A knock sounds at the door, and I yell up the stairs for Meg to turn down the music. I can hardly hear myself think. Heading toward the door, I place my arm beside the frame and yank it open.
“G’day, brother. You up for a bit of training?” Jason asks as he saunters in past me and heads straight for the fridge.
“Sure. About time I loosened up a bit after the weekend,” I say, slapping him on the back as he leans forward. Then finding nothing he wants, he stands and shuts the fridge, following me out the back door and around to the carport where we have a punching bag set up with some weights and mats for training.
Before this, we got our fight training from my stepdad, but he quit fighting the moment I put him on his arse.
“Practise some kicks, bro. You’re all about the punches, but you could do with a few well-placed kicks too. Did you watch those video links I sent you?”
“Nah, not yet,” I say, twisting at the waist a bit to test out how careful I need to be with my ribs.
“Well, you should. You’re the guy to beat at the moment and everyone’s gonna be watching videos of you and training to take you down. It’s hard to stay on top.”
“Alright, I get it. I’ll watch them today.”
Jason stands behind the punching bag and steadies it for me as I begin to punch and warm up. He’s been coming around to train ever since he heard about the fights out at Londonderry. He’s a couple of years older than me and makes a living driving trucks interstate a couple of times a month. The pay is pretty good and he has his own rig, so he works enough to pay the loan on that, and since he still lives in the garage at his mother’s house, he just pays board and comes and goes as he pleases. It leaves him free to help me out and be my guy on the sidelines at fights. He’s there to make sure I’m taken care of and if anything happens to me, he’s the guy who’ll get me out of there. He says he does it because he likes to, but I give him some cash whenever I win anyway, just to make me feel better about taking his help all the time.
Admittedly, I’m a little jealous of Jason. He’s got a pretty sweet deal at home if you ask me and his mum is a really nice lady. I’m not sure why she was involved with my stepdad long enough to have two kids with him. But at least she wizened up and kicked his arse out. Good deal for her but a shit deal for us because that’s when he hooked up with my mother and fathered three more children that neither of them really cared about. Miserable fuck.
A growl rumbles in my throat at the thought of him, and I hit out at the bag with enough force to push Jason backward.
“So, what was the deal with you going after that girl?” Jason asks, knowing me well enough to try and redirect my mind as he adjusts his stance.
Lightening up, I do a punch and uppercut combo into the bag, jolting him backward with each hit. But he’s holding his own now. I keep it going, working the combo on each side as I think about my answer.
“I don’t know. I guess I remembered her from school, I saw her there and…” I pause for a moment and shrug. “It just happened.”
“Well, remember what happened the last time you got all infatuated with her?”
“I know, man. I know. It’s not like that. This time, she saw me too.”
“Bad timing.”
“Story of my life, man.”
“You planning on chasing it?”
I roll my torso from side to side, trying to work out how I can move to avoid the pain in my side.
“I don’t know. I want to, but…”
“Yeah, bro, I know. But you could always fuck her just to get her out of your system. You know what they always said about her.”
I stop punching the bag and immediately reach out and grab his shirt, anger flaring inside me as I pull him toward me and growl in his face. “Don’t. Fucking. Talk. About. Her. Like. That.”
Jason keeps his cool and gives me a knowing look. “Looks like it’s exactly like it was, bro. Stay away, she’s bad news for you.”
I release him, pushing him away because I realise he just goaded me and won. Fucking arsehole.
Turning my attention back to the bag, I hit at it twice as hard as I was before, making Jason really work to keep it steady.
“How’re your ribs feeling?” he asks after a while.
“Fine,” I grunt, still pissed at him for saying shit about Evie.
“Well, don’t push it too hard. We need you fighting fit for the next fight.”
I stop punching and glare at him, feeling as though he used the name of the gym Evie’s family owns on purpose. He laughs, thinking he’s making a great joke, but his face straightens when he looks over my shoulder and asks, “Can we help you?”
I turn and see three guys approaching. They’re all wearing suits but they’re definitely not businessmen. There isn’t a briefcase between the lot of them. Something tells me this isn’t a good thing.
Placing my hands on my hips, I try to look nonchalant and shit. This isn’t the first time this has happened. My stepdad was into some stupid stuff, so it’s not unusual for burly looking guys to come knocking while looking for some sort of payment. I glance back at the house, glad that the three younger kids are at school while simultaneously hoping that Meg stays out of sight. You never know what guys like this are packing and my fists may not be enough.
“It might be better to ask if we can help you,” the tallest one in the middle says. He’s wearing one of those stripy suits that lawyers on TV wear. But I’m pretty sure lawyers don’t look like ex-sumo wrestlers who probably bash heads in for fun.
I turn back to the bag and throw a couple of punches. “No. I reckon I don’t need your help.”
One of the other guys slaps his hand against the bag and stops it from swinging. But it’s the middle guy who continues to talk.
