Fighting For Honor[]
I sat in the Mental Dental waiting room, reading a five year old magazine. The words didn’t make much sense. Just squiggles on the page. My mind refused to process them. I wasn’t alone. There was one girl would scream and attack anyone who refused to bow down to her. Another girl who would ask someone else in the room a question, then scream “belittling me!” if they didn’t provide the answer she wanted them to.
How had it come to this?
Of course, I knew. The morning of the fight. The day everything changed. When I realized my need to get away from my parents was pointless. My search for a clique wasn’t about getting away from them. It was about me. The way it should be.
The receptionist was a twenty-something peroxide blond. Wearing a headset to make a personal call, while painting her nails. She stopped talking about some rave for about five seconds, to tell me I could go in.
I set the magazine down on the cork coaster covered coffee table. Walked through the door. Dr. Bambillo’s office was bare. Just a chair for him, and a couch for the patients. A small table beside his chair, with a jug of water and two cups. On the walls were many diplomas. Some of them looked fake—the school’s names were misspelled.
He gestured for me to sit down. I found his moustache a little distracting. My eyes went straight to it. I sat on the couch, rather than lay down. Ending up in therapy was hardly high on my bucket list.
“How are you today?” asked Dr. Bambillo.
“Fine,” I muttered.
“We can discuss anything you wish.”
I said nothing.
“Anything at all. This is your time.”
I said nothing.
“You were involved in a fight with Justin Vandervelde,” said Dr. Bambillo, raising the page on his clipboard. “How about we start with that.”
I took a deep breath, and told my story.
^^^^
One thing the kids of Bullworth love most is a fight, and the Preps were going out of their way not to disappoint. The Glass Jaw Boxing Gym was scrubbed up for the occasion. Two banners on the wall. One very much in support for Justin, the other read JOSH HYDE, HE MAY (HOWEVER UNLIKELY) WIN. Russell and the gang had crossed out the words in brackets and ‘may’ and replaced them with ‘WILL.’ No one had the guts to argue with him. I watched it all through the window of the second floor bar. All of the preps had rallied around Justin near the bar.
I had Pete. We sat on the couch, staring at the floor.
“Here,” said Pete, slipping my leather wrist strap around my wrist.
The doors opened. Gary walked in. In the doorway was a girl with purple hair. The door closed, leaving her outside. Derby made it clear that no girls were to enter. I looked to Gary surprised to see him.
“The truce ends the moment you enter the ring,” said Gary.
“I know,” I replied. “No need to remind me.”
“Until then.” Gary opened his hand. Resting in his palm was a single penny. “A friend found it outside. Wanted to pass it on for good luck.”
Tad let out a laugh. “Gary has friends? Who would have guessed.” I’m glad someone said it.
“Thanks, Gary,” I said, taking the penny. In a lower voice, I whispered, “He is going on your shit list too, isn’t he?”
“He was put on it a long time ago,” said Gary. He turned, walked out to return to the purple haired girl.
“Are you keeping it?” asked Pete.
“Yeah. I need all the luck I can get.”
Pete ripped away a small strip of duct tape from the roll laying on the table in front of us. He taped the penny on the inside of my leather cuff. He removed the keys, slipped them into his pocket. Fastened the cuff around my wrist.
“Any last minute advice?” I asked. There was practically a symphony of condescending laughs in the background.
“Be aware of the crowd. You don’t want to get caught in the path of weapons being thrown to you.” Pete went quiet for a few moments. “And Josh, win or lose, you’re still my best friend.”
“No matter what, you’re still mine.”
Pete and I remained silent after that.
No words needed to be said.
Derby announced it was time. Following the Preps, I walked along the first floor balcony. Pete stayed up there, to get a good view. The whole school had come to watch. Violating the fire code, but no one cared. The crowd parted, creating a corridor walled with the judging eyes of the student body.
I willed myself to focus on my destination alone.
Derby stood in the center of the ring, between Justin and I. I had to face my brown haired temporary nemesis. Justin’s lips curved up at the edge, smug. He thought he had already won. I knew it.
“Before we begin,” said Derby. “Joshua, do you have anything to say?”
I looked out to the audience, searching among the sea of faces for Beatrice. She wasn’t there. Or I just couldn’t see her. Along the balcony railings was a white bed sheet turned banner with “JOSH, KICK HIS ASS, BRO!” Some of the Jocks had hung it. Pete looked down from above my name. Russell and the gang cheering. A couple of the boys waving cardboard signs with “GO JOSH!” on them. Torn from a box, by the look of it. Save for the banner the preps had put up, there was none for Justin.
Near the doors, leaning against the wall was Gary. The gaze of his brown eyes locked with my own. He raised his hand, thumb sticking up. Slowly turning it downwards, like an emperor giving the death sentence to a gladiator in the arena. The purple haired girl stood beside him, waving a sign. There was a drawing of Justin knocked out, my foot resting on his head, raising my arms victoriously. At least, I thought it was me. I hoped it was me. I suddenly realized where I knew her from. She was protesting in the foyer, the day that I made my biggest mistake at Bullworth.
I took a deep breath. “I officially leave the Preps. The clique, the fraternity. All of it. You all claimed to be my brothers, but that was only true when you either kept me hostage, or looked down your noses at me. I would rather stand alone, than stand with any of you.”
Derby smiled. “Resignation accepted. That being said, Justin, choose who will fight with you.”
“Wait, what?!” I yelled. “You said, I stand alone.”
“You do stand alone,” said Derby. “I never said Justin stands alone. The rules of The Hole are; any fighter may elect a second. Now you fight under the rules of Glass Jaw. Justin may choose three allies to fight with him. So can you. But you have no one. You are fully alone.”
