A/N: Very Important! Please read this before continuing!

Since I cannot change the font, aside from italics, I had to get creative with the flashback/journal scenes. So when it is a flashback/journal scene, the scene will begin and end with a page break line. I know a bit annoying, (I had a really nice font I wanted to use for the journal scenes too) but we just have to deal with it. Almost every present day event will be known by the bold type telling either the time of day, or the date. Alright now enjoy Chapter Two!


August 18th

To: Judge Banks

From: One smart ass son of a bitch

Re: Do you even care?

That's all I've written so far. I wanted to start writing yesterday but life got in the way. After we got home Mom made the mistake of asking us how it went. Her and Dad ended up fighting for an hour before he finally told her to shut the hell up and get started on dinner.

"Gerald, your coach called me today. He asked me why you haven't been going to training. Why haven't you been going to training Gerald?"

I stopped poking at Mom's dry meatloaf. Beads of sweat began to form on my forehead. He wasn't looking at me but I paid attention to his eyes anyway. The question was like a loaded gun. One false move and I would be done for.

"I've been busy Dad. This whole…situation has taken up a lot of my time. I'm going in the morning though,"

He sipped his beer. "Another reason you need to get your life together. You have a good thing going at that gym. You have competitions to prepare for. I will not let you be the first Johanssen man to not win at least one title." Dad took a bite of his meatloaf.

"I will do my best Dad." My body felt as hard as stone. We have had this conversation before and it never ended well. He wanted a champion and I wanted no part of it. Like my older brother Jamie-O, I took up boxing around thirteen. It was a Johanssen family tradition. I never knew anyone who went on to become famous, but all the men in my family were well known at their local gyms, and often placed in regional competitions. Jamie-O even got a scholarship because he won so many competitions. I had reluctantly agreed to take up the sport, hoping to please him. Dad was never that good at it, and he only won one fight, quitting the sport right after. Grandpa never thought much of him after that. Dad was never the violent type before he started drinking, probably why he was only a desk clerk during the Vietnam War. I am good at it though, really good. My coach would encourage me to join competitions but I just didn't want to be another trophy for my Dad to show off. I had my coach lie and say I wasn't ready, and that I should focus more on school. Dad said that since I wouldn't bring him a trophy, I should at least pull my weight and forced me to get a job at the gym. Nothing serious, just cleaning locker rooms and dispensing towels, that kind of junk. Dad let me keep the money too, so I guess it wasn't all that bad. I ended up calling my coach this morning and feigned sick. Ever since this mess started I couldn't bring myself to face him. He is going to kill me when he finds out and I want to delay my death as long as possible.

After dinner Dad drank himself into a stupor. Timberly and I hid out in our rooms. Sometimes he was a friendly drunk, and then there were the times when you should run like a bat out of hell. We were no longer willing to play this Russian roulette game. Dad had his way with Mom last night. Timberly slept in bed with me. When I was younger I never would have let that shit happen. Guess I'm just trying to be a good big brother. She started doing this after the first violent outburst. He scared the crap out of us. Dad promised he would never let the stress of his new job get to him again. That was seven years ago. Don't get me wrong, Timberly can handle herself, but she's still so young, she wants our family to be perfect again. Or at least she wants to be the center of attention again. Instead of going to the gym I walked with Timberly to Slausen's and we got ice cream. One last summer thrill before we hit the daily grind of school again. She's starting the eighth grade this year. I don't want to tell her that I'm beginning therapy next weekend. I don't want her to see me as a failure. I don't want her to think that I'm like our father.

I can hear Dad yelling about the bills. Mom is trying to console him, keep him quiet so the neighbors won't hear. I look down at my journal and sigh. Let's see if writing will cleanse my soul.


It was Thursday morning, the second week of junior year. Arnold was fiddling with my busted radio, hoping to find a station that wasn't just static.

"You really should replace this thing Gerald, how are we supposed to cruise around town if we don't have any music?"

"Will you relax man?" I turned into the school parking lot. "I'm saving up to get a whole new system. Bass, speakers, the works. Trust me I got this; just give me a couple of months."

"That's what you said when you first got the car, last year." He rolled his eyes.

"Fuck you," I laughed. I found a spot not too far away from the main building. Some cute girls waved at us as we walked inside. Well, they really waved at Arnold. Something about his yellow bed head hair was just so damn appealing. He told me how his ex-girlfriends would love to run their hands through it, brushing it for him. "So what's this I heard about you and Lila?" Lila was one of the hottest girls at our school. I had no interest in her as I knew how manipulative she could be, but Arnold couldn't see past her charm.

His face turned a bright red. "Nothing, she just wants to hang out at Slausen's. It's not that serious."

"Mhmm, I know when you're lying to me Arnold. You've been after her since we were in the fourth grade. I guess she finally took pity on your desperate ass."

Arnold and I had been best friends since preschool. Growing up we went on lots of wild crazy adventures. He's brave and will go out of his way to help people, even when it's unnecessary. That's what I liked about him; he was always looking out for the little guy. Arnold even taught me how to ride a bike and was the only person who didn't tease me when my voice changed after I had my tonsils taken out. If there was anything annoying about him it was that he was always looking on the bright side. But he was always there for me, and I loved his optimistic ass. He was my brother. I'd die for him, and I know he would do the same for me.

