Lookism: What Am I Even Doing?

Chapter Twenty-Three Prt. 1

Porfirio and I officially met when we were thirteen during one of my dad's boxing classes. Usually I'd fight with the grown ups since I had a knack for it and he was scared I'd end up scaring the kids into never coming back. My dad would joke about it all the time. He said that even some of the adults were scared of me.

But I had trouble bonding with kids my age. According to my therapist it was unhealthy for me to only surround myself with adults. She said it wouldn't be so bad if I let myself open to them but it's like I made an enemy out of everyone in my life. So meeting younger kids was supposed to soften me up.

In my defense I was a high school junior in the body of a middle schooler but it's not like I could go around saying I reincarnated from another world. They'd just lock me up in some psychiatric hospital.

Damn it, I still hate it that she was right.

That day my dad told us to pair off into teams. Not really caring who the fuck I got paired up with I waited until everyone else had finished picking their people. When Porfirio was left alone in the middle of the sparring mat I wasn't surprised at all. My dad wasn't either and I could tell he wanted me to do something about the situation.

You would've been dumb not to notice the rest of the guys picking on him. Before classes started they would grab him by the collar of the shirt then drag him into the locker rooms. All of them laughed and some of the other adults would laugh with them. Boys being boys. They said when he would come out with a bloody nose.

On countless occasions my dad would ask him if he was alright. He'd only smile at him and say he's not used to playing rough with his friends. Those weren't friends. Friends don't hurt you for the fun of it. I'd been watching them carefully since I started attending the kiddie lessons.

My dad was too afraid to tell Porfirio's mom what was going on. Rightly so, that woman would've buried those kids' bodies in the middle of the woods if she found out. And when he confronted the rest of them, they're bullying only got worse. When their parents found out, I started hearing Porfirio crying behind the studio where they would leave him.

Everyday would be the same thing. They would drag him around before class. They'd leave him be while the both of us paired up together. Then at the end of the day they'd drag him again. It's like they couldn't get enough of it.

Back then I was still in denial. I wasn't totally sure I was dead or alive. So I ignored it the best I could. But one day Porfirio didn't make it to class. The day before I noticed he had trouble breathing and the cuts underneath his shoulders. While I was wondering what could've happened I noticed them laughing.

They pushed each other around and whispered. It's like they were tossing around a great big secret that they wanted everyone to see but not know. At that moment I finally came to the conclusion that I was alive. Because if I wasn't, then why would I feel this angry?

No one held me back that day. I invited them into the ring and swung forty dollars in front of their face. Land one punch on me and the money's yours. That was the deal. Of course those assholes had so much confidence. Even though grown men were afraid of me, why would they? I'm just a girl after all and girls are weak.

Several of the adults warming up in the corner yelled at me to calm down but none of them entered the ring. Dad always told me to never let my emotions take control when I'm fighting. He says that it makes you stronger which makes you weak. I still don't get it except for the part of becoming stronger. I could feel the powerlessness of these boys as I slammed them into the floor.

It wasn't boxing. It was pure rage doing what it could to escape from my body.

I didn't want to admit it back then but I admired Porfirio. No matter what they did to him he'd always greet me with a smile. He'd ask me how my day was or talk about nonsense during the lighter sparring sessions. He'd bring me food. He'd buy me drinks. He'd make dumb jokes.