Judge by the Cover_High School, Drama & Deadly Vices

by Melissa Abigail

  “Son of a—”

  The next word stuck in his throat as he felt someone tackle him from behind for the second time, like he was the quarterback in a football game he didn’t even know he was playing.

  “Get—off!” Ryu seethed, his voice muffled. His chin grazed the pave. He wrestled the person off, then saw the tiny sheen of a metal blade. He drew back, but not before he felt the slice through his jeans and saw the red soak through. Ryu’s eyes raged as they locked with Szeto's. So he followed him to finish the job? Couldn’t attract attention with something like a pistol, so he was turning to weapon number two? Ryu lunged. He twisted Szeto's wrist until he was forced to drop the blade, then pinned him against the concrete. Szeto fought back. Managing to lash out an arm, the heel of his palm pushed against Ryu’s face then slid over his mouth. Ryu sank his teeth down and Szeto’s wail rang out like a goat at a slaughterhouse. Ryu reached and wrapped his fingers around Szeto's neck.

  Time to end this.

  “HEY!”

  Ryu stiffened. He pulled himself off of Szeto, twisting to see the trespasser. He needn’t turn back, for the sound of boots bounding against the pavement was all he needed to know that Szeto had run off a second time. Ryu made to stand, intent to do the same when out of nowhere he felt the full intensity of a colossal charley horse radiating across his thigh. He collapsed onto his knees and cringed. He spied in the distance a tall someone, black and shadowy in the dark as they made their exit from the side of the building. Every word of profanity Ryu knew exploded internally like the colourful array of a kaleidoscope. He’d been seen.

  Another gangster? Some junkie?

  It didn’t matter because also lurking somewhere close by were the cops. Curtains closed. He was done.

  September 2009

  two years prior

  Ryu did a double-take, catching a glimpse that became an indulgent stare. The guy stared back at him with sharp eyebrows to match the intensity of his eyes. Ryu noticed just a hint of a beard dotting his chin. That guy needed to remind himself to learn to shave later. Then again, maybe not. Maybe he was waiting to see what it would look like if he let it grow. The hair on his head was thick, his bangs growing too long, wavy and rebelling again like the rest of the hair just grazing his shoulders. The guy responded with a scowl, and Ryu recognized that that guy was himself.

  "Hey, Princess, quit admiring yourself. We need you on in ten," shouted Tim who slapped him hard on the back before cantering out of the change room.

  Ryu yawned and ruffled his hair once as he turned away from the mirror to pull on his jersey. After four minutes of what felt like walking in a dream, Ryu was on the court again.

  "I'm open!" Seth called out as Cody dribbled past defence. He received the pass. Several seconds later, someone else had the ball in possession. They flung it, hoping it would reach their team mate, but Ryu cut those hopes short. He jumped, from midair slamming it off the backboard and through the hoop. He'd scored another three points and the stadium erupted into cheers…

  Then Ryu woke up. Woke up just as he'd gotten to the good part.

  So the feeling of walking through a dream really was just that. Should have been obvious. He wasn't on the basketball team anymore. Besides, he'd never managed a slam dunk that flawless.

  Ryu blinked the sleep from his eyes and there was his science teacher glowering at him like he had just committed a felony.

  Well, he often did.

  But Ms. Edwards needn't know that.

  "Didn't mean to bore you, Mr. Debiru," she said.

  Ryu stared dully at her, indifferent to the stifled giggles of a few, mostly girls, in the class. Edwards didn't bother to say another word to him for the rest of fifth period, and Ryu quite liked that. Most teachers learned quickly. Scolding him wasn't worth their time because Ryu did what Ryu wanted to, and if they had a problem, there was one person to answer to. A person even the headmaster dared not challenge: Mr. Matsumoto, one of their more generous benefactors.

  Giving way to a yawn more suited to a lion than a teenage boy, Ryu peered down at his notebook. He saw where he'd last written… something, words unintelligible as it muddled together and bled into a puddle which was without a doubt his own drool. Ryu ripped out the page and crumpled it in disgust. Crackling. It was a sound that he was sure irked Ms. Edwards. But he didn't care. He wished to be anywhere but there. Outside. Or in the gym. On the basketball court, probably. Certainly, he dreamt he was there when he wasn't. Those dreams were better than talk of periodic tables or East Side street dealings. Well, the Academy might have been better than Heaven Home for Boys. Or maybe it was just the same. It seemed like choosing between two different cancers.

