"Kevin," I practically squealed, holding onto his arm for dear life. "Let's get out of here. Please. We can train at your house, this is stupid, please."
He shook me off and fixed the boy called James with a glare. "All right, big man," he drawled, sneering. "Bring it on."
"Kevin, no!" I whined, backing away instinctively.
James charged forward, but not at Kevin. Too late I realized he was coming for me, slashing the air with his knife. I flinched and fell backwards on my butt and covered my face with my hands. I heard a grunt and the sound of shattering glass, and opened my eyes to see Kevin had full body slammed into him, diverting him from hitting me. James was on the ground, the knife inches away, and Kevin had him in a choke-hold, his teeth bared and eyes wild. James was choking, and reaching for the knife with his pale, thin fingers.
"Rocky, get the knife," he ordered, and I wanted to, I really did, but it was like in one of those nightmares where I was frozen in place. My knees were shaking, my legs felt like jelly, like all the times Paul beat me and I could only curl up and cry. "Rocky!" he shouted. I noticed a dark liquid dripping from his sleeve. My eyes widened. His leather jacket was slashed open on his upper arm, and blood was oozing from the wound. In a daze, I watched as James grabbed hold of the knife and plunged it in Kevin's shoulder, making him cry out in pain.
"Shit," I sobbed weakly. I was useless, a freaking damsel in distress. "Shit, shit, shit." Somehow I was moving forward, as Kevin was wrestling with him, keeping back the guy's hand that gripped the knife, straining to stab Kevin's face. But James was getting the better of him, a manic grin on his face, pressing down on Kevin's injured shoulder. "Shit," I said and aimed a kick to his head. He cried out, and in that moment, Kevin flipped him on his back, and yanked the knife from his hand, and punched him over and over until he was begging for mercy. "This is my place," Kevin spat on him. "Get the hell out." He let James stumble away, swearing, and then chased him away with his own knife. The other two boys were long gone, and so was the weird bottle.
Kevin examined the switchblade. "Not bad," he commented, wiping the blood off with his shirt. "I'm gonna keep this one."
My jaw dropped. "You are completely insane."
He smirked. "I don't believe in sharing."
I shook my head, feeling queasy. He was so unbelievably stupid. We could have just trained at his house, but no, he had to be all macho and nearly get us killed. But I bit my tongue because the last thing I wanted to do was argue with Kevin when he was injured and it was all my fault, even though he started it. I went to his bag and took out a water bottle. "Here," I said softly. "We should take care of that."
Kevin scowled at me, but he let me take off his jacket. The process was slow, and I was as gentle as I could, but he still winced in pain. Then I used the knife to cut off his shirt around the wound, so I didn't hurt him anymore. I poured water over his arm, cleaning the wounds to inspect the damage. The one on his shoulder didn't look too deep, mostly bruising, but there was a jagged gash on his upper arm. If it wasn't for his leather jacket taking most of the damage, he would probably need to be hospitalized. Thankfully, it wasn't too wide.
"We need to stop the bleeding," I said, chewing my lip. I yanked my shirt over my head, which almost took off my undershirt as well, but I straightened it. Kevin handed my the switchblade, and I cut the shirt into haphazard strips, making a bandage like they did in the movies. I didn't really know what I was doing, but I was supposed to stop the blood flow, right?
Kevin let me attend to his wounds, watching me with intently. The blue of his irises was so pale, I always knew exactly what he was looking at, and right now, he was looking straight into my eyes. I flushed and broke the contact, and finished wrapping his arm, fingers trembling. "There," I said stupidly. "When you get home, you should put some antibiotics on that," I added, though Kevin most likely knew that since he got into fights so often. After today, I could see why. Kevin had no chill.
YOU ARE READING
Knockout Boys
Teen FictionNot every kid starts high school in sophomore year. Then again, not every kid is a scrawny gay nerd named Rocky Apollo living in Bum Ass Nowhere, USA. Not every kid has to put up with constant bullying from a childhood friend. As if that weren't eno...