I explained the moves – head butt, shin scrape, instep stomp, elbow to the midsection, and the hands-down class favourite every time, the balls-grabbing-twisting-yanking lawnmower. Watts came over and used me to demonstrate. ’Reach back and grab the goods, twisting and pulling straight out like you’re startin’ a lawnmower.’
He ended with, ‘Vvvvrrroom!’ The women howled with laughter, and I bit my lip and probably reddened when Watts asked them to please dramatize that move without fully enacting it, to ensure Ellsworth and I remained capable of future fatherhood.
One by one, the six women in my line took turns facing the others while I came up behind them and grabbed all the way round, banding my arms and pinning theirs. They used whichever of the defences they wanted to use, most doing a facsimile of the lawnmower at the end, complete with sound effect. Jacqueline’s friend, Erin, performed every single defence, full throttle. I smiled, imagining her attacker on the ground begging her to run away. Her group cheered while she asked, completely serious, if she should kick him before running away.
I liked this girl.
Finally, it was Jacqueline’s turn. I knew that her nervousness was because of me, and I was determined that she not be at a disadvantage because of that. She needed to learn these moves. She needed to feel the power behind performing them. She needed faith in herself, and it was my job to give that to her.
When my arms surrounded her, she froze. Dammit. My fault, my fault, my fault.
‘Hit me, Jacqueline,’ I prompted softly. ‘Elbow.’
She obeyed.
‘Good. Foot stomp. Head butt.’ I led her quietly, and she followed. ‘Lawnmower.’ She did the move, without the sound effect employed by the others.
I released her and she stumbled towards her group, who were cheering as if she’d medalled in an Olympic event. Erin enveloped her in a protective embrace, and I decided she was the worthiest friend my girl could have.
My girl.
The front bear hug rendered me dumbstruck. Even with the padding and the audience and the objective behind the interaction, I looked into her eyes, inches away, and felt my desire for her like a kick to the gut. Luckily, my body went on autopilot to imitate a full-body frontal assault, and she did the defence moves without prompts, attuned to the voices of her group’s enthusiastically shouted directives and calls of encouragement.
One more week of economics classes.
One more self-defence module.
Over.
20
Landon
‘See, Standish, here’s the deal …’ Boyce sometimes sounded like a long-suffering parent, which in a way was just meaner. It made people think things weren’t as serious as they were. ‘You’ve gotten yourself into some deep shit, dude.’
I rolled my eyes? arms crossed over my chest, one hip braced against a chipped sink.
Eddie Standish faced Boyce but eyed me from the side without turning towards me, like a bird. The better to track where I was … without looking me in the eye. ‘I just need a little more time, you know?’
‘Ah,’ Boyce said, pursing his lips. ‘See, that’s the problem. Your time – it’s kinda run out.’
Standish blinked and his face went blotchy. Jesus, I hope he didn’t cry. I hated when they cried. ‘Run out? Whaddaya mean, run out? Y’all know me. Thompson knows me. Can’t I, like, have an extension?’ He turned away and ran both hands through his hair, tugging it – but when he turned back, it was like he’d put on a mask. ‘C’mon, Wynn. Don’t be a dick.’ A superior, better than thou, I’m about to get my ass handed to me mask.
Wynn looked at me. Is he doing what I think he’s doing?
I shrugged. Yeah, man.
A lowerclassman came through the bathroom door then, took one look at the three of us and backed straight out, eyes bulging.
Wynn angled his head and walked up to Standish. ‘So I’m the dick, eh? Not the guy who’s two hundred – is it two hundred, Maxfield?’
‘Yep.’
‘Two hundred bucks in debt for shit he traded for *.’ Boyce laughed, and Standish laughed, too. Idiot. ‘I could make a comment here about the fact that Maxfield and I don’t have to pay for * – ever. I could comment about how sad and pathetic it is that (a) you have to pay to get laid or that (b) doing so narrows the field to girls who’d do a guy for free shit in the first place, but I won’t.’
Boyce stared at his feet, fingers on his chin, tapping – which meant he was about to turn philosophical. Fuck. I had a class to get to.
‘Now, I’ve got nothing against a girl who enjoys her body in the same manner I do mine, though there is a difference between bein’ a slut – like me – and bein’ a prostitute.’ Boyce peered back at Standish. ‘I don’t judge them. A girl’s gotta do – et cetera, et cetera. But guys like you – who only get it when you pay for it? That is just tragic. In a really humorous sort of way, when you want to turn round and call me a dick.’
There was a pause as Standish absorbed this. ‘I don’t really give those bitches any of my shit, man,’ he said, laughing nervously, like we were all tight. ‘I just tell ’em I’m gonna, then go ahead and fuck ’em. What are they gonna do? Cry rape? They’re addicts and whores.’ He looked between us, swallowing. ‘I – uh, I traded most of the shit for a carburettor.’
‘I really wish you hadn’t said that,’ I said, my voice low.
‘Standish, dude … First, tradin’ a substantial amount of shit for car parts? That’s dealing, dickwad. In Thompson’s territory.’ Boyce glanced at me. ‘And as for that other thing? You just fucked yourself, man. My friend Maxfield, here – he’s got issues with the r-word.’
I watched Standish think hard to remember what r-word he’d said. ‘B-but, you can’t rape a junkie whore –’
He didn’t finish his sentence. I didn’t really mean to knock a tooth out – that was a bonus. I meant to motivate him to get creative with getting Thompson his two hundred dollars, and I meant to make it so he couldn’t speak or eat normally for a month. Done and done.
He paid up the next day. Boyce heard he pawned his dad’s Rolex, and he lost twenty pounds he was already too scrawny to lose with the forced-liquid diet he was on for six weeks.
The hitch came from the fact that we were on school property when Standish acquired his motivation. Though we preferred to keep these confrontations off campus, he’d made himself scarce for days. But school was compulsory, and it’s not hard to find someone when the whole student body is less than two hundred bodies. We figured out his schedule and set up an ambush – Boyce slinging an arm round his shoulders, laughing and smiling like they were bros, while steering him into the out-of-the-way bathroom.
Standish’s unfortunate accident put us back on Ingram’s radar. We were called to her office out of shop. Boyce guessed the lowerclassman snitched, because he was pretty sure Standish would shit himself before he’d rat us out as the guys who messed him up.
‘Except for that Jekyll and Hyde act of his – maybe he is dumb enough,’ I said.
‘Who and hide what?’ Boyce frowned. ‘That’s a book, right? Never mind. Just deny.’