Page 5 of We're At It Again

“Save it, Austin.”

With a clenched jaw and fists balled at my sides, I turned away. My steps were quick and determined as I walked past the dispersing crowd. The frustration churned inside me like a storm, and I couldn’t bear to face Austin.

?

For most of the day, I maneuvered from class to class, feeling like one of those out-of-body experiences. I was aware, but my state of mind had drifted into space, far away from the present reality. I didn’t remember changing for gym, but as my mind lit up in the darkness, I found myself on the school field in my casual cheer shirt and gym shorts. My mind opened like a blossoming flower, Maya’s arms swinging, waking me from my mental hibernation.

“Finally, I was debating whether to slap you.”

My heart felt heavy, but the slight exhale lightened the burden.

“Sorry, I have just had a lot on my mind.”

“What happened with Austin? Did he get into a lot of trouble?”

I would love to know that too.

“I have no idea. We’re not speaking.”

We watched with vast interest as he dribbled a soccer ball back and forth between his friends. His attitude was carefree, as if our mild disagreement didn’t happen. Hudson stood a few feet away with his friend. An unlit cigarette dangled from his lips.

“Wilder, where is your gym gear?” Coach Gregory’s voice boomed through the lengthy field.

“I sprained an ankle.”

Coach walked up to him and plucked the cigarette from his lips. He delivered a warning glare.

“It’s because he can barely kick a ball, coach.” Austin said with an arrogant smirk. His mindless buddies laughed at his comment. “He has no aim.”

Hudson chuckled and glanced at the soccer ball at his feet. Before I even had time to blink, he kicked the ball with brute force. It collided with the side of Austin’s head. So much for a sprained ankle.

“How’s that for aim?”

Austin lunged for him. Round 3. Coach stood between them with his hands on each of their chests, a disapproving look on his face.

“I had enough of your drama last year.” He spoke. “The two of you need to grow up.”

It was like watching a showdown between two male lions challenging for the alpha title. Austin was the one to break the intense eye contact and stalked back to his buddies. I debated whether to comfort him but was adamant about giving him the cold shoulder. Whispers captured my attention as a few cheerleading teammates gathered in an intimate circle, directing their gazes at Hudson before turning back to each other with girlish giggles. He seemed unaware, as he was back to discussing with his friend. I glanced at Maya as if she could clarify the situation, but she seemed just as confused. The male ego was an unsolvable mystery.

?

4

HUDSON

MY FATHER WOULD TELL ME THAT HATRED WAS A COWARDLY MAN’S BURDEN. He had always been one to choose kindness over hatred, which made me wonder how I became the exact opposite. I suffered an ongoing war with my inner demons. The anger often took control of me, as if I was not strong enough to push the emotion back, but I sometimes wondered if I bothered to fight it or if I enjoyed the consuming rage. It’s better to feel anger than feel nothing at all.

As I arrived home, I made a beeline for the garage, my usual after-school hangout. My father and I often spent our time there if we were not at his shop. He was a local mechanic and owned a small auto repair store. He had a talent for engines and mechanical engineering. A talent I am proud to say he passed down to me. For as long as I can remember, we spent our weekends working on beat-up cars he would find in the scrap yards. He would bring them home and teach me everything he knew. It used to drive my mom insane every time he brought home junk, but she let it slide because she knew it made him happy and I loved it just as much. He would tell me you could always fix something broken. You just needed to put your time into it.

I entered the garage and felt at ease. This was my haven. My dad’s head appeared from under the hood, his face covered in rust and oil splotches.

“I got a call from your principal.” He said as he rubbed his hands with the cloth he kept tucked into his overalls. “I thought I would only get one on the second day.”

“It was for a legitimate reason.” I said, avoiding eye contact.

“Punching someone is a legitimate reason?”

“If you met the guy, you would understand.”

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