  When class ended, Ryu left as usual. Never in a hurry, yet never slow enough to suggest he'd be eager for conversation. He pretended not to notice that one mousy-haired girl who often tried to get his attention, leering at him from her locker as he strutted past her to his own. That girl wasn't the only one.

  There was a time when Ryu didn't know what their deal was. He thought back to his first year at the Academy. What did they say back then? That he was weird? That he was gross? He wondered what they might have said if they knew he had to fight six other boys just for the privilege of being able to hand wash his used clothes in a bathroom sink.

  Maybe they'd be less judgemental if they knew he'd witnessed hell on earth right before his eyes for probably the second time in three years. Ryu hadn't been ready to face death then. He still wasn't ready. And it didn't help that dried blood and stale vomit were hard to wash out of a beige button-up shirt. Yeah. Ryu supposed he'd become a "little" weird after all of that. Ryu learned the best thing to do was keep quiet, keep to yourself, not encourage conversation or questions from anyone. If that made him weird, then so be it.

  Grade nine. Was it then when things changed?

  Girls who didn't even look in his direction now stared and whispered as he passed. They'd linger wherever he did, steal glimpses at him as he looked away, and when he caught them they'd look away, like he was too dumb to notice. Or simple enough to be so easily enticed. That's when Seth clapped him on the shoulder and said with that lopsided grin of his:

  "Congrats. You're officially 'hot,' dude."

  It happened overnight. Ryu woke up one day and people noticed the muscle he'd developed in his arms from years of push-up marathons and enough hours spent in the basement dojo to burst a vein. Clothes which were once too big now fit snugly and this annoyed him because he knew he didn't have a single chance of getting new ones in a hurry. They didn't notice that at all, but they saw a bronze tone he'd developed from long hours outside during a pretty demanding and violent summer, a glow that gave the illusion of someone who spent their summer at the beach or on hiking trails. They noticed he no longer had the eyes of a lost and pathetic kid but of a young man whose innocence had long left him. Ryu grew much taller and tougher and looked so much more mature, not like the thin, puny, twelve-year-old nothing he'd been when he first arrived. It took a while for Ryu to realise it, but ever since Seth had pointed it out, he'd catch himself looking in reflections, in puddles, in mirrors…

  This was what made you "hot."

  Since joining a club was mandatory at the lower grades, Ryu joined the junior basketball team in his grade nine year along with Seth. That's how he met the new kids, Kevin Tsang and Cody Yow. And through all of that, in spite of a height which was still super average at best, Ryu excelled because all that martial arts training, target practice, swindling, ass-kicking, leaping over fences, and running for your life turned out to be great preparation for high school basketball. Maybe he couldn't dunk, but he was so fast he could cut from underneath and steal the ball from any player, even the ones with the tightest, tidiest control, before they even knew what was what.

  Being a baller gave Ryu a legion of fans.

  They knew nothing of, or quickly forgot about Ryu's former "weird kid", "broke kid from the east" status, only
that he was now a badass Asian dude and an all-round MVP. He was that cool kid with an attitude, a total boss, and he hung with a couple other dudes who talked big to match. But mostly, they were just some laid-back guys who didn't fit in and who didn't bother to try. They were over the Academy. Tim Simms and Jackson Noh were introduced to him through Seth who seemed to be everyone's friend when he wanted to be. Though Ryu's new friends all wanted to act like thugs, the only one who legitimately was, was Ryu. So he was easily the alpha of their pack, and loathed or lusted after.

  Now he was in grade ten and no longer on the junior team because he was a senior too lazy to join the senior team. Besides, it wasn't like it was easy to hide a back of tattoos under a basketball jersey. Still, Ryu was untouchable, but for new reasons. Nobody would be caught dead mocking him, but he didn't think much about what others thought. He didn't care much for the extra attention. Even his "friends" were a means to an end. The last thing he had time for were girls. Not with his life. Not a chance. And the one female he knew best—Claudia—was proof of how not worth it, it was.

