TJ would've been lying if he said beating the crap out of Austin wasn't cathartic.
Walking to school the following Monday, part of him wanted to see the football player's face just to get a good look at the damage. His own face had a few scratches, but nothing that couldn't be brushed aside as coming from a fall, and didn't have more than a few aches here and there. Nothing he wasn't used to from boxing practice.
Maybe now Austin will learn to leave him and others alone. He didn't like fighting, but he wasn't ignorant to the fact that sometimes the only way to get a bully off your back if to knock them flat on their ass.
On his way to his locker, the crowd parted, whispering amongst themselves, most likely about the fight the previous Saturday. A smirk rose when he caught a glance of Austin, face scratched, nose casted, eye blackened, knocked down a few pegs. Austin did his best to send a death glare, but it was hard to take him seriously with all those bruises on his face.
#
Sitting in remedial lit, TJ tried to get into the book that was just handed out for them to start reading. Some mystery book. The Barnaby Boys books were easy enough to get into, but so far, this one wasn't doing it for him. Maybe if just kept reading, something would hook him in. The last one was a lot more interesting, and he finished it early.
The teacher handed back the few essays that were handed it the week before. Some students opted for getting at least one of them out of the way, TJ included. All his other classes had a lot of work, might as well get most of it out of the way. Only two more to go.
When his was placed on his desk, he looked and saw a nice red 'C' at the top, along with a sticky note attached, asking for him to meet the teacher after class. He aimed for a B, but he'd settle for a C. A 'C' was average. In the middle. He was used to being average. Average looking, average height, average grades, average family, average.
When the bell rang, he packed the new book away and headed towards the teachers desk with his essay in hand.
"You wanted to see me, Mrs. Patiel?" he asked.
"Yes, TJ. I graded your paper and I noticed a large amount of spelling and grammatical mistakes. You told me you were recently diagnosed with dyslexia, and knowing this, it makes a lot more sense," said Mrs. Patiel. "Besides those mistakes, you wrote a very good essay, but I had to take the mistakes into your grade. I want to give you a chance to correct those mistakes for a better grade. I'll give you until the end of the week to correct as much of it as you can, alright? If you need help, you can stay after school and I'll be happy to help you."
"Thanks, Mrs. Patiel. I'll try to get it done in time."
#
"Here is an outline for the display board. Try not to make it too flashy; this isn't elementary school. We have to at least appear to me mature in our choices."
With their free time in German, Gretchen set a rough drawing of what the display board should look like, according to her. There wasn't much protest, TJ believed he already did enough for this project, and his best guess was that Vince and Spinelli just didn't care.
"And who's putting it together?" Vince asked.
"One of you three," Gretchen said. She placed a copy of the essay on her desk, parts of which were going on the display. "I already corrected your horribly written parts, and drafted what the board should look like."
"I'm not doing it. I'm busy enough already," said Spinelli.
"And I have practice," said Vince.
"I don't care which one of you do it. Just do it," said Gretchen, moving the papers to the desk of the person closest to her, Vince.
He looked at the paper with disgust, and didn't want to touch it. TJ was wondering if he could get some writing done for creative writing class when the papers were placed on his desk.
"You do it," Vince told him. "I've got better things to do than work on some dumb project."
"Uh, no? I already did enough for this thing," TJ shot back. "I wrote my part of the essay, translated it all, and I'm baking the food to bring in. I'm not doing this, too."
"So what? I have football practice, I can't do it."
"Yes you can. I don't know what your grade in this class is, but I have an 'A'. I never wanted to work in this group with any of you, and I'm ready to take this hit to my grade if I have to," he said. "I'm not doing this board. Even if it means getting an 'F' on the whole project. But sports teams are strict on their members keeping their grades up, right? You can't afford to take that chance."
TJ shoved the papers back onto his desk.
"Spinelli—"
"No. I have practice, too, moron," she snapped. "I don't have any more time than you do."
"Is there something wrong?" The teacher asked when she came over.
"They can't decide which of them should put the board together," said Gretchen. She pointed at the three of them with her pencil.
"How about you all work on it together?" The teacher suggested. "You can pick one off your homes to put it together at, or do it at the library. How about that?"
