Chapter 4 – The Price of an Impulse War
"Remember those two guys that we broke up from fighting in the hall?" John asked in a low whisper, not loud enough for anyone else in their classroom to hear. The class around them was still talking because Mr. Myers, the Algebra 2 teacher, still hadn't made it back from a lunch meeting. The loud roars tearing through the air as it was coming from everyone's mouth, made Luka and John both have to lean towards the other just to hear.
"Yeah. I must have really scared that Peter guy," Luka said, wincing apologetically, but he did momentarily touch his fingertips to the side of his head in remembrance. John smiled, shaking his head, and he leaned closer in. Both pairs of eyes were facing the front of the room, the only evidence that they were actually talking existing in their massive leans towards the other man.
"I saw him this morning. Eyes wandering all over the place," John laughed, and Luka's eyebrows dropped sympathetically. "But, they seemed to be fighting about Ricky's little sister," he continued once his laugh had sobered up, "she's like 14." John shrugged.
"What happened for them to fight like that?" Luka asked, furrowing his eyebrows in curiosity. He remembered that Peter could throw a good punch, and probably an even better one if he had a target. He was certain that Peter was the one getting punched first, Ricky was much smaller than Luka himself, and he almost went down with one punch.
"I guess Peter got Ricky's little sister, you know? He got her a little mature for her age, if you know what I mean," John's voice was still quiet, but it was ever changing. Luka's look turned to confusion, shaking his head to convey that he didn't understand what John meant. "He got her pregnant," John said quietly through clenched teeth.
"Oh," Luka laughed at himself while shaking his head. "Wow, 14. That's pretty young," Luka's eyebrow arched as he glanced around the room. No one else in the room was even taking interest in their conversation, but with the way their school seemed to work everyone else probably already knew anyway.
"Yeah, that is young. But after hearing that I was kind of glad that you scared him. Ricky's just a little disappointed that you didn't throw a sucker punch into Peter's face," John shook his head. His shoes squeaked on the floor as he dragged his foot across the tile. He tapped his hand against the desktop in front of him, his thoughts immediately flying to Sam and the aforementioned father.
"I hate it when that happens. How old is Peter? 17? 18?" Luka asked, lifting his hand and pressing it across his forehead. John shook his head, glancing towards Luka out of the corner of his eye.
"He's like, 19. That's illegal here," John said, squinting to think back on the studied laws. Luka nodded in agreement, before pursing his lips. He then shook his head, almost as though he was challenging John's knowledge.
"It's not illegal if the younger party wants it, you know? If the cops are called, it isn't considered statutory rape unless they say that they didn't want it," his accent made the words a little more difficult for John to understand than usual, but he and Luka had been friends for a while and he was getting used to the accent. Luka sighed tiredly. He was tired of waiting for something to do in that class.
"Sorry I'm late," Mr. Myers announced walking into the classroom. The 6'0" tall teacher waved his hand apologetically, but his face said otherwise. His face showed that he was tired, and maybe even slightly frightened. "We found out that my wife's having triplets," he groaned, crushing the open book to the desk.
-
He sat in the cold, metal bleachers over looking the soccer field, and he watched his little brothers practice with, what he considered, a rather talented team. He had considered traveling the distance to the top of the bleachers, but then reconsidered it when the light breeze blew past him. He had already warmed the seat that he was sitting in.
Michael kicked the soccer ball down the field, sending it further than Luka had ever seen him send it, but his kick was ignored as the coach pointed an angry finger at Ivan and motioned him towards him. Luka perked up, gazing at Ivan in complete and utter concern. He hurried to his feet, knowing that Ivan could more than likely explode at any given moment.
Ivan seemed to remain calm, but he passed an angry glare at Michael. Luka's gaze frantically shifted between his two little brothers, and he breathed out a worried breath. Ivan's face grew cold, and he glanced around the area, his eyes landing on Luka and he immediately straightened up.
Ivan ran back onto the field, accepting Michael's friendly pat, and it gave Luka the confirmation that it was okay to sit. His seat was cold when he sat back down on it. He shook his head, shifting into an even colder seat as he was searching for his old warm seat.
His eyes were fixed on his little brothers getting back into the practice, and he was caught off guard by the sound of footsteps clanging against the bleachers. The echo of boots crashing against the metal rang out in his ears, and they stopped when she sat down beside him. He glanced at the human figure that had sat down beside him, and smiled when he saw it was her.
"I was looking for you," she accused playfully, lifting her hand and resting it on his shoulder. Her fingertips brushed through the hair directly above his ear, and his eyes traced across the side of her face. "Is this where you've been?" she asked, glancing across the field.