  "Whoo, you go girl!"

  Ryu was pulled from out of his mind, his hand in his locker as he turned to see a girl from across the hall, the girl who had hollered out. She had just finished high-fiving another student who was part way through saying… something. The girl was petite with alluring eyes, and mid-length hair like shining black glass. He had seen her at least two or three times around the campus. Just randomly. She was nothing like the other girls who went to Shady Glenn Academy. She was real. A breath of fresh air. If there was a girl Ryu would date, he thought, it would be a girl like her.

  "Sumayah Hasan."

  Ryu swatted by his ear where he heard the whisper. He jerked around to see Seth’s devious smirk.

  "What are you doing? You almost gave me a heart attack!" Ryu snapped, feeling his face flush warm from embarrassment.

  Seth snickered.

  "I noticed you staring at her. That's her name, but she goes by 'Tracy.' She transferred up a grade. Like in March."

  Ryu looked at him with upturned brows, his interest piqued. "Yeah? You know her?"

  Seth shrugged. "Know 'of'’ her. I mean, look who her friends are."

  Ryu watched as Tracy crept behind a blonde tending to her locker, then grabbed her, causing her to scream. A teacher passing by made a shushing motion, disapproving of the ruckus they were causing. Ryu groaned, irate at the sight of the blonde, Seth's crush, Gabrielle Hope. This girl was from a wealthy family so everyone at the Academy knew “of” her. Her brother had graduated just last year or the year before and was himself so popular he became Head Boy. Even so, Gabrielle was a shy, simple, boring girl. But she loved to laugh and loved to ride horses. This was something Ryu only knew because Seth was absolutely obsessed with her. Ryu was about to retort angrily to Seth when he saw from the corner of his eye, another girl strut in from across the hall.

  Their sun and centre.

  That stuck-up, overdramatic know-it-all who didn't look Japanese, but was, who seemed pure-hearted, but wasn't, whose ever-ponytailed hair was as wound-up and uptight as she was—Haruna Mitsukai. He hated that girl. He watched with a narrowed gaze as Haruna joined Gabrielle and handed her a book. They laughed their fake laughs and hugged their fake hugs. For some reason that tiny duo was magnetic, always pulling others in, winning favours with everyone, including new students.

  Tracy seemed a lot less interesting all of a sudden.

  "Let's get outta here," Ryu grunted, finally grabbing what he'd come to his locker for and giving its door a slam. He ignored the startled looks directed his way.

  CHAPTER nine

  wolves' hide for the sheep

  Ryu’s thoughts were a jumbled mess as he considered his next move.

  Should he call Katsuo?

  And if he did call, what would he say? That everything they had worked for leading to this point had disintegrated into a complete failure? That it was inevitable he was going to get caught and be arrested? That Ryu and Matsumoto’s inability to foresee that Dr. Vincent Yap suspected retribution was their undoing? Or maybe that the Syndicate had been had this whole time, and the Rooster Kingz had been making mad-money off of them? Being unable to think of a way out drew emotions incredibly foreign to him. Confusion, paralysis—defeat.

  Ryu spun to see that the trespasser, the one who had shouted out during his and Szeto’s fight, had closed in at last. He was some black guy—tall, almost as tall as Seth—and his movements were slow and deliberate. As Ryu regarded him cautiously, he was struck by the narrowness of his eyes and the mop of dreads on his head that either stuck out or drooped across his eyebrows. He stared at him with an indecipherable gaze. Common sense told Ryu to run—limp if he had to—but something, maybe fear, kept him cemented in place like a deer in headlights.

  “You okay?” the guy said at last. His low voice had a calm, composed candour to it.

  “I’m fine,” Ryu said throatily. “Leave me alone.”

  “You sure? Looks like you’re hurt.”

  “Go away!” Ryu growled, his palms pressed against the ground as he hoisted his body upwards once more.

  There was no telling what this guy’s angle was. Ryu reminded himself that he still had a sure-fire way to defend himself if the situation called for it. Still, he much preferred to get out of there—ASAP.

