Hidden Depths

Chapter 1 - Rashid Runs

Rashid was only just quick enough to block the sixth former's punch. It was so long since he'd been messed with at school that he'd almost begun to let his guard down.  Almost.

He stepped in close and thrust his left arm up past the older boy's head. The move wasn't textbook but it stopped the blow before it reached full swing and his muscular shoulder absorbed the punch as if it had been thrown by a toddler.

The boys were just outside the gates, but they may as well have been in the middle of the dining hall, as hundreds of kids milled round them, jostling for pavement space on their way home from school. Only a few of the kids directly witnessed the first exchange, but word got round quickly and an excited buzz spread as the crowd grew.

Shocked by Rashid's skilful move, the sixth former threw a wild left hook, but Rash was far too quick and stepped deftly to the side. Missing completely, his opponent stumbled off balance as his fist swung through the air where his target once stood.  A few quick steps back and Rashid was out of range. He looked around to see that a human boxing ring had formed about them, as the excitable school kids quickly fell into the role of blood-thirsty onlookers.

Ignoring the baying crowd, Rashid wondered what he had done to annoy this new sixth former, who wouldn't normally be talking to, let alone fighting, a lowly year nine.  Although the older boy was as brown as him, Rashid couldn't rule out racism, as his Iraqi heritage had never gone down particularly well in his predominantly Kashmiri school.

'What's your problem, mate?' he shouted, appearing every bit as threatening as he felt.

'You just think you're so tough, don't you?' the sixth former said in a northern accent that Rash thought sounded more out of place than a Sunday roast in a Balti house. He saw that the older kid was going to attack again so he lowered his school bag and raised his guard.

The sixth former came flying at him to try a rugby tackle, but Rashid just calmly stepped aside and gave a shove that made him continue on his way at a stagger. Rash's boxing coach was fanatical about footwork so, after six years of twice-weekly training, Rash knew he'd be able to float round this angry amateur all the way home.

'Look mate,' said Rash. 'This ain't gonna end well for yer. Whatever it is, you best just leave it.'

'Yeah, right. I know who you are and I know you think you're it, but there's no way I'm going to a school where the hardest kid is a thirteen-year-old!'

Rashid had been in a hundred fights over the years, but after he had started boxing lessons the amount of time he spent outside the head teacher's office tailed off significantly. His teachers were convinced that he had finally learned some self-control, but Rash knew that the truth was really quite different.

The only reason he had not been in many fights recently was that the boys at his Birmingham high school knew he was becoming a brilliant boxer. He knew that unless they were either double hard or double stupid, none of them would dare to make fun of his family like they used to.

The new kid obviously didn't care about any of that though, and he rushed forwards, hoping to catch him with a big sloppy kick to the stomach. Rash didn't want to get into trouble for beating the kid up, but he also wasn't about to stand around and wait for him to land a lucky punch. For the first time in his life, Rashid resisted the urge to batter the kid and decided it would be best to just walk away. He stepped aside again and started plotting his route back through the crowd so he could retrieve his bag and leg it home.

'I also know where your family's from and what your dirty sister likes to do at the...'

Rashid's rage took over.  He stopped plotting his extraction and used his left fist to interrupt the sixth former mid-sentence.  The kid staggered back as the force of Rashid's punch squashed the insult back down his throat as if he'd been hit in the mouth with a cricket bat.

Without waiting for him to recover Rash moved back in range then leapt to his left, spinning all the way round to land an enormous, jumping right hook on the older boy's exposed chin.  His knees wobbled and he crumpled to the floor like an explosively imploded cooling tower.  Rashid crouched on one knee and leant over the boy who had, until recently, stood almost a foot taller than him.

The sixth former's eyes were half open but Rash had seen enough knockouts over the years to know when a system reboot was required.  He tapped the boy's cheek with the back of two fingers.

'Oi mate.'  He didn't respond so Rash shouted, 'Oi mate!'

His bulbous nose twitched before he blinked back to earth and then, recognising Rashid, he flinched as if he'd seen a ghost.  He opened his mouth and began to apologise. 

'I shouldn't...'  But Rash didn't want to hear it.

'What happened wasn't her fault and if I hear you speak about any of my family again, you'll get much more than just a couple of punches.'

The sixth former swallowed hard and nodded silently, his sneer replaced by a look of fear.  Rashid stomped off, still furious but at least satisfied that justice had been served.  As he pushed through the crowd he couldn't help himself from casting a filthy glare back, and he was surprised to see the hint of a smile appear on the kid's swollen lips.  Convincing himself that it was just a grimace of pain, Rashid broke into a jog and started his usual home time run around Small Heath Park.