Page 26 of The Beginning and End of Everything
"Nah,” I let out a sigh. “I'm too scared. And they're right; I am fat."
Brandon pushed off the wheelbarrow, slapping a hand on my shoulder. "I'll always have your back."
I didn't want him to help me all the time, though. I wanted tobelike him, have Poppy hug me, and the bullies stop picking on me because they were scared of me—not Brandon. And besides, who was gonna have Brandon's back?
More than anything, I wanted to be the kind of friend to Brandon that he was to me. "Can you teach me how to punch?" I asked.
A slow grin worked over his lips. "Sure."
"And then we can have each other’s backs," I said.
He nodded. "Friends forever, remember?"
"Always."
12
Brandon
September 2003
Two boys circled each other in the pen, dishing out punches that left the straw spattered with blood. With each blow, drunken cheers rang out from the crowd. Any second, I’d be in that very ring, and the thought of it made my stomach a jittery ball of nerves.
A hand landed on my shoulder, and I jumped.
“Easy, lad,” Uncle Darren said. “Here. Drink this.” He thrust his hip flask in my face, and I tipped it back. “It’ll help steady ya.”
The whiskey burned my throat, but that didn’t keep me from chugging several more gulps before he snatched the flask from my hand.
“Easy. I want you confident. Not shitfaced.”
“You said you used to fight drunk.”
He snorted. “Lad, I can handle my liquor. You?” He squeezed my small bulge of a bicep. “Not so much.”
The roar of the crowd grew louder, dragging my attention to the pen. One of the fighters stood in the center with both fists raised above his head while a group of men dragged the other, unconscious guy between the pallets.
The whiskey churned in my gut, and that sensation summed up my feelings on the whole situation.
Uncle Darren grabbed both of my shoulders hard, bringing his lips close to my ear. “Now, remember what I said. He’s a chunky little bastard, so dance around him. When you hit, make it hard and fast.” He slapped me on the back, and I stumbled forward.
The few people in front of the haphazard gate stepped aside, letting me into the pen just as the old man in the center cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, “Welcome, Brandon O’Kieffe!” A mixture of cheers, wolf whistles, and shouts rang out, and that churn in my gut turned to fear in my chest.
My opponent stepped across from me. He was bigger, chubby, and although my head spun under the rush of adrenaline, I was scared.
“And he’ll be fighting, Billy Richards!”
Fear laced worry crackled through my veins. I didn’t want to be a disappointment to Uncle Darren or my dad. I didn’t want to lose in front of all these people. With a heavy swallow, I forced myself to calm down and do everything Uncle Darren had taught me.
The bell pinged, and for a second, I froze. Billy moved toward me, bouncing from side to side. When he went for a right hook, I ducked. Then popped up and drove my fist into his jaw as hard as I could.
There was a second where everything slowed.
The cheers of the crowd faded into muted background noise, and it was just Billy Richards and me. He staggered a step and went down, hitting the ground like a felled tree. Much to my shock, I’d knocked him out. All I could do was stand and stare in disbelief.
Someone grabbed me. I was thrown into the air, hoisted onto Uncle Darren’s shoulders. All the noise filtered back in, the cheering, the praise.Next Champion. Better than Darren.
One punch. That was all it took for everything I knew to change. One punch both saved and doomed me.