"Yeah. I'm just watching my little brothers," he shrugged, gesturing to the green field. She nodded, noting that it had a good pedicure for a field. Her fingertips ran across the bump on his head, and he inhaled a deep breath to accompany his wince. Her eyes immediately narrowed in his direction.
"What?" she asked, shaking her head. Her fingertips immediately stopped gliding through his hair, and she pressed two fingers against his head. "What the hell happened to you?" she asked, her face mirroring the panic in her voice.
"I just got hit yesterday breaking up a fight. I'm okay," he insisted, glancing at the field. He saw her narrow her eyes at him in the corner of his eye, and his head whipped back towards her. "Don't look at me like that," he told her, laughing in the back of his throat.
"Like what?" she asked, feigning innocence. He lifted a hand and patted her thigh.
"Like you don't believe me. John and I broke up those two guys fighting in the hall. When the one guy hit me, I must admit that I almost clobbered him," he almost laughed, instead, he bit his bottom lip to not laugh at the way he disgusted himself the day before.
"Clobbered?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. He looked at her with the same look, almost playfully mocking her. She shook her head at his look, and withdrew her hand back to her lap. She pushed her palms together and rested them between her knees, pressing her knees together to collect warmth in her hands.
"Yeah, you know? Punched. I had that guy up against the locker, and I was so close to doing it before I realized that it was exactly what we had left Croatia for. We left Croatia to get away from the fighting. I just don't think that I want to be a part of that here," he said, shaking his head. She smiled sympathetically. He gave her a blank stare, "don't do that."
"Okay. What do you want me to do? Geez," she replied defensively. She lifted her hands and slammed her palms against her thighs, a slight desperation obvious in her glance towards him. He smirked, and reached over, engulfing her hands in his one hand.
"Just keep doing what you usually do. I like you that way. Except maybe a little bit more, I don't know," he shrugged, sliding a little closer to her, "kissing and stuff." He shrugged with a smile. She laughed in the back of her throat, shaking her head.
"Come on. I can't believe that you just sold me on that," she sighed, rolling her eyes. He squeezed her hand, leaning towards her and pressing his lips into hers and her hand found its way to his cheek. He slipped his arm behind her and braced himself on his arm. Pulling back, he smiled beneath her fingertips.
"That just keeps getting better," he said softly, throwing his leg over the bleacher seat and facing her. He placed his hand beneath his chin, and his elbow met his propped knee. He smiled, reaching his other hand out and rubbing her upper arm.
"It's only happened like 8 times," she said, shaking her head with squinted eyes. He laughed, shaking his head too.
"Yes, but in 3 days," he reasoned, "and it's 23 times, but who's counting?" He smiled sheepishly, his gaze turning away from her and checking on his little brothers, more importantly, checking on Ivan. He panicked, and he quickly stood up.
Ivan hit the ground face first, and he quickly pushed himself up. His jaw clenched and he threw a punch in the direction of the kid who'd slide tackled him. The kid hit the ground, and Ivan jumped on top of him, pulling a fist back to punch the kid.
His flying hand was caught by Luka, who'd sprinted to his little brother at the sight of his arm whirling back. Luka tightened his grasp around Ivan's closed fist, and he pulled him up. Ivan looked at Luka angrily and charged at him, prepared to punch him in the gut.
"Ivan! Stop it!" Luka yelled, blocking Ivan's fist from hitting him in the gut. He gathered Ivan in his arms, and threw him over his shoulder. He carried him off of the field, all the while getting punched in the back. "Come on, Michael. I don't want you walking home alone," Luka said, wincing when he got punched in the shoulder blade.
Luka walked quickly through the gate and started to walk down the sidewalk to get to their house, Michael walking slightly in front of Sam. She'd grabbed his shoulder and suggested to him to just walk behind so he didn't get hit too. Although, with every punch that Ivan threw into Luka's back, she winced, having no other choice but to look in that direction.
Luka walked into his house, walked into Ivan and Michael's room, and threw Ivan onto his bed; he immediately walked out, shutting the door hard behind him. He walked back into the living room to find Michael tense and silent, obviously embarrassed by what his little brother had just done. Luka sat down beside him, and ruffled the hair on Michael's head.
"You know, I thought that the doctor's had gotten that under control, too," he said, smiling at Michael sympathetically. Sam quietly set Ivan and Luka's bags on the floor beside the couch, and she crossed her arms to make her way back to the doorframe. Michael looked over at Luka with his eyes glazed over.
"I didn't like the way that he just kept hitting you," Michael agreed, shaking his head. Sam watched Luka with his little brother from the doorway. She hadn't really had the chance to watch him with his little brothers, but she had spent little time with them.
