It didn't take long for me to learn how to properly fight. Apparently being a new kid isn't something to look forward to.
I was walking to the grocery store a week after we moved in. Trey needed cigarettes, mom needed booze and I needed food. Unfortunately, when I went to pay for the booze and the food, I realized that I didn't have enough money to pay for everything. I just figured that I would either give the cashier a look to take pity on me or steal what food I couldn't buy. Katy always told me that my eyes expressed everything when I needed them too. Besides, what kind of person wouldn't let a young boy buy food because he didn't have enough money? When I went to pay, the cashier gave me a weird look before telling me that I was too young to buy the booze.
I gave her a confused look. "What?"
"You're too young kid. What are you, 6?"
"No, I'm 11." I responded, a little surprised and offended.
"You have to be 21."
"I'm going to be drinking it. My mom will." Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a few other kids my age snickering.
"Kid, I can't sell this to you. You have to be 21 to buy booze, and there is no way that you are 21."
I sighed. This short little trip to the grocery store was turning into a long little trip to the grocery store. "Look, we're out of booze at my house, and I don't want my mom to wake up and discover this little fact. I promise I won't drink it. Scout's honor." I promised while giving her my best puppy dog eyes.
The cashier gave me a look with an emotion I couldn't identify. "OK, but just this one time, and if I get caught, than pretend that you stole it, deal?"
I nodded my head. "Deal."
Walking out of the store, the kids I saw out of the corner of my eye earlier were suddenly in my way.
"Who are you?" The oldest looking boy asked me.
"Why?"
"Because I don't know you, and I know everybody."
I eyed the 5 boys wearily, remembering what Trey had told me when we first moved into the neighborhood.
Don't trust anybody, don't befriend anybody, and don't talk to anybody.
Why?
Because we're the new kids you dumbfuck and they're going to want to break us in.
What does that mean?
It means that you better know how to fight.
Trey showed me a few moves before he disappeared outside. Remember, he said before slamming the front door shut, always throw the first punch.
The older looking boy waved his hand in front of me. "Hey kid, did you hear me? I want your name."
I tried to ignore the guys and keep on walking. They didn't like my response very much.
Standing in front of me again, the oldest looking kid looked really angry. I knew that look. That was the look that dad would give me right before he would hit me extra hard. Knowing what was about to happen, I carefully put down the groceries a safe distance behind me and walked right up to the kid who appeared to be the leader of the group. The gang was closely watching my moves, curious as to what I would do next.
Walking slowly and calmly up to the leader, gave him my best smirk and swung the best left hook I could muster. "The name's Ryan." I said.
The next thing I remember is waking up in a hospital with the cashier from earlier standing at the window but staring at me. I started to sit up to give the cashier and my new temporary residence a once over, but a sharp pain in my chest made me immediately lie back down.
"You've got quite a list of injuries there, Ryan Atwood."
"How do you know my name?"
"Your brother."
"How do you know my brother?"
"You're brother is the one who saved you from being beaten to death and brought you here."
"Trey's here?"
The cashier nodded. "Yeah."
"Where is he?"
"Talking to the doctor, I guess."
I sighed and rubbed my temple. I could only imagine the headache I was going to get from my brother for not fighting back enough and from my mom for fighting in the first place.
The cashier rushed to my side. "You OK kid? Should I call the doctor?"
I shook my head, quickly realizing that was a bad choice of actions. "No, just thinking about my future headache."
The cashier put a questioning look on her face. "Future headache?"
"You never told me your name." I said, changing the subject.
"It's Cassie." I almost jumped out of my skin when the response came for the doorway instead of beside my bed. "And you should thank her, she saved your life."
"No I didn't."
"Don't be modest Cassie, you saved Ryan's life. Thanks." Trey turned to face me with an angry look on his face. "We got to go Ryan. No insurance."
I started to nod, but than remembered that moving my head that much wasn't a good idea.
"OK."
Cassie didn't say anything, but she looked pretty pissed.
Cassie and Trey helped me back to my room. Lying down on my bed, I instantly fell asleep. Dreaming of my life back in Fresno with Katy, I unconsciously preyed that Katy would come to live in Chino with me and that we would live happily ever after (strictly as friends, of course). My happy dream was interrupted by my mother's giggling and a stranger's low voice making some sort of noise. I looked over at Trey's bed to see if he was still awake. His bed was empty.
How the hell did he make friends so quickly? He's not a people person, I silently wondered.
Suddenly, by door flew open and my mother fell on the ground with some strange guy on top of her.
"Mom, are you OK?" I tried to quickly sit up, but the sharp pain once again reminded me that wasn't a good idea.
Mom looked up at me first, than took a look around the room. "Oops," she giggled, "this isn't my room."
"Mom?'
"Yes baby?" She slurred.
"Who's the guy on top of you?" I tried to keep the panic out of my voice.
"Who Him? This, baby, this is Carl." She replied in a dreamy voice.
"Hi." He slurred.
Great, another drunk.
My mom and Carl started to make out.
"Mom!"
"I'm sorry baby. Maybe we should take this to my room Carl, and let the boy sleep."
Carl and my mom got up and stumbled out of the room.
"Mom?" I called.
"Yeah?"
"You shouldn't be kissing that guy. What about when dad comes home?"
Mom snorted. "Ryan that no good bastard of a father is never coming home. Carl will be your new dad now. And don't think I didn't notice that the booze money has disappeared."
"But."
"No buts." She interrupted. "Your grounded to your room for the next 2 week."
With my punishment said, my mom slammed the door shut and went to Carl. I got used to her not noticing my bruises and broken bones, or not saying anything when I was clearly in pain, but I never could get used to the noise coming from my mother's room in the middle of her drunken nights.