“Let me put it a different way. I’ve seen you fight out at Londonderry. And each time, you get better and better. Now, that last time…that was something else. We don’t normally get guys coming back and winning like that. You see, it’s too hard to fight from beginning to end. It’s why the rules are the way they are out there. We want guys thinking they have a chance to win. That’s what keeps them coming back week after week, handing over their money. No reigning champion means more opportunity to win all the cash. But then you come along and you smashed down every single motherfucker in your path. It was beautiful to watch, kid. Which is why I’m here. I have a business proposal for you.”
I glance at Jason who gives me a look to say he has no idea what’s going on. Then I turn back. “A business proposal?”
“Yes. See, the fights out at Londonderry are just for shits and giggles. Most guys are just going out there to get their pound of flesh. Work off a bit of anger. You know the drill. But every now and then a real shining star emerges. And I believe that shining star is you.”
“I’m sorry. Who are you?”
Smiling he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a card. “I apologise, that was very rude of me. I’m Harry Nelson. Although most just call me, Nelson,” he says, offering me the card. I take it and look it over as he continues to talk. “I’m the guy whose property you’re all fighting on. I’m the guy who pays to keep the cops away so you can all have your little bit of fun. I’m also the guy who takes decent fighters and makes them a fuckload of cash on the Rumble Circuit.”
I can’t help but laugh. “The Rumble Circuit? That’s what they call it? Sounds like some TV drama or something.”
“It’s far from a TV drama, kid. This is your chance to make some real money and get a chance to be discovered to fight professionally. You won’t be making a measly few grand every month or two. I’m talking five grand every week to the runner-up. Ten to the winner and if you get to the end of the tournament, the winner gets one hundred large.”
Eyeing him suspiciously, I flip the card over and over between my fingers. “And just what do you get out of this? I can’t imagine you telling me about this out of the kindness of your heart.”
He looks at both his
buddies as he wipes his jaw. “He’s a smart kid this one,” he says with a smile that is anything but happy. “Well, someone’s got to vouch for you and put up your entry fee. Once I recoup that, I take a twenty percent cut of your earnings for discovering you.”
I let out a low whistle. “That’s a decent cut. Can I ask what the entry fee is?”
“Yeah, get past your trial fight and it’s twenty K to join the circuit. The fact that I’m willing to put up that kind of money on a kid like you means that I really think you’ve got something.”
“And what happens if I don’t win anything?”
“I always get my money back, kid. I’ll find a way for you to work it off somehow. But from what I’ve seen, you and I are going to make lots and lots of money together.”
“Wait, don’t get ahead of yourself,” Jason says, holding his hand up. “We haven’t said yes yet. Exactly where is this Rumble Circuit? If isn’t local, we can’t help you.”
“And who are you? His trainer?”
“Yeah. I’m his trainer. I’m the guy who makes sure he gets out of the cage in one piece.”
“Why does the fight need to be local?” Nelson asks, directing the question only at me.
“My parents work a lot, so the family needs me to help out here.”
He raises his eyebrows and smiles. It’s a shit eating grin, I don’t like it. “They work a lot? Right. From what I hear, your stepdad fucked off a long time ago and your mother is off on some cruise ship somewhere, pretendin’ she doesn’t even have a family.”
Immediately, my teeth clench and all I can hear is blood rushing in my ears as my fists clench at my sides. Jason places his hand on my chest, warning me not to start something as I wonder if I can take all these three guys down at once.
Nelson chuckles. “Relax, kid. We’re not gonna tell on you – unless you say no, of course.”
“So I don’t really have a choice?” I say through my teeth, pissed that this man has come into my life and taken away my power.
“No. But the good news is, the circuit is local. It runs wherever they can put us that night. We get a text telling us the GPS location of that week’s fight a couple of hours in advance and we all head out. Pretty fucking simple – even a monkey could do it.”
“So I get nothing until you get your investment back, is that right?’
He works his jaw a little bit. “I’ll tell you what. You seem a little hard up right now. How about we split everything 50-50 at first and then after that 30-70?”
“30-70?”
“Consider it your interest charge.”
I nod, knowing there’s no point in arguing. The man has me bent over a barrel. “When’s the next fight?” I ask, my bruising still healing from the last one.
“Next weekend. We’ll be in touch with the details, kid. You have my card if you have any questions.”
With that he turns and his goons follow. I watch to make sure they get in their car. Slowly, I turn back toward Jason and stand there, staring at the stark white card in my hands. All it has on it is his name and a phone number in bold black lettering. Nothing else.
“Shit, bro. I don’t know about those guys,” Jason says, his features creased with worry.
“What choice do I have? He knows we’re on our own. You don’t think he’ll report us to family services if I say no?”
“Fucking hell,” Jason groans, running his hands over his face in exasperation.
“Please tell me you aren’t actually considering that?” Meg says from behind us.I spin around to meet her eyes and offer her a shrug.
“What else can I do? They know about us, Meg. And even if they didn’t, I can’t look after four kids on my normal wage.”
“I’m not a kid,” she argues.
“Well, when you spend all day sulking and make comments like that, especially after getting into a relationship with one of your teachers, you are acting like a kid. How many times do we have to go over this? How many times do we have to be hungry and without electricity for you to understand that this is the only way for us? I’m a good fighter, Meg. And we all made the decision to stick together until we can get a hold of mum and tell her it’s safe to come back.”