There was a round of groans from the four of them.
"The library. I don't want any of you in my house."
None of them made any move to argue with that. The library was the most neutral place to get it done between every other place. They agreed to meet after school the next day to get the board done.
#
The kickboxing team gathered in a circle at the end of practice, rather than give their usual goodbyes and heading home right away, as per Kevin's request. Once they all caught their breath, Kevin spoke.
"This Friday, we're taking final height and weight measurements for the tournament. We already explained to you all that those two things determine which class each of you can compete in, and what each of you need to focus on to be at your best. When you're older, it'll just be your weight, but since you're all at that age where you grow like weeds, it's your height and weight," Kevin explained. "So make sure you're eating your meats and veggies. I want all of you to make it."
With that, the team split up, grabbing their respective team bags before heading out. TJ removed his bandages from his hands and tossed them in the bag with more for than necessary. Great. Something else to worry about, right when he was having a good day.
"Something the matter, dude?" CJ asked him.
"Everything," TJ said as they headed out together. "I'm not gonna make the cut. I'm the shortest person in here, and I probably weigh the least, too. I probably won't even make it to be considered for lightweights."
"It'll be okay. I'm sure you'll make it in. Kevin would have to be crazy to not let you in," said CJ. "You're one of the best fighters in here."
"That won't mean much when I have to stand up to the rules," he said. "Maybe if I pig out over the next couple of days I could put on a few pounds, maybe just barely make it in."
"Maybe. But you shouldn't do that. Bingeing isn't good for you," said CJ.
"Yeah. . .If I don't make it, promise to give the other teams hell for me?"
"Promise," she said just as the bus drove up.
#
On Tuesday, it was harder to brush aside the whispers of other students when it was paired with the occasional pointing in his direction. TJ didn't want to give them the attention they didn't deserve, but it was starting to get annoying by second period. Austin was still doing his best to give him the most heated glare he could through his black eye.
Turning the corner, he overheard a few of the words being spread between the other students.
". . . Did you see the way he wailed on Austin last Saturday?"
". . .Fuckin' psycho, man. . "
"How much you wanna bet he owns a gun"
He kept ignoring them, not giving them the satisfaction of seeing him upset or uncomfortable. He didn't want to get involved in the ugly world of middle school gossip. The sooner the day was over, the better. But it wasn't even halfway through yet. He scratched his heat, still somewhat not used to not constantly wearing a hat.
His old one was safely on his dresser, away from where it could be further damaged. Maybe he should get another hat if it was bothering him so much. His thoughts were interrupted when he was shoved into the lockers and what he was carrying was kicked across the hallway. He didn't have to look up to see that it was Austin and his lackies that did it, and were laughing as if it was the funniest thig they've ever seen.
With the hallway crowd thinning, it was easy enough to pick his books and papers up without them getting stepped on. At least there weren't a lot of people around to see how dumb he looked on the hallway floor getting his stuff of the ground.
Pathetic
#
None of them showed up at the library. TJ would say that he was surprised but that would be a lie. He was generous, waiting for over an hour for one of the others to appear, giving them the benefit of the doubt, but an hour passed, and he was still sitting at an empty table, his already shortened patience wearing thin.
Fine.
'Alright. I'll make the damn board. I'll make the best damn board they've ever seen,' he thought. He grabbed his bag and headed towards the door.
He already did so much for this project, at least 60% of it when it there were three other people who all thought they were too good to work on it. Fine.
Fucking fine.
If he was doing 70% of the work, he was going to be damn sure he got 70% of the grade.
#
Sipping on a vanilla milkshake, TJ looked at one of the pictures that were being passed around the booth at Kelsos. There were other pictures on the table, all of that abandoned building he explored with Butch and Randall. He was starting to get in the mood to look around for more abandoned places to explore. He needed more practice drawing backgrounds.
"This one is my favorite," Randall said, tapping on one photo of the large ballroom they found. "I love the lighting in this one. You can see what's left of the color on the windows. And this one is a great shot of the flooring, or what's left of it, and the staircase in the background."
'Wow, these are great pictures," said Menlo. "To think you were wasting this talent on snooping around the playground."
"Better late than never," he said. "We should find another place to go to. I gotta take more pictures like this."
