eyes beat down on me as they giggled and clapped. Mad, eager smiles spread across their faces, and BB waved us both to the center of the ring. Twon loomed behind Leroy, and he glowered down at me. A thin line of peach fuzz undulated above his mouth. T-Money kneaded my traps and shoulders. They walked us up close to each other, and our foreheads almost touched. Leroy and I tried to make mean faces, but they slid from grimaces to grins.
“Rules...” BB said, looking down and scratching his chin. “Fuck... it ain’t no rules...” The crowd squealed. “Aight, no bleedin’ too much, and no cryin’.”
The boys roared.
“Now go back to your corners, and come on out swingin’,” BB declared, placing his hands on his hips. “And don’t be swingin’ like no girls or nothin’.”
As I walked back to my corner, Ryan rushed up.
“You got him, Joe... You got him.” Ryan’s green eyes gleamed. His spiky buzz-cut blazed in the sunlight like a copper crown.
I smirked. My heart pulsed. The yells deafened me. I couldn’t think. I just scanned their faces. An obese, light-skinned black kid with a saggy, off-yellow shirt; a little white kid with a blond box cut; a wiry Assyrian kid with a shaggy, loose-curled afro. All of ’em bounced on their toes with the same excited, toothy grins. The ground felt soft and unstable under my sneakers. Their sudden shouts spouted up and swallowed the next.
“Let’s get ready to rumble!” BB bellowed, and then stepped back. Leroy and I stood across from each other. We didn’t know what to do.
“Go on an’ fight,” BB ordered, and clapped his hands together.
We walked out in the middle. Both of us awestruck, we smiled and glanced around. Suddenly, Leroy’s fist lurched out and cracked my forehead. A loud “Ohh!” rang from the circle. My head rocked back. I’d never been punched like that. I saw the fist, then the blue sky. Then, I was looking back at Leroy again. A howl surged through my ears. It wasn’t funny anymore. An orb of broiling energy materialized in the center of my chest. I squeezed my fist, and the energy gushed straight through my arm and bottlenecked at my wrist. Then, it exploded as my fist burst into Leroy’s eye socket. His head whipped back, and his smile evaporated.
We commenced to drive our clutched fists into each other’s heads. There was no form, no technique. The blows were all guided by complete and blind malice. I heard nothing, thought nothing. There was no time, just the moment. We teetered into the circular wall of boys, and they just shoved us back toward the center.
After a few calamitous minutes, I drew arm-weary. Tears splashed down Leroy’s face. His lip sparkled with blood. I couldn’t catch my breath. My arms flapped at my sides like two dead lake trout, and I crumpled to the cement. A joyous howl ballooned up around me. The sudden embarrassment wrenched in my heart and hurled me to my feet. I rushed Leroy and dug my fist into his belly, deep, so he cried out. Then, he crumbled to the ground and wept in heavy, tired sobs. T-Money rushed into the middle of the ring waving his hands over his head.
“That’s round one. End-a the round,” he said, then he grabbed my elbow and led me back to the corner. Twon picked up Leroy.
“That’s good, Joe!” T-Money urged. “You got him! You gon’ whoop dat marg!”
Ryan stepped up on my side. His bright eyes glowed. There was a hopeful smile on his thin lips. “You all right, Joe?” he asked. “You all right?”
I got a lump in my throat and nodded.
“Damn, Leroy, I thought you was a sucka... You ain’t a sucka at all...” BB squeaked. “But you betta not let that white boy whoop you.”
When T-Money called out for round two, a few hot tears streamed down my face. I didn’t want to stop, and I didn’t know why I was crying. The tears infuriated me. I wanted to fight, and I wanted to win. Leroy’s bottom lip was split down the center, and bright-red blood glistened across his quivering mouth. A thin stream slid down from the cut and mixed with the tears streaking along his cheek. The bloody tears suffused at his chin, then dribbled down to his shirt in murky, red splotches.
They called for round two, and we went right back at it. We fought toe-to-toe like that for a very long time. It became a battle of wills. I cracked first. The sizzling heat, the surging roars, the bursts of white in my vision—it was all too much. I got dizzy, stumbled, and then locked eyes with the wiry Assyrian kid. He looked worried. It could have been his brother. The dead Assyrian’s face swirled up and flashed in my mind—his blood-dampened hair, the frozen scream. I tried to say I was sorry, to tell him that I pray for his brother sometimes. I’m so sorry. Leroy smacked me with a hard punch to the forehead, and I crumpled to the pavement and curled up in a fetal ball.
Suddenly, BB leered down at me.
“One... Two... Three... Four...”
Ryan dashed over and squatted down on his hams beside me.
“Come on, Joe, get up... Please get up.”
Ryan’s strained face floated over me before the cloudless, stark-blue sky that hovered above. The sun was silhouetted perfectly by his round head. My crucifix dangled down from his neck and swayed over my eyes. What if he don’t wanta be my friend no more. This cool calm spread over me. I wiped my tears, took a deep breath, and stood up. Then, I walked straight to Leroy and cracked him. He reeled backward, and I unloaded a barrage of shots that bounced his head around like a paddle ball. Finally, Leroy spun and belly flopped on the cement. His cheek clapped the concrete and kicked up a spray of white dust that caked the whole side of his face. The dust clung to his tears and sweat like flour sprinkled on wet dough.
BB counted over Leroy. My fists felt like hot goo. I heard the low rumble of a Diesel engine, then tires crinkling atop the pebbled alleyway. The obese black kid stepped up behind me and pounded his heavy paw on my back. The others joined him, and their many hands jolted me as I stepped back, heaving. A car door unlatched, swung open, and slammed shut. I craned to see over the ring. There was a light-brown truck just down the alley. Suddenly, Leroy sprang up and drove his shoulder into my hip. We both tumbled to the pavement, sprawling, and I knew I’d roll him. He straddled me and tried to punch down, so I yanked his shirtsleeve downward, reached up, and clutched his mucky, tear-drenched jaw. Then, I twisted and toppled him. As we rolled, a large hand clamped down on my arm and yanked me clear up into the air. My big brother Rich’s glossy, steel-blue eyes flashed in mine. His teeth flared at the center of his bristly beard. The wild, brown curls of Rich’s shoulder-length mullet swayed fiercely as he ambled through the wall of kids. He knocked BB flat on his backside. I dangled from his grip with the tips of my sneakers scraping the pavement. He snatched his backward, red Marlboro baseball cap off his head. T-Money scampered alongside us with his brow furrowed.
“What? You his brotha or something?” T-Money pleaded. “It was a fair fight. He was doin’ fine. He was finna win!”
Rich stomped on. As we got to Dad’s old Diesel, he shoved T-Money in the chest. Then, he yanked the passenger side door open and threw me in by my arm. I landed on his girlfriend Nancy’s lap.
“Richard, stop it now!” She hissed. Her long, straight brown hair spilt out of her headband.
Rich slammed the door shut on us, then spun around on T-Money, who looked young and frail up next to him. Rich’s chest heaved beneath his sleeveless, black Iron Maiden shirt.
“You wanta beat up on my brother, nigger?” Rich spat, then
