Chapter 2
Entering the hall, I saw everyone was there. Coach saw me coming in and glared, “Again?!”
“Please Coach, I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”
I hated coach. And that was putting it lightly; he was a fat man who wore sweat pants and a hoody. Rumour had it he’d tried to get into army but was refused because he was overweight. Instead he taught a bunch of youth how to kill each other. How you gotta love irony huh?
“Whatever. Get changed Jacksons, and show us you’re not just a nerd with aspirations of being Muhammad Ali.
I growled and muttered, “Fuck you, you fat fuck!”
He turned round and I scampered to changing room. To say I was mistreated because I took a high faluting course like Psychology was an understatement. They all called me Geek Boy, Nerd, and Brains. Not realizing last one was a compliment. As I ripped my top off, dressed down to my drawers, I admired myself. I wasn’t vain, just I wasn’t ugly either. And with the wrestling I had gained some muscle. While my hair was ginger cut really short. I was told I look dangerous.
Finally, I grabbed my blue shorts, threw them on tied drawer string, slipped on my canvas shoes before leaving the changing room.
Coach merely growled at me, “Right, we can begin now Nerd here.”
I said nothing and he just stared daggers at me, “Clark, cut this brain down to size.”
We climbed into the ring, Clark wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box but he had looks which was enough, but it was his downfall, he guarded his face more than the rest of his body. This would be easy.
As the bell rung I threw a punch at his shoulder. He parried and tried to trip me before beating me. But that was pointless as I stuck the shoulder again, straffing around to his back and putting him in a hold. But he wouldn’t have that, and winded me with his elbow.
I groaned and dodged as I let the adrenaline hit me. I loved the fights; being underestimated almost daily was great. It was easy to see from Clark’s face his Adonis-like face he was sure he was winning. Oh boy if only he knew, I slid down to my knees and threw him over my back. I heard a crack.
Well that would teach him to underestimate me. I straddled him, before beginning the count.
“1, 2, 3!”
The bell rung and the fun ended.
“Clark climbed out, his shoulder was fractured but his face was okay so he just grinned stupidly at coach before being sent to the Nurse.
I climbed out the ring and for a second saw a glimmer of pride in the coach’s eye before rage went back in, “You made it so he can’t fight for a month Jacksons.”
“Well maybe that teach you to try knock me down a peg or two. I may not be a jock like rest of you. But I can handle myself perfectly fine in this ring despite what else I’m studying.”
“Whatever Geek Boy, time for warm up!”
Joining the rest of the group I smiled at them, a few of them whispered, “Coach’s golden boy got what he deserved.” Then silence entered the room and the coach spoke, “Space out and perform 15 star jumps. I shall check on Clark.”
There were few sniggers before we spaced out. I leapt up and opened my legs before closing them when landing, while lifting arms up and putting them back to sides. It was lucky fight was short; I’d had one hell of a cramp from the running earlier to get here in time.
“Graham Jackson get you scummy ass here this minute.”
Rolling my eyes I stopped and saw the coach red faced and utterly livid, “You’ve gone too far this time!”
“Oh really fatso, you have no respect for me, and Clark got what was coming to him!”
The coach voice lowered, “Lets. Make. This. Clear. You. Dumbass motherfucker! Clark Daddy and Mummy are fucking lawyers, very well known lawyers. Get the point!?”
That certainly wasn’t good. Not good at all. Here I could get into trouble because I’d been harassed and forced to fight an opponent for chuckles of coach. Not fucking good.
“...”
Coach laughed mockingly, “No smart quips then Mr Jackson?”
“...”
“Get out of here brain boy, go fuck a dictionary.”
Then the laughter began harsh laughter with an evil edge to it. Coach had shot out the park and he knew it. I knew it; I could get the University into trouble. And who would listen to me over the coach? That’s right no one.
I stormed out without a sense of pride or direction