"Mm-hmm. I think there's an abandoned factory on the edge of town somewhere," said TJ. "Maybe Colten knows some place, I'll ask him. Can I get a copy of this one?"
"Sure."
The sound of a straw sipping from an empty cup caught all their attention. They turned to Ashley, who looked less than happy with her eyes on the table and an annoyed expression on her face.
"Something wrong, Ashley?" CJ asked.
"Oh, um, it's nothing. Just something stupid I shouldn't be thinking about anyways," she mumbled.
"It's gotta be something important if it's bothering you this much," said CJ.
"I was in the bathroom and the other Ashley's were in there, too, and they were making fun of me," said Ashley. "I know I should just ignore it, but it still bothers me."
"Ugh, bullying. Can't stand it," CJ said. "They just hate it that you're doing just fine without 'em! You don't need their little group and that burns them on the inside, so they gotta make you feel like crap to make themselves feel better."
"She's right. The more you're fine without them, the more they'll hate it," said Menlo. "Simple middle schooler clique psychology. I hate to say it, but this is one of the times you'll just have to ignore."
"Or, OR!" Randall said.
"Or?" Ashley asked.
"We get some dirt on them and use it to get them to leave you alone," he suggested. "You'd be surprised what you can get people to do with a little blackmail."
"Nah, you don't want to scoop to their level," said TJ.
"The hell I don't. You think you can get some dirt on them, Weems?"
"Sure. Everyone has their dirt they want to hide. It hasn't been that long since I spied on other people," said Randall. "Give me until the end of next week. I'll find something."
"Great."
None of them protested against it. TJ was going to, but he was stopped when he remembered what he was planning for his German class project. What with everything that was happening, a little revenge sounded good right about now, and all the 'being the bigger person' speeches in the world wasn't enough to stop him or make him stop anyone else. He just didn't have the energy to be morally upright.
#
As practice continued on, the kickboxers were called over to the edge of the gym to get their height and weight checked for what weight class they would be in. TJ did his best to ignore it all, and focused on beating the crap on the bag hanging in front of him. Why bother getting his hopes up for something that he know wasn't going to happen?
"I'm a lightweight," CJ said when she came over.
"Congratulations. Try not to hurt the opponents too much," said TJ.
"No promises."
"Detweiler!" Kevin called from the other side of the gym. TJ sighed.
"Hey, don't worry. You never know. You might just make it in," said CJ.
"Not gonna hold my breath. . ."
He walked over to where Kevin and another coach were waiting with a clipboard in hand. He pulled off his gloves and set them aside before standing next to the wall where they checked his height. After that was marked down, he stepped onto the scale and watched them adjust the little black bars.
"Lemme guess, I'm too short, right?" he said.
"I'm sorry, dude. If it was up to me, I'd have you in the ring with everyone else," said Kevin. "You really are one of my best fighters in here, but we have to work within regulations."
"It's fine. I knew I wasn't gonna make it," TJ said. "It's not like I had my hopes up or anything."
"Look, I know you can't compete, but I'd really like it if you helped me train the others," said Kevin. "You're great at this, kid. It's not that we don't think you wouldn't last in the ring; strength isn't the issue here."
"Yeah, I'll help," said TJ. "I'm just disappointed. All this training for nothing. . ."
"It's not for nothing, I promise. There's always next year," he said. "How about you take the rest of practice off? We aren't doing anything but the basics today, anyways."
TJ nodded and picked up his gloves. He waved goodbye to CJ before grabbing his gym back and heading out, opting for the long walk home than a bus ride.
Too short. It's not like he wasn't aware that the men in his family tended to be short overall, and if his father was anything to go by, he wasn't going to be very tall at all. But not being the height of a fourth grader would be nice. He should've had a growth spurt by now. 'It'll happen any day now you'll see, son' his parents keep saying. It sure seemed to be taking it's time.
At least it was a Friday. He has the whole weekend to mope about it. Maybe lock himself in his room and listen to music all weekend. And binge on candy, too.
"Detweiler, what are you doing out here?"
He turned and saw Colten coming out of the shop he just passed with a shopping bag in hand.
"I got out of kickboxing early," he said. "I decided to walk home today. What are you here for?"
