Dylan

∥fight club∥

There were various ways to start high school on the right foot.

For Dylan, being seen shopping with his mom for back to school supplies was probably not one of them. Neither was kissing her goodbye when she dropped him off for school. Of all the things that could've granted him unwanted attention—his quick temper, his acne problem, his warm tan skin—he never expected to be picked on for having a decent relationship with what was left of his family.

The snickers in the hallway followed him like a drawn-out shadow. Dylan ignored them, because shadows were that, timid things that trailed behind. They didn't pose real threat.

But then in class, they learned about Athenian tragedies. When the name Oedipus was dropped like an anchor, he heard his name Dylan Reyes in between coughs. That and other things. The shadows stood up, loomed over him, and swamped his composure.

He was pretty sure the perfect high school life didn't involve sitting in the principal's office, either.

He didn't want his mom here. She just made partner and she shouldn't have to deal with this, especially when the report Mr. Evans gave to her was stretched truth.

Assaulted a classmate. Violent tendencies. Anger issues. Needs therapy. The phrases buzzed in midair without registering meaning, like insects, or something that he could crush with his fists. Felt like they were talking about some stranger. Dylan concentrated on the peeled wallpaper beside the book shelf.

He wasn't angry. He was fed up.

"Assault?" Dylan's mom said. "He hit the desk. That's vandalism, at most. Not assault."

"Did you know he also threatened someone with a wrench?"

"Why is Dylan the only one sitting here?" She folded her arms. "Are you doing anything about the incest insults they're harassing him with?"

"If your son is a victim of bullying, he should tell an authority instead of taking matters into his own hand."

At this Dylan snorted. "Tell an authority? What a magical solution. I wonder why I haven't thought of it."

Mr. Evans breathed through his nose.

Dylan leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. "If that worked, there'd be no bullying in the world. With all due respect, sir."

Mr. Evans talked of suspending him if he kept up his defiance. Dylan snorted some more. He'd love to stay out of school for a few days if not for the fact that he'd cause her more trouble; his class was full of pricks anyway. His mom mentioned she would sue the school if her son was the only one made to apologize.

When they left the office, Dylan turned to her. He used to have to raise his head, but during the summer he had finally gotten a small growth spurt. "I'm sorry, mom." He wasn't sorry at all. "I was just...I don't know why anyone can find the idea of having a single mom funny."

"Yeah, Dill. What were you thinking, punching his desk?"

"Sorry."

"Next time he says it, punch his face."

"Mom." Dylan chuckled. She was too doting and he knew it. Maybe she was overcompensating. He asked for an eyebrow piercing, she said yes. Wanted a pool table, he got it. When he brought up getting a tattoo, she asked if one was enough. He liked being spoiled rotten by her and he felt he deserved it.

"I have to get back to the firm now. Try to stay out of trouble for the rest of the day?"

Dylan cracked his knuckles. "I'll try."

She was only a few steps away, leaving behind her smile and a hug, when someone stopped next to him.

"Damn. Is that your mom?"

Dylan whipped his head around.

Jake Lancaster. The Jake Lancaster. This guy came to their school 2 months late, missed the basketball team tryout, yet somehow landed on the varsity team while Dylan struggled so hard to make JV. This was the Jake Lancaster who sat with the juniors and seniors at lunch everyday. This was the Jake Lancaster who got an offer of a modeling contract at the ripe old age of fourteen, but rumor had it that the only thing he accepted at the agency was a date with not one but two of the models.

It was instant hate.

"Yes." He scowled. "Do you have a problem?"

Jake whistled. "Yeah, I have a problem and she can probably fix it."

Dylan didn't need this, especially not today. "Dude, she's my mom."

"She's a bombshell. She looks like Eva Longoria, but younger," Jake said.

Dylan let the first few sentences pass, but Jake just couldn't take a hint. He wasn't nearly done, and he was getting more perverted by the second.

This time Dylan punched his face.

Jake may be a good few inches taller but he was no match for Dylan when it came to fighting. He stumbled back, looking dazed and lost, like he didn't understand what was happening. "Man, what the hell? It was a compliment!"

It was like hitting an innocent child. Dylan waited for him to hit him back, but his fists never came.

Dylan knew he overreacted. There were lots of people that deserved a good punch, but it wasn't this idiot.

A while later, Jake squinted into the bathroom mirror and observed his cut lips. "You messed up my face," he complained. There was no trace of anger in his tone, only surprise.

"You're ugly anyway," Dylan said.

At this Jake turned to grin at him. He was one hell of a good-looking dude. "Well...that's not what your mom said last night."

For a second Dylan thought he was asking for the second round, but Jake had an infectious grin, like he was nudging him with that grin, saying, come on, laugh. Take it easy.

"You should put some ice on that," Dylan said, looking at the bruise forming on Jake's cheekbone.

Jake touched a finger to his face and shrugged. "Nah, I'm good. I think I look like Tyler Durden now."

This guy was so blissfully stupid it made him likable. And Fight Club was Dylan's favorite movie. He opened his mouth and closed it again, trying to arrange an apology on his tongue. "Look, man—"

"Do you wanna shoot some hoops?"

They played basketball for the rest of the afternoon. Jake was tons better at it, but they both pretended they didn't notice. It was a good game, and they worked up a good sweat. Nothing needed to be clarified about what happened earlier. 

The next day at lunch, Jake sat down at their table. It was like a super nova landed and lit up the whole area, but he had the kind of light that was bright but not blinding, like he was saying, I'm awesome but I won't hold it against you.

Janet chewed more quietly today. Sean laughed at all his jokes.

"What happened to your face?" Sean asked.

"A girl hit me." Jake put a handful of fries in his mouth and grinned. "But it's fine. I was asking for it."

The next day, he sat down again with them. For the next four years, he never left.

***

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