She looks from Jason to me and shakes her head slowly. “And when are you going to realise that she isn’t coming back? We’re alone, Zac. Accept it.”
But I can’t accept it. I have to believe that someone cares enough to come back for us. Our mother has her faults and she’s always been selfish. But I have to believe that there’s a chance that I can convince her. A chance that we won’t be alone forever. Once she realises he’s gone, she’ll come back. I’m sure of it.
I have to have hope. Otherwise, I’m going to fall apart. I can’t look after them all forever. But I can’t give up and let them be torn apart by the state system. No one wants to take on three young children to keep them together. This is the only way.
“I need to train,” I say, pocketing the card and turning back toward the bag, trying to give her the hint that I’m done with this conversation.
She continues regardless. “We can’t hide this forever, Zac. People are already beginning to find out.”
But I ignore her and pretty soon, the pounding of my fists into the bag is all that I can hear.
Seven
Evie
Instead of staying behind after school to finish my art project, I give up my lunchtime for the rest of the week and work on my visual arts diary at home. As much as I wouldn’t mind another chance run into Zac Rivers to figure out what the hell is going on between us, I don’t want to get involved with the whole teacher/student relationship going on between Mr Sparks and Meg. And I’m still not sure if I should be saying anything about it. The knowledge nags at me, but after hearing the argument between Meg and Zac, I feel as though I need to keep quiet. At least until I can talk to Zac again.
Giving up the quiet of the art room after school kind of sucks though. The art room at lunchtime is a noisy place, filled with every wannabe artist in the school and their friends. Normally, students in their final year get preference over the use of easels and supplies. But most of the year twelve students have already finished and submitted their projects. So I’m in here with a bunch of year nine and ten students.
I’ve been doing my best to ignore the chatter and just get the last of my work done. But today, there’s a group of girls who keep whispering and looking my way.
I figure they’ve just heard the rumours about my family and are having fun spreading them even further. Maybe they’re even adding their own dash of the fantastic to the ever-growing story. Last I heard, we were all a bunch of drug dealers and my dad was on the FBI watch list.
My sister Rose had retaliated at the time by telling some girls there’s no such thing as the FBI in Australia. It’s the Federal Police. Unfortunately, pointing out the flaws in their logic never makes a difference. You can’t reason with rumourmongers. If they want to assume we’re a bunch of criminals, then so be it. But, Rose is only fourteen and still has this idea that we can all be seen as the individuals we are. She’s sweet. It’s a shame the rest of the world is so shit.
My brother Craig, however, is doing well now that he’s in high school. I guess it’s different when you’re a boy. Girls love a bad boy and at thirteen, he’s already breaking hearts. I can just see him ruling the school by year twelve and maybe becoming one of the Londonderry fighters. He’d revel in the glory of it all.
I smile to myself at the thought of it as I continue trying to ignore the stares in the room. Using a metal tape measure, I prepare the wood for my frame and begin to saw it on an angle, using a guide that’s attached to the workstation in the back of the room. I finished the painting yesterday, and if I attach the frame now, it can be submitted and I’m finished with high school art forever.
“I heard she was the last one to see him alive.”
I frown as a snippet of their conversation reaches my ears.
“She probably
cut him up in to little pieces with that saw.”
A burst of giggling and sniggers erupts from the group of year ten girls.
Slapping the saw down on top of the heavy bench, I look up and glare at them. “Fine. I’ll bite. Who did I kill this time?”
One of the girls has the decency to look embarrassed, but the other is only too happy to continue being a bitch.
“Mr Sparks. He was here on Monday, stayed back with you, and now he’s gone.”
“Therefore, I killed him. I get it. That’s so obviously the most logical explanation.” I shake my head, picking up the saw again to finish what I was doing. “You know, you people get dumber every year. I swear. Have you considered that he might be off sick?” or perhaps hiding scared from an angry Zac Rivers…
“We asked at the office. He’s gone forever,” the other girl says.
“So he left the school entirely?” I focus my question on the only girl who seems to have some sort of sense and she nods.
“That’s what we heard.”
“It all seems very suspicious to me,” the bitch says, and I roll my eyes, refusing to continue with the conversation. Instead, I frame my artwork in record time, ignoring any further comments, and place my work in the storeroom with the other completed projects. Then I rush outside, trying to find a streak of pale blonde hair. Call me nosey, but I want to know if Meg is here or if she’s gone too.
***
Looking for Meg in the last part of lunch ended up being a bust. I couldn’t find her anywhere. But I do catch her walking out to the front gate with her stepsister, Nikki, I think her name is, after the bell has gone for the end of school.
“Meg,” I call out, running a little to catch up with her.
She turns to find the source of the voice and when she sees it’s me, I notice her face cloud over a little. “I’ll see you later,” she says to Nikki.
“You should come around this weekend. We’ll watch movies or something,” Nikki says.
Meg nods then turns her attention back to me. “What do you want?” she asks as soon as I fall into step beside her.
“Don’t you live with your step-siblings?”
Drawn to Fight: Zac & Evie Page 5