t want to involve you in this, but I guess you were the only teacher who saw the fight. Both Michael and Ray claim that they were just defending themselves from the other, but what did you see?”
Coach Jones stole a quick glance at me. I knew what he was thinking. He was considering the possibility that he could lose his starting quarterback for a month. Our backup quarterback was terrible. The team would likely lose without me, and Coach Jones hated to lose. He needed to make sure I could still play. At least I hoped that’s what he was thinking.
“I saw the entire fight and got there just in time to break it up,” Coach Jones said in a deep voice. “Ray’s right, he was just defending himself. Michael was the one doing all the fighting.”
Inside my head I did a double fist pump and a few backflips. Go coach! Way to back me up!
“What are you talking about?” Stoner said in his wimpy voice to Coach. “You saw him kicking me on the ground—”
“I saw Ray defending himself!” Coach said matter-of-factly. “You’re lucky I’m not your coach, son. I’d have you running laps till sundown!”
Stoner looked stunned and confused for a moment, and then turned to the Principal. “He’s lying, Mr. Call! He just wants Ray to be eligible to play in the football game this Friday! Ask any other student who saw the fight! They’ll tell you that Ray—”
“You calling me a liar, boy?” Coach Jones stood up and glared down at Stoner with venom in his eyes. Stoner shrunk in his seat, obviously intimidated. I squirmed, trying to contain my laughter.
“Michael,” Mr. Call said. “I trust Coach Jones more than anyone else on campus. If he says you were the one who started the fight, then that’s how it happened. You both get a week of detention for fighting, but you, Michael, get the suspension from soccer for starting it.”
Stoner began to stutter. “But…but that’s…but…”
Mr. Call rolled his eyes. “So how’s our team looking Dan?”
�
��Pretty good,” Coach said, returning to his seat. They went on talking about the football team while I released a few snorts of laughter. Stoner glared at me; I couldn’t tell if he was about to cry or about to bite my ankles. I returned a look that said, That’s right fool! You done been served!
“Well, Mr. Call,” I said. “I’m missing my history class right now, so can I go?”
“Yes,” he said. “You’re both dismissed. Practice hard for the game on Friday, Ray. Bring us home another Cougar victory, son. And Michael, use this suspension to learn something. I don’t want to see any more fights between the two of you.”
“Sounds good.” I stood up to leave.
Stoner slowly followed, fuming as he closed the door behind him. “I can’t believe that just happened!”
“Believe it, Stoner!”
“Stop calling me that, Ray!”
“What are you going to do? Fight me? How has that turned out for you so far?”
He glared at me, his veins bulging.
I laughed as I walked away from the loser. “See you in detention, Stoner!”
Chapter 3
Michael
My bedroom light flipped on, blinding my dreary eyes. “Up and at ‘em, Michael,” Mom said in her usual, perky voice at 7:13 a.m. “I heard your alarm go off the first time at seven. It’s not like you to sleep through your alarm.” She dropped off a basket of clean laundry and left the room.
I struggled to open my eyes. Did my mom really come in or was that a dream? Images of Ray tackling me and me sitting in detention flashed in my mind. Were those dreams too? I yawned and extended each of my limbs into a giant stretch. “Ouch!” I mumbled as a throbbing pain in my stomach zapped me to full consciousness. I sat up and inspected my reflection in the mirror on the wall. My left eye was swollen half shut and the skin surrounding it took on a distinctive, purple hue. I instantly remembered my fight with Ray Simmons. I caressed my nose; it hurt to move, but at least it stopped bleeding. I threw off my covers and leaped to my feet, inhaling sharply as my body screamed at me to slow down. I moaned in pain. This was going to be a long day.
As quickly and painlessly as I could, I showered, put on some clothes, and made my way to the kitchen for breakfast. Dad and Mom were sitting at the table talking about Newel’s Comet—their food still untouched. The rule was to eat meals only together as a family. Dad wore his glasses, a red bow tie, and a plaid shirt with slacks—what he always wore for work. Mom wore a blue casual business dress. They were both college professors. Dad taught the general astronomy classes and Mom taught advanced astronomy classes.
I eased into my chair and noticed Dad gawking at me. “What?” I asked.
He pointed at my face. “So, this is from the fight your Mom told me about last night, huh?” I frowned and nodded. “Did you start the fight?” I shook my head. “Did you finish the fight?” I shook my head again. “Did you fight back at all?”
“Yeah,” I said while looking at the table. “I hit him and kicked him a few times.”
“His name is Ray Simmons, the quarterback,” Mom told Dad. “The boy Michael has been fighting with since fifth grade.”
“Oh, were you fighting for a good cause?” Dad asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “Ray was picking on Sarah, so I told him to back off. Then he blew up in my face and started punching me.”
“Then good job, son,” Dad said. “You did the right thing.”
Mom gasped, glared at Dad, and turned back at me. “You didn’t just tell him to back off, did you, Michael? You told me you shoved Ray away from Sarah.”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I guess I did.”
“Then technically you started the fight.” She turned back to Dad. “Don’t encourage our son to start more fights, John.”
