Capítulo 22: Chapter 21: Puttin’ Keith In His Place
"Damn, I can't believe it," Keith muttered as he looked at the two of us still holding hands. "Abby of all the people you could've picked you chose a…Langston!" He practically hissed my last name out, his brown eyes narrowing into slits as he glared at me.
"Oh, can it Keith! It ain't like any of us here have perfect families either, we live in Shelley County for Christ's sake!" Abby shot back, her voice as harsh as a winter storm.
"No, we aren't perfect but we sure as hell don't have someone like Cain Langston in our family! That sack of shit never apologized for what he did!" Keith's mention of Dad's name caused me to freeze, my grip stiffening around Abby's delicate fingers. The girl shot me a worried look, a broken chuckle leaking from my lips. Unzipping my red work vest I laid it on the counter, a deep breath whistling past my teeth as my shoulders slumped. Tapping away at the keys of the register I clocked out, my thirty-minute 'lunch break' coming early.
"Hehehe, you're right Keith. My Dad is a real piece of shit. You wanna know the last thing he told me before Officer Maggot loaded him in his patrol car? 'Make sure this town doesn't forget to fear saying my name'. I can't let you get away with direspectin' him like that or Dad's liable to kick my ass." I let go of Abby's hand, my shoulders rolling as I cracked my neck. My boots thumped across the tiled floor, my hand reaching into my pocket to pull out my phone.
[I've clocked out, but I'm going to go fight in the parking lot.]
[You know that's a fireable offense right?]
[Isn't installing secret surveillance cameras behind Mike's back a fireable offense?]
[…just make sure you don't kill anyone or damage store property and I can overlook this.]
After the brief text exchange with Jerry, I walked past a frozen Tobey and Jessica. The two of them had always been chicken shit about fighting, both of them freezing up at the first sign of danger. Behind them, my feet took me past Keith and Jason, my eyes meeting the dirty blond with a challenging look. A cocky smirk grew on my face as I left myself completely vulnerable to a sucker punch as I already knew that they couldn't throw a single punch harder than Dad.
"This won't go the way you think it will you piece of shit!" Keith snapped as he immediately followed behind me, a much more reluctant Jason backing up his friend as he stalked behind. The whirring sound of the sliding glass door opening filled the air along with the familiar chime.
"Don't worry Keith, I won't cripple you. We wouldn't want our star quarterback to be out for the first game of the season against Wallstone right?" The cool night air caused my breath to fog as it left my mouth, the white cloud growing as my heart thumped faster in my chest.
"W-why do you even have to do this Ethan?" Jason asked as he watched me grip the edges of my shirt before I tossed it off. The red fabric landed across the concrete curb as I stepped off of it, the cold night air brushing against my bare skin.
"…Because my Dad is the only person I'm afraid of." We had made it to the center of the lot, and I had finally turned around to face them. The humming glow of the light under the gas pump canopy illuminated my body covered in scars.
47 cigarette burns marred my flesh like polka dots, the number forever seared in my mind along with the pain as Dad had counted each of them out when he did it. The white faded scars crisscrossing my entire torso were now seen under the bright light above us. Dad had wanted me to toughen up and the man believed knife fighting with his son would do just the trick, the dull blades leaving jagged scar tissue in their wake. I looked like a war veteran, both boys flinching at the sight.
"These," I motioned toward the cigarette burns. "Were for talking back." My fingers brushed against the slight bump up of scar tissue in my flesh, a reminiscent smile playing on my lips.
I had told him no, and you never told Dad no. The cigarette in his mouth drooped before a wicked grin etched itself across his face. In the hallway where all the pictures of our family were he pinned me up against the wood paneling of the wall. It only took one hand for him to lift me into the air by the collar of my shirt, the way the fabric bunched up in his fist revealed my pale chubby stomach underneath.
His other fist sunk in my gut, a retching gag leaving my lips as I coughed up bile that spilled out of my nose. The burning sting of vomit caused my eyes to water, but Dad interpreted them as tears. You never cry in front of Dad. Pulling the cigarette from his lips he blew a grey cloud of noxious smoke right in my face. I wheezed as my lungs burnt like he'd poured lighter fluid on them and chucked in a match.
