Writers Wednesday || Part 13 - The Fight

Sorry this is so late in the day, guys! But life, right?
Anyways, in this one I finally get to display my research of fifty slang! Hahaha, I only wish I could have put more in. There were some really funny ones I found. Like, they actually had a term for a guy with a bad haircut.

- Part 13 -

The Fight

It had been less than twenty-four hours since the incident on April's porch, and Dylan's cheeks were still burning.

All day he had been trying to catch her between periods in school, but they were in different years and neither took the same classes. So now he waited, as usual, fifteen minutes outside the school to walk her home. It had become their new routine after their summer jobs ended and school began. Of course, she didn't know he actually waited for her. Like their jobs, she just thought their classes ended at the same time.

Dylan sat rubbing his hands nervously on the concrete steps outside the school. It wasn't a very big school. It had been a mansion, before it was donated to the county a century ago. Now it looked like an old rag that had been torn up and resewn a few too many times.

Echoing voices and pained cries reached Dylan's ears from around the corner of the west side. He stood, recognizing the sounds of a fight. Leaping down the steps two at a time and rounding the bend, Dylan found four boys beating a huddled form on the ground. Several feet away, a pair of spectacles lay shattered.

"Hey!" Dylan yelled, striding over to the closest bully. "HEY!"

The kid turned around, and Dylan saw it was Kenneth Stridly, the resident jerk. The other three in his posse paused at the interruption, fists poised to continue. Glancing down, Dylan recognized their prey. It was Richy Stallings.

"You really want to get in the middle of this, nosebleed?" asked Kenneth. He was only slightly shorter than Dylan, but was built fat, thick, and freckly.

"Why are you so cranked, Kenny? What's Richy done to you?"

"None of your business," he growled. When Dylan didn't move, Kenneth spat and said, "Drop dead twice, Bryant."

"What? And look like you?" Dylan grinned.

"That's it--" Kenneth swung a log-sized fist at Dylan. Dodging just a moment too late, Dylan took it in the shoulder. He staggered back. Retaliating, he feinted to Kenneth's right, then went in for his left jawbone. Kenneth fell like a shot.

The next few seconds were bloody, and not just for Kenneth's gang. Dylan found himself on the ground, four pairs of boots kicking his stomach and legs. He managed to grab one of the boy's legs and pull them down, landing a nice knuckle-sandwich to the kid's eye, but he easily scrambled out of Dylan's weak headlock.

"Dylan!" April's shriek stopped all activity.

Head pounding, Dylan blinked through sweat and blood and saw April standing, horror-struck, before them. Her voice shook angrily as she glared at Kenneth and the others. "You monsters!"

"Come on, Ken," said one of the boys. "Let's just leave these punks. Stallings got the message, didn't you, ankle-biter?" The boy turned to Stallings.

Reluctantly, Kenneth slunk away, his friends trailing after him. April watched them apprehensively for a moment, then flung herself down next to Dylan.

"Are you two alright?" she cried, helping him sit up. " What happened?"

Stallings had scooted so that his back was against the brick wall of the school. He cradled his right arm, blinking to see straight without his spectacles. Dylan coughed and wiped the blood away from his mouth and nose, then felt his ribs. None of them seemed broken, but it was going to be hard to hide this mess from his parents. His mother would weep on sight.

He found himself squeezing April's hand hard against the pain. But she didn't seem to notice.

"You were fighting," she said, as if he had somehow not realized it.

"Hep," he said.

"Do you need to go to the hospital? Is anything broken?"

"I'm fine," Dylan replied. "But check on Richy."

"I think my arm's dislocated," Richy said and April went to him.

"I'll go get the nurse and call 911," April said, and hurried back into the school.

Fifteen minutes later, Ms. Henbrook, the school nurse, was helping Richy into the back of an ambulance. Richy caught Dylan's eye before the door closed and mouthed "Thanks." Dylan shrugged as if it were nothing and nodded.

As the emergency vehicle drove away, April turned to Dylan, the worry still in her voice, "You're sure you're alright? That cut on your forehead looks pretty bad. It's swelling."

Dylan resisted the urge to feel it. 

"Why was Kenneth beating up Richy?" she asked.

Dylan shook his head. "Does Kenneth need a reason? He's Kenneth. And Richy is, well, Richy."

They fell silent for a moment.

"April, about last night…"

A shy smile flickered over her face and she dipped her head, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Sorry about my dad," she said. "He's… um…"

"You don't need to apologize. But can I ask you something?"

April looked up, "Yes?"

"If I asked your dad a question, and he said yes, would you like it?"

She smiled shyly again, but didn't look away this time. "I would."

Dylan grinned, "Then I'll go ask him now."

April laughed and grabbed her school bag from the steps, "I'll walk you."

Adios,
~The Scribbler in the Attic