I Will Not Die in this Town

On the Basketball Court

Ami's knuckles thrust forcefully through the air, her hand moved so fast that a wave of heat engulfed each callus centimeter of cracking skin. The six-foot-two girl's knuckles came in to direct contact with Weston Bryer's left cheek. Before Ami lay a seemingly shorter brown-haired boy. She felt the imprint of his upper canine tooth pierce her middlemost finger upon impact. It wasn't a sensible move on his behalf to smile at her while the punch came into contact. His angular tooth, now chipped. The boy was a seventeen-year-old with an identity crisis. He beset two paths, continue a life of simplicity, embracing the opportunities of a family business, or leaving and admitting to himself that he isn't the son his parents wanted him to be. For the present, he rode the coattails of anyone above him, constantly seeking admiration and attention, the kind not received from his parents or elder brother. Ami shifted her weight to straddle his chest tighter. Squeezing her inner thighs tightly to keep hold of him. She endured him squirm against the pavement. Ami also faced two paths in life, either she admitted her feelings for Weston, or she could continue to get into physical altercations until the day she left that God-forsaken town. Although their fighting looked serious to the standard onlooker, the two rarely minded a bruised cheek or braised elbow. Today was different, Weston had set Ami off and she wasn't going to take it, not minding her intimate feelings for the boy.

His sudden cough startled her, he managed to loosen one of his arms. Using the back of his hand, he wiped away the blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. Ami almost felt bad for him, looking down at the agonizing expression. He dropped his head to the pavement and avoiding her awkward gaze. Shifting her line of sight to an adolescent child sitting on a park bench, witnessing the scene, Ami began to relish in the fact that she had won this fight. She decided one more solid hit would knock him out. Lengthening her spine, she relinquished her left arm high. Blood rushed to her head so hard that her ears began to ring. An encouraging cry came from the direction of her step-sister, Nora, a mass of light brown curls swirling around her face from the day's boisterous weather.

The shouting from the audience of middle schoolers and the entirety of the senior class at Welsh High behind her grew louder. Next to Nora, an odious blue pickup pulled in. Nora knew that Ami was screwed now. She began shouting, trying to capture her sister's attention. No use, Ami couldn't discern anything. She leaned in really close to Weston's limp face, beginning to regret how much she'd wounded him. Suddenly, he shifted his head directly towards her, not minding the way his scalp scraped the concrete. An insolent smile spread across his broken lips, the skin of them cracking. Uh Oh, Ami thought. Weston had regarded Ellis out of the corner of his eye, getting out of his pickup, the holster on his hip containing a gun. Weston grasped the gravity of the situation. Torn between protecting Ami from his brother or merely assuring him not to escalate the situation, he alternatively knew right now was his opening.

If it looked like he was winning, perhaps Ellis would step aside, watch as the others did weekly. In one swift motion, he spits a clot of blood directly onto Ami's hovering face. Her cropped deep tawny hair and olive skin now splattered as if the wine was thrown right in her face. But the smell of this liquid was neither sucrose nor indulgent in taste. No, this viscous substance, dripping from her chiseled nose onto a now quivering prominent lip, was metallic and sharp, blinding her senses with its sudden appearance. She paused to clean up the mess on her face, hyper-aware of her appearance now. Behind her, Ellis had already wrapped a firm grip around her punching fist, stopping in midair in her attempt to getaway. It happened rapidly. Suddenly she found herself as the one laying on the cold blood-spattered basketball court. Ellis looked down at her pitifully, he smirked then screamed something to their audience. Her ears still ringing, unable to interpret the extent of what had been said. Weston now lay by her side, coughing and clutching his chest, had she broken a rib? The elder brother's foot advanced to her torso, it came down with all his weight in one blow. Her vision went blank, all the air left her lungs. Unable to breathe she sat frozen in place, eyes beginning to close. The only sounds she truly heard were Nora's distant shouts and Weston pleading with his brother. Why did Weston care? Everything suddenly went cold and dark.