“He ain’t alone,” cut through the crowd. All eyes turned to the leather jacket wearing, greasy haired, self proclaimed Greaser King. Johnny Vincent slipped through the ropes.
“You are forbidden to fight with him,” Derby protested. “Josh may only choose from his own clique.”
Johnny turned his head towards the gang of Greasers. “Oi, Hal, chuck me your jacket.”
The tubby kid who had sold me the cheese burger the day before slipped off his leather jacket. He threw it up to the waiting hand of his king. Johnny snatched it out of the air. He shoved the jacket into my hands.
“From today, you’re a Greaser, kid,” said Johnny. “Put that on.”
I slipped on Hal’s jacket, looking to Derby.
“Very well,” said Derby. “Under these circumstances, Joshua, you may choose who to stand with you.”
“Well,” I muttered. I was at a disadvantage. I only knew the names of three greasers; Johnny, Lola and Hal. “Well, Johnny, and…” I looked to Johnny, silently pleading with him to help me.
“Don’t worry kid, I got this,” said Johnny. “Peanut, Norton, get your asses up here.”
Two more kids joined us. One white and brown haired. The other was a little darker. Black haired. Tall and tough. I was glad he was on my side. I would be shitting myself, if I were to face him in a fight in a dingy alley.
Johnny jabbed his finger into Derby’s chest. “And you, rich kid, will be fighting me.”
Justin chose Bif and Bryce to stand with him. Derby declared the fight to begin. All I could hear amongst the roar of the crowd was the punching sounds of the Preps and Greasers facing each other. Johnny and his boys did a good job of keeping Derby, Bif and Bryce away from me.
Justin and I circled each other, like lions stalking each other before a fight. He swung a punch at me, catching my ear. He went for the other. I swiftly moved to the side, anticipating this trick. My fist found its mark in his gut. Justin hunched over.
From the Balcony above, I heard, “Josh, buddy, catch!” A trash can lid fell from above, landing near my feet.
Nodding to the Jock wearing a cap in gratitude, I snatched the lid up before anyone else could. I literally bitch slapped Justin around the head with it. He stood there dazed. I slammed it down on his head, knocking him out.
Johnny and Derby were still locked in combat. Derby’s swift moves of a boxer against Johnny’s full force street brawl moves. Norton and Peanut were both fighting Bif. Bryce was already showing signs of fatigue. He came at me. I pulled the lid up as a shield. Bryce’s fist hit it with such force, the lid had his fist print in the metal surface. He wasn’t dumb enough to try that again. He faked me out. Aiming a punch to get me to raise the lid. Snatched it out of my hands, and threw it into the audience.
Sirens blared outside. Everyone froze.
“Everyone run!” a few kids in the audience shouted.
“This ain’t over!” Johnny told Derby. He grabbed me by the arm. “Come on kid, you’re with us.”
“Wait,” I muttered. “What about Pete.”
“Norton, get tha’ scrawny kid he hangs with,” Johnny ordered.
The kids of Bullworth fled out the doors of Glass Jaw onto the streets. No one was arrested. Even if the police wanted to, they couldn’t arrest them all. Johnny lead me past a gazebo, down towards an alleyway, to a quiet part at the end of the beach. The greasers came after him, with Pete. Lola pointed towards the old trail.
We kept running. No one caught us.
^^^^
“In the end, it didn’t even matter that the fight never ended,” I concluded. “I had kept to my agreement with Justin. Kept my word to Derby that I would leave the Preps. Realized that I wasn’t alone in Bullworth at all. The support… I never expected it.”
“If your new gang got away, how did the authorities catch you?” Dr. Bambillo asked.
“Justin ratted me out to the police. Gave my name, full description. Told them which dorm was mine. When I left the Greasers that evening, the cops were there waiting at the underpass. Justin didn’t want to press charges. I think he just wanted to attempt to triumph over me.”
“What happened with those Greaser hoodlums, who embraced you into their gang?”
“They took me back to some place they hang out at in New Coventry. A quiet little place. We talked over a beam cola. Hal got his jacket back. Johnny told me standing up to Justin showed guts. If I ever wanted to be part of the Greasers, the place was waiting for me. All I had to do was say when.”
I became aware of a green wine bottle resting under Dr. Bambillo’s chair, with a piece of paper rolled up inside. I had seen something like this before, on the beach of Old Bullworth Vale, after my ill-fated date with Christy.
Dr. Bambillo fetched the bottle, handing it to me with a Mental Dental pencil. “Joshua, art is the therapy to the soul. I want you to take the paper with in this bottle, unburden yourself. Fill the page with a drawing representation of your feelings, put it in this bottle, and throw it into the ocean. Let the waters carry your problems away from you.”
I thanked Dr. Bambillo, even though I thought he was a quack, who had no idea what he was talking about. Glad to be out of that place, I got the bus to Old Bullworth Vale pier. I could have walked, but I wanted the time on the bus to think about what I would draw.
Only when I was on the wooden pier, did I sit down and draw. For half hour, I focused entirely on drawing a picture—as close as I could get—to myself. I was my problem. Letting other people choose my path for me. Russell gave me no say in joining, and I stayed because I felt I had no choice. Derby exploited my need to get away from my parents. I stayed there, because I was afraid of losing everything if I told him to stick it. Well, no more. From now on, I planned to work on making choices for myself, for the right reasons.
I rolled the drawing up, and slotted it into the bottle. Pushed down the cork, until the bottle was practically air tight. At the very edge of the pier, I dropped the bottle into the water. There was more to the story than I told Dr. Bambillo.
The Greasers had welcomed me into the clique. For a brief moment, I considered accepting it right there, but I needed time to think. Another agreement to honor. One that meant I might just have a good Christmas after all.
My first Christmas ever.