Page 45 of The Hardest Hit
“Up to you,” said BGD, still smiling.
Evan decided not to return comment, but instead shook his head and went back to his paper. After a while, he became aware of shouting further up the train and the clanging of an annoying drum.
“What the fuck?” he said, looking up. A full party of skinheads was making their way down the train. One of them stopped in the middle and began to make a speech. Evan looked around the train and realized that he was the only white male in the car that wasn’t part of the skin-head rally. The atmosphere in the train was tense and most people were trying to condense themselves down into their seats.
There was a pause in the speech and the backup band sniggered and whooped.
Evan didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Train etiquette generally indicated silence and waiting out the crazies. But this seemed outside the norm. On the other hand, he had no idea how to make them stop. Evan tucked his newspaper into his bag and prepared to get off should things go sideways.
The speaker, a buzz-cut mouth breather in camouflage pants, made a few more comments and then saw Evan and focused on him.
“Are you with me, brother?” he bellowed.
Evan stared at him in disbelief.
“I said, are you with me, brother,” yelled the Nazi, screaming it into Evan’s face, and then he threw the Nazi salute.
There was silence on the train, everyone was waiting for him to reply. Evan made a choice. Pain was not much of a problem for him. So he’d be late for work. What the hell? Why not?
“This country was built by slaves and immigrants,” he said. “And also, fuck Nazis.” He dropped his bag and flipped up the middle finger up on both hands.
The Nazi punched him. Which is what he’d expected. He hadn’t expected it to be such a weak hit though. So he punched back and then he punched the next white guy he saw, and the next one after that. And then someone picked him up and threw him off the train.
He turned around, preparing to punch that person, and saw BGD.
“That way,” said the Black Guy with Dreads, pointing behind Evan.
Evan turned back around again, preparing for more Nazis, but then there was a lot of yelling from cops. Evan put his hands up.
“I want my lawyer,” he said, as the cops put him in cuffs. He looked over at BGD; the cops were being a lot meaner to him. “And so does he.”
An hour later, Evan sat on the bench with the other four people who had decided that punching Nazis was morally OK and felt embarrassed. Now they were all going to get arrested and while he had the resources to make that not matter, he wasn’t sure any of the rest of them did. He had no idea what to say to any of these men. He couldn’t figure out why they hadn’t just let him get beat up. He had a wad of toilet paper shoved up his nose to stop the bleeding and he wasn’t sure where he was in the arrest cycle. At ten in the morning, there was only the five of them and two drunk guys in the cell they were in. Cell? Maybe it wasn’t a cell? He wasn’t sure what to call it. He saw Aiden come in. Aiden looked pissed.
“So,” said Aiden, as the barred door slid open, “how’s your morning going, Evan?”
“Could be worse,” said Evan. “I could be having your morning.”
“Fighting on a train? What the hell, Evan! Like we need this kind of press!”
Evan shrugged. “It seemed like the thing to do at the time.”
“Come on,” said Aiden, gesturing imperiously, “let’s get you out of here.”
“What about everyone else?” he asked, standing up.
“I’m not related to everyone else,” snapped Aiden.
Evan sat back down again.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” said Aiden. “Now? Now you want to be a good guy?”
“No,” said Evan. “I’m always an asshole. I’m just currently only being an asshole to you.”
“Fuck you!” said Aiden, and he stomped out of the room.
“He seems upset,” said Black Guy with Dreads, who was apparently named Devonte Miller.
“He doesn’t do well with surprises,” said Evan.