The orange glow of the cig filled my vision as he lowered it toward my stomach, the man grinning at me as I begged him to stop. You never beg Dad for anything. I screamed as the cigarette hissed against my skin, the orange glow being snuffed out as my flesh bubbled up from the heat. This was the memory tied to the scar I just touched, my eyes glazing over as I could practically smell the burnt flesh.
"He'll add more when he gets back, my goal right now though is to limit it to under 100 so I'm going to have to hurt you, Keith." I snarled like a wolf, my stride turning into a loping prowl. My hands were raised in front of my face as I clenched them into fists. Keith stepped back, his own stance far less graceful than my own.
Dad had taught me how to win, my first strike landing against the poor boy's sternum as he gasped in pain. He threw a wild haymaker, my forearm batting it away before it could build up any speed. Wide open, Keith could only watch as my fist buried itself right under his chest in the soft spot of his solar plexus. Groaning, the boy fell to his knees as he gasped for air. With the heel of my boot, I pushed him over, the boy falling on his back as his legs were pinned underneath him.
"This should be enough, just make sure you keep quiet about Dad. He isn't above beating children after all." As I spoke I walked back toward the curb, my eyes looking at the gawking audience with their faces plastered to the storefront windows. Heck, even Becky and Veronica had rolled down the passenger window of the car they were in to look at the sight.
As I re-entered the darker part of the parking lot I thought about what I'd done. Jason was currently helping Keith to his feet, the boy glaring at me with nothing but rage. He had been humiliated for simply talking smack about my Dad, a man who deserved zero respect. Did I have Stockholm Syndrome?
Grabbing my shirt off the curb I threw it back over my body, the scars once again hidden underneath the cloth. My feet carried me inside the door, the chime greeting me like a victorious champion. Abby was the first to come to me.
"…" She said nothing as she slammed herself against my chest, her slender arms wrapping around me. Unlike every time in my life when I got chastized for fighting Abby treated me differently. Her warm breath tickled against my neck as her ebony eyes peered up at me, the unshed tears brimming in their corners sending a pang of guilt lancing through my heart.
"That was a surgical takedown there killer," Persimmon said as she looked at the two of us hugging, her brown eyes meeting mine with a curious gleam.
"Dad taught me how to fight, said it was the only skill he could pass onto me that was useful." It's all his family knew, his Dad taught him just the same as his grandpa taught his dad, and that chain of Langston men being taught to fight went all the way back to when our family settled out in the frontier of Kentucky over 200 years ago. It was the only equivalent to a family heirloom we had, and Dad had taken pride in his rough-and-tumble upbringing.
"J-just be careful Ethan." Abby's words echoed in my head as for the first time after a fight I wasn't told 'Don't do that again!'. The black-haired girl seemed to understand that trouble followed me and that the best thing I could do wasn't to run from it but pick my battles wisely.
Had I fought Keith in the school parking lot the other day I would've been expelled, and no doubt criminal charges would've been pressed against me by the school. Tonight I used proper blackmail and Keith's own ego to force him into an unwinnable position, and the chances of long-term consequences were greatly reduced.
"I hate to interrupt your couple time but is my dessert done?" Persimmon's question brought a grin to my face as I bolted for the break room fridge. Tossing the door open I pulled the bowl of prison fudge out, the consistency just right.
"Here you go." Walking out I handed the bowl to her with a plastic spoon, the dark-skinned girl licking her lips as she eyed the dessert. Dipping the spoon and taking a scoop of the fudge she placed her delicate lips around the entire thing before pulling out an empty spoon in a single motion. The girl moaned, her eyes closing as she savored the tooth-decaying sensation of the dessert.
"Your dad was wrong about only being able to teach you how to fight because these recipes of his are fucking good!" I snorted at her words, the girl had no idea that Clara was a way better chef than me. The girl could make anything from scratch and work with the limited ingredients we have to make meals that make me clean my whole plate. My mind immediately drifted over to thoughts of my sister as I wondered what she was up to.
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