Fighting the Fall ✔

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Dustin King

"Your brilliant plan is this, eh? You know you can't avoid the house forever. It's just a little bruise, nothing huge. Just say you fell."

I nearly spat out the last bite of my ice cream. "That's a joke, right? You're joking? That's the weakest excuse in the book. I fell? He'd see through that one right away."

"Come on, Dustin." Josh dwarfed his metal chair as he leaned back, draping his arms over the sides. His head hung in disbelief. "Mr. Big Bad Boxing Star is afraid to go home because of a little bruise? For real?"

I shrugged, burying my attention in my ice cream.

"Seriously?"

I shrugged once again.

"Whatever, man. How long, exactly, do you plan to hide this from your father?"

"I'm not hiding anything. You know that. I just haven't said anything."

"Right. Great point. There's a huge difference there." He rolled his eyes. "And how, exactly, do you plan to make that..." He nodded, gesturing to my face. I knew he was mentioning the evidence of my hobby that had been printed on my left cheek. "...disappear, and before you get home? It's time to get real, Dustin. As your friend..."

I sighed. Would he quit?

"As your friend, your bro... and the wiser head of our duo, I have a word of advice."

Great. "No, thanks."

"Wait, hear me out. Ready? I think you should just tell him."

With perhaps just a little too much force, I slammed the cup of ice cream onto our table and ignored the cashier who stared in surprise. And then ignored my "bro" who made circles with his pointer beside his head to tell the cashier I was just crazy, to dismiss me.

He had the nerve to call me crazy?

"Tell him. Tell him?" I shook my head and huffed. "Sure, all right. Dad, I know I've kept this from you for years but–"

"Dude, don't be a smart–"

"–how most kids have an unhealthy obsession with video games?"

"Dustin, man..."

"Well, that's not my thing. Sorry. My hobby – my life – is illegal. Illegal."

"Dustin."

"Underground boxing, and hey, guess what else? I'm a star at it. Surprise." I laughed dryly. "Yup, I'm sure he'd love to hear it."

Josh picked his cup up from the table and scooted his chair back. I cringed as the legs scraped against the tile, squealing incessantly. Almost as irritating as his constant advice. "Whatever. No clue what your problem is, but have a nice walk home."

I watched as he left the shop and began his own walk back to our street. Typically we walked together after any match he came to watch. Thirty minutes depending on our pace, and our usual arrival times were hours of the morning that had his mother crying.

I continued eating my treat in silence. Slow bites. It melted entirely before I was done, and I couldn't bring myself to finish it off. Josh's words grated on my mind. All things considered, it shouldn't have bothered me. Not so much. Not more than the bruise that was left on my face. But it did.

He didn't understand. He didn't know, but it wasn't his fault. I knew it was only fair to grant him that.

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