The last two hours of that day’s
schooling dragged pitifully out, so much so that when the bell signalled
school’s end, the air was electric with excitement. Nathan Johnson was to be taught a lesson he would never forget.
With
school finished, David began the walk home. Usually, there were only one or two
people who followed the same trek around the block as he did. With today being
a Thursday, it meant that there was football training at four-thirty, and thus,
a few additions to the normal could be seen fluttering about. But David wasn’t
fool enough to think that all of
these extra people had any personal stake in football.
A
fairly large group of kids were heading in the direction of Tyson Maloney’s
grandmother’s place to ready themselves for training. It was a regular stop for
Tyson, whose grandmother tolerated the friends he dragged around with him. David
trailed behind this first group by a few metres, for Tyson did not hold him in
high regard. He walked in the middle of the group, towering like a colossus
over most of his underlings because of the enormity in age difference.
These
boys were tagging behind a very doomed Nathan Johnson. His walk was not the
same confident march that had seen him into the schoolyard that morning, but
rather the dawdle of a man about to be strung up in the gallows. Though David
couldn’t see Nathan’s features clearly from the distance he was behind him, it
was certain that by the way he aimlessly wandered that he expected something to
happen. Nobody would be foolish enough to pick the bully out of the playground
and expect to get away with it, would they?
During
those last two agonising hours at school, no fear touched Nathan’s face. He was
jovial, calm… and, for probably the only time in his life… friendly. David had
to admit that he felt a twitch of guilt in his heart watching him in those last
two hours, knowing that come school’s end, Nathan was going to get hurt. As
much as he wanted to alert him of what was coming, David knew to do so would
imperil himself, but something Nathan portrayed in his persona told David that
he knew what was coming and he thought it was no problem at all.
So
there he was, trailing with an overwhelming sense of guilt some metres behind
Tyson and his thugs, who were trailing behind Nathan at a similar distance
until they came to the vacant lot that had once been a park. It was here that
Tyson made his first move; he ordered his hyenas, Vinnie and Damien to “grab
the little motherfucker and hold him down so that I can administer some
punishment.”
Always
happy to serve Tyson as if he was a King rather than an over-aged primary
school bully, they quickly tossed aside their school bags and made for Nathan. Vincent
was first to attack. He grabbed Nathan’s left arm, and was about to wrench it
around his back when the most amazing thing happened. Nathan spun around
quickly, and while he was spinning, he pushed out with his right hand, which he
had formed into a tight fist. There was a loud squishy explosion as Nathan’s
fist connected with Vinnie’s nose. Vinnie, with a squawk of surprise, staggered
back with his nose spouting blood.
All
of this happened before Damien knew about it, and he unknowingly grasped Nathan
in an attempt to put him in a headlock. Nathan dispatched Damien as swiftly and
brutally as he did Vinnie, but instead of a fist to Damien’s nose, Nathan
delivered one to his nuts. With an immense howl of pain, Damien was lying on
the ground gasping for air.
By
this time, David had caught up with Tyson’s group, and could see Vinnie vainly
trying to stem the flow of blood with his hands while Damien lay on the ground
holding his nuts, sobbing. A secret smile spread across David’s lips at their
misfortune, for never before had they been given a whopping as severely as what
Nathan had given them. He now stood his ground, hands by his side, his cold
blue eyes firmly fixed on Tyson.
“This
fight is between you and me,” he said, his voice clear, carrying well in the
vacant lot. There was no sign of exertion—he had dispatched Vinnie and Damien
with a minimal amount of effort, for you didn’t have to possess too much grey
matter to know that neither of them were prize fighters. He continued: “If you
haven’t the guts to fight me, Tyson, then go away. I haven’t got the time to
waste on shitty fisticuffs with half of this fucking town.”
Though
Nathan’s face was too far away for David to see, he could clearly see Tyson’s;
a mixture of surprise and anguish. Never before had he seen a two on one
situation reversed, with the one coming out on top. Tyson was neither
intimidated by Nathan’s speed, nor by the aura of calm that surrounded that
kid. He let his back pack slide off his right shoulder effortlessly, cracked
his knuckles and proceeded to walk towards Nathan with a large retinue of
curious kids, David included, in tow.
Nathan’s
mistake was that he waited for Tyson to attack. Tyson, a veteran of the one-on-one
scene, circled around and around his opponent, his eyes darting back and forth,
scouring his opponent with the scrutiny of a scientist inspecting a microbe. Only
when his scrutiny was complete did he move;
and fast! For a boy of his size, Tyson moved swiftly, and because of his
size, Nathan, despite all of his courage, was forced to back away, and he did
just that. He took a step back, then another, and before he could stop himself,
he stepped back again…
…into
a hole in the ground. Without having to physically knock him down, Tyson had
Nathan on the ground, and when he had someone on the ground, Tyson had him. With his considerable weight,
he grabbed Nathan in the headlock Damien had failed to put him in, and rained
blow after blow into his unprotected face until blood poured from his smashed
lips and his nose.
“No
motherfucker calls me dad a jailbird,” he said after one final blow. “Especially
a motherfucker like you.”
When
he got to his feet, the front of his shirt was stained crimson with Nathan’s
blood. Disgusted, he tore the shirt off, exposing a full accompaniment of chest
hair that played the vital difference between him and his cronies. Having won
the battle, Tyson walked off, but not before Vinnie and Damien each kicked
Nathan a good one in the guts, trailing after their King feeling a little
embarrassed for their misadventure.
The
tribe of kids followed in Tyson’s wake down the street; except for David, who
for reasons unknown found himself helping Nathan into a sitting position. Nathan
stared blandly up at him, the coldness still in his eyes, though they were
barely able to remain open.
“Take
my hanky,” David said, offering a neatly folded piece of checkered rag. “Boy,
did he make a mess out of you.”
Nathan swatted at the blood that was
coming out of his nose. “I’m gonna get that bastard,” he whispered more to
himself than to anyone else. “Mark my words,” he said, before getting groggily
to his feet, and without as much as a sideways glance in David’s direction,
ambled down the street towards his home.
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