Knockout Boys

Chapter 4: Will to Survive

"Stop!" I cried out, covering my face with my hands. "You jerk! Stop it!" A black wave of panic pulsed through me. I couldn't breath. Blindly, I lashed out, and felt my knuckle strike bone.

I opened my eyes, which had been shut. Kevin was rubbing his jaw with a rueful grin. "That's what I'm talking about," he said. "Do it again." This time, I didn't hold back, and Kevin didn't block me. I moved to strike him hard, watched him flinch in anticipation but hold himself in place. My fist connected with his face.

"Damn, kid," he muttered, holding his nose. Blood trickled out from under his fingers. "You could've broke something." He got up and grabbed some tissues by the wall.

"I guess we're even now," was my pathetic attempt at a joke. Sweat poured down my temple.

"Guess we are."

He was kind of funny with the tissues up his nose, like a human walrus. But I was too wired to be amused. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt.

Kevin looked at me strangely. A slight smile was playing in his lips. "You did good today, Rocky," he said. I blinked. I did, didn't I? A rush of pride warmed my already beet red face. I looked away, unsure how to respond. But Kevin was already leaving the room. Curious, I followed him to the fridge, where he pulled out near empty pack of cold beers.

"I - I don't drink."

"Shut up." He handed me the six pack and threw the tissues in the garbage. There was still some blood smeared on his face, but aside from that and messier hair, he seemed unruffled by the fight. "This way," he went to a room I assumed was his. It was a complete mess, trashed with old clothes, cigarettes, and magazines. Posters covered the walls: motorcycles, sports cars, Metallica memorabilia ... and naked men with washboard abs. I chose not to comment.

Kevin kicked a window open, then crawled out on the roof. "Ya coming or not?" he yelled from the outside.

Hands shaking, I followed. I handed him the cold beers and he helped me up with a free arm.
Nervously, I glanced down the rooftop shingles. Any wrong move could send me tumbling down five stories. I sat down, feeling dizzy.

Kevin was still standing, watching the sunset. It really was beautiful, the way he stood, head tipped back to the breeze, behind him a fiery sun disappearing into the forest beyond. "Wow," I said aloud.

He glanced at me. "Nice view, huh?"

"Yeah," I breathed. I was a little in awe at the way the wind pushed up his shirt.

Kevin sat down and reached into the widow to pull out a set of keys. "Shotgun?" he offered.

I shrugged. "Just one," I said.

He grinned, then stabbed the beer can with a key. "Drink fast," said Kevin and popped it open. The beer rushed out in a frothing blast. I leaned forward to catch it in my mouth. I gulped it down quickly, the bubbly liquid dripped cold and refreshing down my chin. I never felt so frat.

Kevin's face got close to mine, startling me. Briefly, I wondered about that eyebrow scar. But Kevin only took the beer stream in his mouth and drank the rest in a rush. Then he burped.

I felt that need too, but had suppressed it because it seemed impolite. I let out a loud burp too and laughed. I was dirty, gross, dead tired and aching, but having fun like I hadn't in a long time.

"Kevin," I said, thinking about the posters.

He was getting another beer and a cigarette. "What?" The unlit cigarette was bitten between his perfectly straight teeth.