"I'd rather it be me than you, or that other kid. He used to do that to you when he was little. I'm just glad that nobody got hurt," he smiled. "Why don't you play some video games before mom and dad get home from work?" he suggested to Michael, glancing at Sam in the doorway.
"Okay," he nodded. Luka watched Michael pass him and grab the controller before sitting on the floor in front of the TV. He turned to Sam, and he smiled. He stood from the couch, and walked towards her. He released an exaggerated sigh and raised his eyebrows.
"Can I talk to you outside, please?" he asked her. She had placed a hand on his arm, and she nodded to answer his question. She led him out of the front door, and the door gently shut behind them. He leaned back against the cement railing on their stoop, his hands pressing firmly against the railing, and she did the same with her arms folded.
"Is he going to be okay?" she asked sincerely.
"I handled it the best way I could," he shrugged, looking over at her. Her head went as high as the top of his shoulder, and he lifted the hand closest to her to drag his hand through her hair. "I'm sorry that you had to see that. I wasn't expecting it. It hasn't happened in a long time," he shook his head.
"Are you going to be okay?" she asked, reaching her hand up and brushing it across his back as though she was checking for any more bumps. He nodded, but still noticeably winced when her fingertips grazed over his shoulder blade. She furrowed her eyebrows, reaching her other hand around and lifting up the back of his shirt.
She slipped her hand up in the back of his shirt, raising it higher to look at his back. There was a big red spot across his shoulder, and she grazed her fingertips across the area again. He winced again, the added combination of her fingertips grazing the new bruise and the breeze whipping across his exposed back skin.
"It's just a bruise. It'll go away," he said softly, peering at her over his shoulder. Her fingertips slid down his back as she dropped his shirt, and he turned beneath her touch, making her fingertips slid across his sides. "I'm guessing that you need to get home," he smiled.
"Yeah, I probably do," she smiled the same as him. Her hand drew back from him, and he pressed his lips to hers before she could turn away. Pulling back, he lightly kissed her again before turning back into his house. She pushed her fingertips to her lips before disappearing towards her house.
-
There was a light knock on the heavy wooden door, interrupting the history of American government. Everyone was relieved for the interruption, the evidence resting in the sighs being released into the air around the room. A good sum of books being slammed quickly followed behind the sighs.
Mr. Mac's feet shuffled against the tile as he walked towards the door, and he opened the door as reluctantly as anyone ever could. The class fell silent as the echoing noises of a static voice flaked out of an intercom. Mr. Mac stood awkwardly, glancing back into the classroom full of students.
"Can I help you, Officer?" his voice trembled slightly in the direction of the cause of his discomfort. Mr. Mac seemed too troubled for something the police more than likely knew nothing about, but Luka's glance gave him the chance to catch the officer peeking into the room.
"Is a one, Peter Crackin present in your class?" the officer asked, not totally sure of what this young man looked like. Luka froze, nervously glancing at Peter, catching him fidget against the desk and amongst the drowning crowd. Luka's heart seemed to stop in fear for this guy who he'd almost hit himself, and Sam noticed his discomfort. She reached out and placed a comforting hand on his upper arm.
"Yes – yes, I think that he is," Mr. Mac sighed, glancing back into his classroom full of students, "Crackin! Get up here!" Mr. Mac's discomfort shifted into Peter's discomfort. Peter knew what it was about, and he didn't know that anyone else in the room did, but Luka did too. As Peter passed him, Luka offered an apologetic smile.
"Are you okay, Luka?" Sam asked, furrowing her eyebrows in his direction. His eyes tore away from Peter and he nodded, covering her hand with his.
"Of course. I'm fine," he feigned, giving her hand a squeeze. Her fingertips slid from his arm as her eyes looked at him with question. "I'm fine. I am. I'm really fine. Thanks," he smiled sincerely, his insisting the thanks to her.
"You wouldn't happen to know what's going on, do you?" she asked in a low voice, slightly accusingly. His lips parted defensively before he relented, and his body collapsed in his seat.
He nodded sheepishly, "yes. It's so very complicated, and I'd prefer to tell you later." She squinted at him, pondering his request. Her eyes searched through his, and she hesitantly nodded.
"Okay, but you better tell me the truth about your head then," she said, twisting her jaw. He nodded, and both of them struggled to get a peek of what was going on outside. Next thing Luka saw was a piece of folded up paper being flashed at Peter, and the jingling of metal handcuffs went silent as they clicked around Peter's wrists. Luka noticeably winced, glancing back Sam nervously.