"Better to die than to crawl." Newsies
School was miserable for Joe, which was a new, odd feeling for the boy. While he had never excelled quite as much as Frank in studies, he'd always been a willing and eager learner, and had special enthusiasm for History and Law. Unfortunately, Cathy had joined him in both those classes.
"Hey, Joe, how was your weekend?" Tony asked, grabbing a couple of books from the top of Joe's pile. Tony was also in Law.
"Fine. I can carry those." Joe made to grab them back and almost tripped while Tony looked at him with an unreadable expression. Frank and Tony were a lot alike, which is probably why they got on so well; they were both careful, responsible, and protective of Joe.
"You two have the whole house to yourself, right? Have any wild parties?" Tony grinned, making his dark eyes almost disappear. Joe smiled back, though his was timid. "You know I didn't."
They went around the corner and started down a new hallway. Joe groaned when he saw Frank and Cathy up ahead. His brother had carried her heavy Law book, the one Tony was holding for Joe, and gave it to Cathy, kissing her lightly.
"Hey, Tony, what do you think of her?" Joe nodded at Cathy, who had disappeared into the classroom.
"Cathy? I think she's a fox. It's nice to see Frank go out with someone after Callie, but if he didn't have her, you better bet every guy in the school would want her. Why? You have a crush?" Tony poked Joe in the ribs and the younger boy swatted him away.
"Yeah, a crush."He rolled his eyes: if only Tony knew. "She's…really tall."
"Nice to see that you're not all about the body, Joseph." The two ducked into the classroom just before the bell rang, causing both boys to smile with relief. They were notorious for being a few seconds late.
The class went smoothly, except for a few minutes before the end when Joe's cell phone, sitting as ever in his front pocket, vibrated. Glancing up at Mr. Murray, who led the class, Joe slid the phone out of his pocket and checked the text message.
ONE MORE TIME: YOU'LL REGRET STAYING IN MY WAY.
Joe sighed and ran a hand through his hair, a habit he'd picked up from Frank. He quickly texted back, managing to keep looking up at his teacher as he did so, HE'S MY BROTHER, BITCH. Cathy brought out the worst in him. He got so angry, imagining that thing with his brother.
After class, Joe waved goodbye to Tony and started down the hall, trying to hide the limp that was becoming more pronounced with every step. It was near the end of the day and the pain in his leg was starting to get bad, protesting to the strain that was put on it.
He was at his locker when a shadow literally loomed over him. Turning, arms already crossed, Joe raised an eyebrow at Brent Bishop, a Senior notorious for his hazing of Freshmen, muscles, and dim wit. "What's up, Brent?" He tried to keep his voice even, slamming his locker and trying to move out the door. He had gym last period, but had been excused from it since his injury. He just wanted to get home.
Predictably, his way was blocked. Joe sighed, wishing for his Law book back. It would make a good weapon. "I heard you're a cripple now, Hardy."
"Have been for a few months, Brent, but I wouldn't expect you to remember that. Limited space and all…." There was no way around the brawny boy and his two cronies. Joe was wondering, vaguely, why there always seemed to be two henchmen when he spotted Frank greeting Cathy down the hallway and smirked, knowing that Brent had not seen his brother and almost wishing the boy would punch him.
It had taken a few seconds to process the comment, but when he did Brent used a meaty hand to slam Joe against his locker, making him see stars. "I don't see no crutch. You must not be hurt that bad." The boy aimed a kick at his left leg, which bruised but didn't make Joe even wince, though he was clawing at the hand around his throat to release him.
Already people were crowding and an oddly silent circle formed around the four in front of the locker. Frank was looking straight at him…Joe flailed his body, but his arms had been pinned by the cronies and he could do little against the three boys, each of them outweighing him by a hundred pounds. Come on, Frank.
Brent looked at him, grinning, reveling in Joe's helplessness. "Guess I got the wrong leg." The boy brought his foot back and sent it crashing on Joe's injured leg, an inch below the knee.
Even Brent's choke hold could not entirely block Joe's scream of pain when his entire body arched, protesting, as red-hot fire flew from his leg. It felt broken, flaming, and cold as ice all at once. His face turning blue by now from lack of oxygen, Joe brought his other leg up as high as he could in his position and desperately kicked Brent before he laid down another blow.
