I feel alive for the first time in days. I keep my legs pumping…faster and harder…running through the burning in my lungs. I know Brittany will be upset when she finds out I took off. And coach Sylvester will probably send the cops after me or at least suspend me. And when everyone notices I don't show at glee club, Quinn will no doubt tell them I wigged on her earlier. Brittany will probably skip too to look for me.
I run until the Lima Valley Mall comes into my view. It stops me in my tracks. Sure, it's daylight. But it's still the scariest place in the world to me. I feel my car keys in the pocket of my jeans. I don't remember putting them there, and I don't remember why I ran this way. It's time to start moving on, I guess, and this is a good place to start. I walk through the parking lot to the lower back lot where Brittany and I were parked that night. My lungs are seized from the cold air, so every step is a challenge. Every man in a hoodie makes me nervous.
There's only a few cars in the back lot, my old black Subaru sitting untouched since I parked it there. They cleaned the snow since then, which I'm thankful for. I remember it being splattered with blood. I stare hard at the spot Brittany and I were attacked. No doubt hundreds of people have walked past it by now, and somehow it has me frozen. It's like watching an instant replay of that night, the images are fresh in my mind, the sounds of Brittany's screams and whimpers give me goose bumps. I slam my fist down on the trunk of my car, effectively adding to the slew of dents it's already sporting. We were so damn close to my car…four damn spots away. If I had walked faster or left earlier or parked by the food court instead of the back lot none of this would've ever happened. I could've spared Brittany all this pain if I had just made better decisions, or at least fought back. This is all my fault.
I get into the car and start it. It hesitates from the days of bitter cold weather. Brittany's iPod and baby blue beanie lay in the passenger seat. I pick up the hat as my car warms up and hold it to my face, taking in her scent. She's probably getting ready for study period, which we spend together religiously every day, whether it be in the choir room or the locker room or the auditorium, most times just for an intense make out session. I'm sure she's looking for me. I feel guilty for leaving…for making her deal with this first day back all on her own. But something about Quinn's comments made me feel so vulnerable, like everyone could see what I was thinking. I hate her now for making me leave my girlfriend. I hate her for showing me how weak I really am.
I drive around town for what seems like hours, trying to clear my head, trying to find some answers. I end up where I always do when I need to think; the gym.
Brittany and I signed up for gym memberships together about a year ago to stay in shape for cheering, but since we quit the squad she hasn't had much interest. She doesn't really need it either, her body has always been fierce. I still don't know where she learned to dance the way she does.
I change into the workout clothes I keep in my trunk and head straight for the punching bag. Usually I just run on the treadmill and do a few crunches, but the anger boiling up in me is telling me I need to hit something. I put my fists up and let it simmer to the surface, my breathing already getting heavier before I even make a move.
"You may want to put some gloves on," a voice approached me, stopping me in my tracks. I turn toward it, not dropping my fists. I open my mouth to reply but when I see her, no words come out. She's tall, tan and perfectly toned. She's sporting a green sports bra and track pants, her hair tied and hidden behind a sweated bandana.
"Um…I'm good," I choke out, still looking at her. Stop it! I have a girlfriend…a perfect girlfriend at that. I just wish I had a body like this girl. I turn my attention away from her and take a ferocious swing at the bag, doubling over in pain as soon as it makes impact.
"New at this?" she laughs.
"Yeah well don't get me wrong, I can hold my own in a fight, this thing just must be filled with fucking rocks," I respond, grinding my teeth from the pain. She kneels next to me, handing me the padded fingerless gloves she was just wearing.
"How about I give you a few pointers?" she offers. I slide the gloves onto my hands and stand back up facing the bag. She takes both my arms and positions them so my right fist is slightly above my left, and takes her place behind the bag, holding it from the sides.
"Now give me a right," she says. I hurl my right fist forward, colliding with the bag.
"I hardly felt that. More," she demands. Who is this chick? I slam my fist into the bag harder.
"Come on don't be a pussy," she says, and my mind goes blank with white hot rage. I clench my jaw and wail on the bag as hard as I can with both hands until she loses her balance.
"Woah, woah okay! That's better! What the hell set you off?" she asks.
"Don't call me a pussy," I grumble, wiping the sweat off my forehead with my forearm.
"The only reason you would get so mad about me calling you one is you actually believe you are one. So what are you running from?" she asks, leaning back on her elbows. The fury comes back tenfold, and I launch down at her, pulling her up by the straps of her sports bra.
"Listen, butch, I don't need you to teach me how to fight or any of your psycho babble bullshit okay? I've got enough crap on my plate right now," I hiss at her. She grabs my arms and thrusts her knees into my stomach, effectively flipping me over her and onto my back. The impact sucks the breath right out of me. As I lay there winded, she crawls over and leans on top of me.
"Well if you don't need any pointers than maybe you and I should fight. Meet me at the old toy factory downtown tonight at eight. Don't bring anybody with you," she warns me. She pulls her gloves off my hands and leaves me there, wondering what the hell just happened. I know she's right...I freaked because the things she said are things I think about myself, and even worse, things I'm sure Brittany now thinks about me too.
I sit up, dizzy and still catching my breath. The sane part of me is telling me this is stupid, that Brittany would never be okay with violence and that I should just go see her when she gets out of school and act like this never happened. But the part of my brain buzzing off this adrenaline high tells me this is just what I've been waiting for, an opportunity to remind myself I'm not a wuss and that I can fight to survive and protect the girl I love.