“Bah! That’s exactly what I’ll do!” Dad said with a confident smile. He placed his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes. “Michael, if there is a just and worthy cause, then fight! Start the fight and finish the fight. Don’t wait for them to hurt you or anyone else. Stop them before they can. Don’t let them walk all over you. This world needs more people who fight for what’s right before the wrong thing happens.”
A grin crept onto my face.
Mom rolled her eyes at Dad and looked at me. “He’s talking about fighting figuratively, son. You don’t need to actually push or punch anybody. Once you turn eighteen you can fight by voting.”
“No,” Dad corrected. “I meant fighting literally. Remember 9/11? Flight 93? If they didn’t fight to stop the hijackers, then they would’ve hit the Whitehouse.”
“That’s different than a school fight, John”
“Not so much. When I was a kid I wish I would’ve actually done something with all the bullies that—”
“Good morning,” Sarah mumbled. My little sister slid into her chair looking barely awake, her blonde hair going in every direction. Without saying anything, she grabbed a waffle and started eating. That was the cue for the rest of us to dig in.
Mom and Dad continued their debate while they ate. They debated about five or six topics a day. They debated science, politics, teaching, cooking, parenting, and whatever new topic came to mind. And they made sure to clarify that they were only debating, not arguing—but that was debatable too.
Sarah glanced up at me and nearly choked on her food while laughing. She pointed at my eye. “Good luck getting a girlfriend with that shiner!” I stabbed a slice of bacon off of her plate and promptly stuffed it into my mouth. “Hey!” Sarah complained.
“Eat your own food!” Mom instructed, mid-debate.
Sarah huffed, glaring at me with her green eyes. I smiled, my mouth full. She looked away. “Mom, Dad, can either of you pick me up after school?” she asked.
“Why can’t Michael drive you home?” Dad said.
“He has to stay an hour later for detention.”
My stomach sunk. I’d forgotten about detention. No soccer. Just an extra hour to do homework at school. This was going to be a long day.
I walked through the school plaza to get to my last class of the day, physical science. I could tell people were glancing, but never staring at my black eye. After they passed by me, I could hear them laughing and joking about how I got beat up yesterday. I took a deep breath and told myself that the day is almost over. One more class, then detention, and then I can go home and hide in my room.
Somebody bumped into me from behind. It was my cousin, Zack Larson. He was about a foot shorter than me with red curly hair and freckles all over. He laughed when he saw me cringe in pain. “How’re you holding up Cuz?” He slapped me on the shoulder and laughed when I cringed again.
“Just barely,” I said.
“No worries,” he said with a smile. “Sure you’ll miss a day or two of practice, but you should be fit to play at our game on Thursday.”
I shook my head. “No man. I got suspended from soccer for a month.”
Zack stopped walking. “What? You’ve got to be joking. You’re our best goalie! What’re we gonna do without you?”
“You can try for goalie.”
“No way, man. I’m not tall enough. Plus it’s gonna suck without you there. You’re my only friend on the team. The rest of the guys hate me.”
“Sorry Cuz.” I started walking to class again.
Zack caught up. “Did Ray get suspended too?”
“Nope.”
“That’s retarded!” He pulled on his backpack. “We should get back at Ray!”
I nodded absently. “The principal is on his side. There’s nothing we can do.”
“Oh there is definitely something we can do!” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a large pocket knife. “Let’s find his car and slash his tires!”
I laughed.
He didn’t.
I stopped walking. “Wait, you’re serious?”
“Yeah!” Zack said, looking surprised that I wasn’t. “He’s picked on enough people and gotten away with it! It’s about time he gets
what he deserves!”
“No way! That’s dropping to his level; besides, it’s illegal. What if we got caught?”
“We won’t. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done it.”
I raised an eyebrow. Sometimes I wondered if I really knew my cousin at all. We grew up together and hung out a lot, but were never what I would call best friends. “Forget it, Zack. We’re not slashing Ray’s tires. You shouldn’t have a knife at school anyways, it’s against the rules.”
Zack rolled his eyes. “C’mon Michael. You care too much about rules.”
“And you care too little.”
Zack and I split up. He went to Spanish while I went to physical science. Fortunately there were a couple of empty desks at the back of the classroom. As I walked in, it felt like everyone was staring at my bruised face. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Alex Reyes using his hands to reenact Ray tackling me. Several girls were whispering to each other, staring at me and giggling. I got to my desk and slunk into my seat.
The guy in the desk in front of me turned around. It was Chase Whipple, a friend of mine from the soccer team. “Hey, Michael. I heard about the fight,” he said sympathetically. “Heard you got suspended too.”
I nodded.
“That sucks,” he said. “So, just so you know… Coach made me team captain while you’re gone.”
“Great, you deserve it.” I said honestly while fighting back tears.
“We’ll still need you for next month’s games,” Chase said. “Keep on coming to practices after detention.”
“Okay,” I said without feeling very committed. I pulled out my phone just to look at it.
He could tell I wasn’t in the mood to talk about soccer, so he changed the subject. “So, have you seen the new girl yet?”
“No.”
“Well, I saw her in my first class today, and whew—she could model for a living!”
I chuckled. “So did you ask for her number?”
“No man, I chickened out! I’m planning on it though. I just—oh dude that’s her!”
Orion: A Heroic Novel Page 2