Laughing at his feeble attempt, Brent kicked him again, drawing an "oh" from the crowd of kids. Through his pain, Joe looked for Frank and saw him walking away from the scene, disappearing down another hallway. What? He thought, knowing he must have seen wrong. The brothers would never walk away if one of them seemed to be in trouble. Ever.
At the moment, it was oxygen that he craved, even more than release from the pain. He couldn't take even the most shallow of breaths, and began to see spots of blackness that he knew from experience signified impending unconsciousness.
"Yo!" An angry voice called, and Brent was shoved aside, leaving Joe to fall on his bad leg, too out of breath to even cry out. He saw the vague outlines of Biff and Chet knocking the attackers out of the way. Within seconds, the three dispersed and the halls emptied; a bell had rung somewhere off in the distance.
"Breathe!" Someone ordered, and whacked him on the back, all Joe needed to begin coughing painfully, inhaling breaths of air as he did so. A different voice, said, scared, "Geeze, Joe." Biff. Joe was hauled into a sitting position where he leaned against a large shoulder, his right leg curled up to his chest.
"What'd he do?" Chet, sounding angrier that Joe could ever remember. "Did he kick you?" Joe nodded, his hand desperately clutching at his leg, willing the flames that had erupted in his knee to go away.
"Damnit!" Biff said, standing up, supporting Joe, then looking around, "I thought I saw Frank here…"
"He left." Joe panted, desperate to get the story out. "He saw me…he and Cathy…and he turned around and left."
"No, he didn't." Chet soothed, slipping his arm around Joe's shoulder so he was supported on both sides. "It must have been someone else."
"It was him." Joe insisted, tripping painfully. The bruise on his other leg was deep, and he couldn't put pressure on either leg, as neither would support him. He let out a moan of pain that sounded pathetic even to his own ears.
Biff easily put his arm under Joe, carrying him like a child. They both knew, from many painful, embarrassing experiences, that the fireman's carry would only irritate his leg further. "Sorry, man, but you needed to get out of here." Biff murmured, walking quickly until they reached the doors, where Chet suddenly stopped.
"I can cut, I only have shop." Biff explained. "Why don't you find Frank and tell him what happened? I'll take Joe home." The weight in his arms shifted as Joe passed into a sort of dissociative state to deal with the pain. "If he doesn't get better, I'll get him to the hospital, but I want to avoid that." Chet nodded, and Biff continued on, pushing open the doors.
"Joe, you need to eat more." Biff told his friend, loading Joe into the backseat of his car. "I worry about you, man." Joe didn't say anything, though he did nod curtly, a whimper escaping his throat. Biff's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.
He and Chet hadn't punched Brent, though Biff had seen red and was hot with rage by the time he got to Joe. Punching the boy, he knew, would only get him a detention, and he had seen, during his sprint down the hallway, a girl in the crowd, Amelia, who was a goody-two-shoes and would go to the administration as soon as the fight was over. When she told the story, Biff didn't want to come off as a bad guy.
But if they had been out of school….Biff honestly didn't know what he'd do. Seeing Joe curled up on the ground, in pain, more defenseless than he'd ever been, made Biff so angry, and when he got into that state, it wasn't easy to drag him out.
"You okay, Joe?" Biff asked, glancing in the rear view mirror at his best friend, who was cradling his swollen, bruised hand to his chest while his arm was looped around his leg. His expression was distant, unreadable, but at Biff's words he jumped.
"Yeah." Joe murmured, "Sorry." He was embarrassed, frustrated by his new, sudden lack of strength and his inability to protect himself.
"Don't be. Brent's a jerk. I'm just glad we got there in time. It looked like you were about to pass out."
Joe's expression turned sour and he looked down, making a fist with his good hand. "Frank was there. He saw me. And he left." His tone was so hurt, betrayed, that Biff felt his heart break at the sound of it. "Why would he leave me?"
"He didn't, Joe, Frank wouldn't do that." He made sure he had eye contact with Joe before he continued, "I know I don't know much about school or anything, but I know this much is true, your brother loves you, man." Frank doted on his younger brother, and was as taken in as anyone else by Joe's charm and strength and bravery. But even as Biff said the words, he doubted them. Because he did remember seeing, as he flew down the hallway, a tall, dark-haired boy being led away by an equally tall, grinning girl.
Poor, poor Joe. Just a note: Yeah, Frank's a little out of character, but he'll get better. He really does love Joe. He just has no idea how much of a witch Cathy is. He thinks she's perfect.
Get it? Got it? Good. Please review.