"Buying some books that finally came in," he said. "I'm heading home for the night. You wanna come over?"
"Maybe tomorrow. I kinda want to call it an early night," said TJ.
"Alright. See you tomorrow, Detweiler."
TJ took a few steps away before stopping. Spending the rest of the night in his room wouldn't really make him feel better, would it?
"You know what, I take it back," he said. He turned and caught up with Colten. "I'll go over to your place."
They ended up in Coltens room. With some music on in the background, cigarette smoke floated up to the ceiling and out of the room as they smoked away the stress on their shoulders. TJ wondered how anyone would read the number of books that lined one of the walls, but then again, he had more comics than what would be considered normal. Everyone had their hobbies.
"You read all those?" TJ asked.
"Mm-hmm. At least twice," said Colten. "You can forget about how shit the world can be for a few hours with a good enough book. I swear, writers are like magicians with the things they can write."
"I can't imagine reading all those. You basically have a library in your room."
"Guess you can say that."
"Hey, my and a couple of my other friend were wondering if you knew a couple of abandoned places around town. We broke into one abandoned house just to see what it looked like inside and we got some good pictures from it. I'm using some of them for my comic."
"So you think just 'cause I'm goth I hang around creepy old abandoned buildings?" Colten asked.
"N-No, I just thought that maybe you'd know some place. . ."
"Relax, it's fine. Um. . .There's an abandoned factory outside of town. A couple of them actually. . .There's an old neighborhood filled with houses that are breaking down. I don't think a lot of people know about that place because the road to it is worn down. If you go far enough into the woods there's a few houses hidden out there," he said. "There's actually a lot of abandoned places around this town. There might be an old train station, but I never went inside. I'll write down where you can find them before you head out."
"Thanks. You wanna come?"
"Nah. Parents are coming home tomorrow. I have to be here for a dinner and make us look like a functioning family," said Colten. "I'm trying to figure out if it's better or worse to smoke a lot now to make up for what I won't be able to this weekend."
"Probably worse. You'll crave more while they're here, and there would be a stronger smell they could find."
"Good point. It's gonna be hard, though. I might have to sneak out at night just to get away from it all."
"You sneak out a lot?"
"Mm-hmm. I dunno if you can call it sneaking out if your parents aren't even there to stop you, but yeah, I go out late sometimes," said Colten. "The town is nice and quiet at night, like you wouldn't believe. It almost calms my anxiety as much as these cigarettes."
He stubbed the remains of his cigarette out on an ash tray that was sat between the two of them. He looked at his pack. About half left.
"Can I ask what caused your anxiety?" TJ asked.
"Me and my brother, we used to travel with our parents as they worked. They go all over the place. One week we could be in New York with our mom. The next we could be in California with our dad. Then to Florida with mom, and to DC with dad. We never had one place where we just stayed and lived, and we were homeschooled. All that moving, never having a constant place to stay and not knowing where you would be in 12 hours really does a number on a little kid," he explained. "I know it sounds like I'm just complaining, because people would love to travel around that much, but to a 5 or 6 or 7 year old, it's not so great. If there's anything that I learned is that little kids need something to stay the same. Without it, they're on edge about when things are going to change again. And then we finally moved here a few years ago. . .I still wonder when is the day going to come that we're uprooted again, and that turned to anxiety, which needed pills, and here I am."
"I don't think that's complaining. Everyone has what they can and can't handle," TJ said. "It might now be the best way to deal with it, but you found what calms you down."
"Mmm."
They sat in calm and comfortable silence, listening to the music. From outside his window, they could see that it was starting to rain. Fitting. There was the sound of a car pulling up, and Colten groaned.
"That's gotta be my parents. Here, get rid of these for me, will you?" Colten handed him the half empty pack of cigarettes.
"Okay, I'll see you later, I guess."
Colten walked him to the front door where his parents were just walking up the driveway. TJ pulled out a jacket from his bag and started on his way home. Once home, he patted Sasha on the head and went up to his room. He took of the pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He's supposed to get rid of these. It's not like he was a hardcore smoker. He only smoked, like, what? Three times.
But it would be kind of waste just to throw them out, wouldn't it?