"Hey at least I'm talking to someone, you are still sad and lonely my friend." We stopped at his locker so he could gather his books for first period.

"Those sound like fighting words buddy. Besides you know who I'm interested in." I glanced to my right.

Arnold looked over his shoulder and grinned. "When are you going to stop acting like a wimp and ask her out? It's been eight years!"

"Will you shut up, she might hear you!"

"Hi Arnold," Came her sweet angelic voice.

"Hey Phoebe,"

"Good morning Gerald," I gave her a small wave, as my tongue was now tied in knot.

Phoebe walked over to her locker, a few feet away from where we were standing.

Phoebe Heyerdahl. There were not enough words to describe the beauty before me. To say I had a crush on her would be an understatement, I was absolutely nuts about the girl. I started to develop feelings for her when I was nine, when it was still easy to flirt with her. Once she hit puberty that all changed. Phoebe developed curves and I was no longer the only guy vying for her attention. Now I've dated plenty of girls over the years, but Phoebe has always had a special place in my heart. From her innocent smile, to her cute but sexy geek chic attire, I was in love with her. I was just too nervous to ask her out as I we came from too different worlds. I was in the popular crowd, and while she was liked, Phoebe was a total geek. Dating a geek would be social suicide, and I still had two more years left with these people. I was too scared to rock the boat.

"Gerald, you're drooling again. Will you just go talk to her?" Arnold slammed his locker shut.

I blinked a few times before nodding my head. "You're right, time to stop being a little bitch and ask her out."

"Or something like that." I ignored him and walked over to her. Phoebe had her raven waist length hair up in messy bun. She probably just rushed out the house. I wished I could be her hair tie.

"Good morning Phoebe. You look really nice today." She looked up at me and smiled. Her almond shaped eyes were only enhanced by her new glasses.

"Why thank you Gerald,"

"I haven't seen you lately. It sucks that we don't have any classes together." I said coolly.

"Oh I know it is a shame. I'm just taking so many AP classes this year. But I am thinking of dropping one or two, you know, so I won't be so stressed out." She bent down to retrieve a book and I couldn't help but admire her petite frame. "Do you have any class recommendations Gerald? I wouldn't mind sharing a class with you."

"Well I actually like my-"

"Sorry I'm late Phoebe! Bob was being a douche with a capital bag this morning!" Helga cut me off. She pushed me aside and threw open her locker, which was directly next to Phoebe's, and tossed her bag inside.

"It's quite alright Helga. Gerald was keeping me company."

Helga whipped around and scowled at me. "I don't know Pheebs, you could find better company."

"I could say the same about you Pataki." I glared at her. Helga G. Pataki. I hated that bitch. I've known her just as long as I've known Arnold and Phoebe, and she's always been a bully. If she didn't agree with something, she would fight tooth and nail to have things her way. Hell she liked to beat people up if they just looked at her the wrong way. "Now can you get out the way mono brow? Phoebe and I were having a conversation."

"What did you say to me tall hair boy? I'm not afraid to break out O'l Betsey and the Five Avengers." She growled as she cracked her knuckles. We both liked to hit below the belt. Once we got to middle school Helga had gotten rid of her mono brow, and had now developed into a rather shapely young woman. She reminded me a lot of her older sister Olga, and she was one sexy chick. If Helga wasn't such a bitch I wouldn't have minded trying to hit it. I on the other hand had this ridiculous hi-top fade growing up; my hair was huge! Got to love growing up in the nineties! Helga teased me so much about it that I ended up cutting it off in middle school. Now I just sport a curly fro, but it's pulled into a low ponytail half the time thanks to boxing.

The school bell rang before Helga and I could exchange blows. "Oh will you look at the time. Helga come on we are going to be late for our AP English class." Phoebe tugged on her friend's hand. "It was nice talking to you Gerald. See you around,"

I muttered a bye as I stalked back to Arnold.

"It was going good until Helga showed up." He said reassuringly.

"She's the ultimate cock block I swear!"

"Don't worry Gerald. You still got all day to try; she and Helga aren't attached at the hip." I nodded my head in agreement. Waiting seemed to be my best option.


I put my pen down. Over a thousand words, that should be good enough for two weeks.

"Damn it Joy! Why isn't dinner ready?" Dad's home. I look at my alarm clock; it's six thirty. He's early. "I expect dinner to be ready in thirty minutes or there will be hell to pay!" I tune him out. Unless the situation involves me, it's none of my concern. I go to my dresser and wrap my hands. Before Jamie-O left for college he helped me set up a punching bag in my room. I had it put in under the ruse of training, but it really only served to reduce my stress. Cleanses my soul a lot more than writing in that damn journal. I hear a dish break. The sound of me hitting the bag drowns out Mom's cries. Timberly creeps into my room a couple of minutes later. We share a knowing look. It's going to be one of those nights. I continue punching the bag.