Page 17 of Dmitri

“You gonna throw that back or what?” the taller one asks.

Getting up hurts. My mom kicked me in the ribs pretty hard yesterday. Without saying a word, I grab the ball and throw it as hard as I can.

In the opposite direction of these two assholes.

“Motherfucker.” The taller one storms off after it.

The shorter one looks furious. “What’s your fucking problem, dickhead?”

I have too many to count.

They both look like they’re my age—maybe thirteen or something.

“I’m talking to you,” the shorter one stalks over. “The fuck is your problem?”

I square up, spoiling for a fight. I’m tired. I hurt. And I’m angry that no one sees me. Not even these two shitheads can see me. I’m just a weirdo in their way who pulled a dick move.

He pushes me against the fence.

My back hurts because I slept in my closet last night.

“Knox, leave him alone.” The taller kid makes his way over to us with the basketball resting on his hip. “He’s not worth it.”

“He needs a fucking lesson in manners.”

I roll my shoulders back. “You think you can give me one?”

“Fuck right I can.” Knox swings out and I block him.

Putting all my weight into it, I barrel into the kid and tackle him to the ground. I don’t even know why I’m pickingthis fight. I don’t understand why I want to smash someone up when I know how much it sucks to get beat on.

But I swing fists anyway.

Knox doesn’t stay down long. We toss and tumble, punching and kicking, until the tall kid breaks us apart. “You two done now?” he asks like he’s in fucking charge.

I wipe my bloody mouth with the back of my hand. Tears fill my eyes and I have no clue why. I’m just so fucking angry and all these emotions rise to the surface and need a way out.

“Yeah. We’re done.” Knox swipes his nose. I clocked him pretty good and he’s bleeding like me.

“Good. Come on. Let’s play ball.” The tall kid walks away from both of us, and that’s when I notice Knox has an old bruise on his arm. It looks like a handprint.

Without thinking, I lift my shirt up to my wipe face off with it.

Knox looks down and sees the big bruise on my ribs.

We stare at each other for a long time. Long enough for the tall kid to holler, “You two numbnuts playing ball or what?”

Knox glares at me a little longer and I stare at him with what I’m sure are soulless eyes. I don’t know how to feel anything besides the short bursts of rage I sometimes get.

“Yeah,” he says and walks off.

I watch, still trying to catch my breath. My hands shake. I want to throw up my chips. I’m still thirsty.

Knox calls out over his shoulder, “Are your legs broke, asshole? Come on. Time to play ball.”

I trip on his words. I just beat him up, and now he wants me to play basketball with them? These two assholes must be more fucked in the head than I am.

“What’s your name?” the tall one asks once I make my way over to the court.

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