  Then, there it was, stopped at the head of the street: a patrolling cop car.

  Ryu swore under his breath. He lowered his eyes. Still on the ground was the small blade Szeto had cut him with. Ryu hastened onto all-fours to retrieve it. He couldn’t chance anyone finding this with his blood on it.

  “You know,” the guy said, still maintaining his distance, “The cops don’t come round often, but they really aren’t the friendliest when they do. So, I mean, it’s up to you but I can help. I… know first aid.”

  The cop car started its engine, likely about to turn onto the very street where Ryu crouched, armed, but helpless. He turned begrudgingly, chancing a hard look at this unrelenting stranger.

  What choice did he even have?

  “Fine,” Ryu grumbled.

  Ryu arose with a wobble, and the stranger swooped in to support him where he stood. After several roving minutes in the dark, Ryu was led into the backroom of a local business with doors that had been shut to the public an hour ago. Ryu sat awkwardly on a low stool and watched with suspicion as the guy disappeared into a room, ran some water, then came back with a wad of tissues and a first aid kit. He knelt down to tend to the torn section of Ryu’s jeans and scowled at the exposed flesh.

  “Wow. He cut you bad, eh?” He looked up with knitted brows. Ryu noticed in the light that the guy was young, around his own age, and his face didn’t look mean at all. Ryu felt a tinge of jealousy. He appeared to be, in fact, quite shockingly good-looking.

  “It’s fine. It’s only a scrape, and I’ve just got a cramp,” Ryu answered back roughly.

  The guy nodded as though only half-listening, and Ryu flinched as the guy sprayed antiseptic liberally on the wound.

  “It’s not as deep as it looks so that’s a good thing—but still, I’d see a doctor if I were you. You might need stitches. It’ll take a long time to heal and hurt pretty bad until then.”

  Ryu was taken aback by his very “professional” sounding advice. He frowned.

  “Why are you helping me?”

  “I like helping people,” the guy responded as he started with the bandages, pulling tightly to stop the bleeding. “Not like I planned this. I was just closing shop—heard the noises. I figured it’s either I did something or called the police…” he glanced up with a smile, “but looks to me like that wouldn’t’ve done you any good.”

  Ryu ignored his last line, still stunned that any kind of a business was operating in the area.

  “You work in this dump?”

  The guy chuckled.

  “Yeah, but wouldn’t call it a dump. Dad o
wns the place. Mom and I help out. We don’t do too bad, though the location sucks, I agree.”

  Ryu guiltily avoided his eyes and peered down at his bandaged leg. Ryu searched for something to distract from the tactlessness of his previous comment.

  “What kind of business? Not another money-lending place, I hope,” he joked.

  The guy shook his head. “Restaurant. Says ‘Long’s’ on the sign out front. I take it you don’t come around these parts often.”

  “This is Long’s?”

  Ryu felt his eyes spring from their sockets. His brothers had ordered take-out delivery from this restaurant for years and Ryu had even spoken to the owner on the phone at least once. Easily, it was some of the best food this side of town, if not, all of Campbelton! Then, he scrunched up his face in realisation.

  “Wait—the owner is your dad? The Chinese guy?”

  He smiled. “That would be the one.”

  “So you’re…”

  “Uh-huh. Surprised? Yeah, I get that a lot.”

  Ryu averted his gaze to the floor. So this guy was like him, half-Asian, and on top of that his father owned this restaurant. Ryu couldn’t believe how wrong his first impression had been. He lifted his head as the guy held his hand out, still grinning, and helped him to his feet. Now face-to-face, Ryu noted that he was tall, but he wasn’t anywhere near as tall as Ryu first thought. The guy then reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. Ryu balked.

  “What the—my wallet!” He hadn’t noticed it gone. Had he dropped it?

  The guy laughed.

  “I got it off you before bringing you in. Yeah, you know I can’t be helping shady people without seeing some ID first.”

  Ryu snatched the wallet from him and pocketed it, giving him a long, hard stare. Good thing Long jr. had gone into Ryu’s back pocket on the right, instead of where he’d stashed his gun on the left.

  “I’m the shady one? You’re the one who picked my pocket. How’d you even do it?”