A Strong Kind of Weak

Chapter 2

When I got home I quietly entered through the back, carefully closing the door so it wouldn't slam. I tiptoed to the fridge and opened it. There was some salami and a few beers. Hidden in the back was a coke from who knows when and I grabbed it. As I made to leave I heard a voice call my name.

Cursing under my breath, I turned around to see my dad standing in front of me, still in his robe as he probably didn't work today.

"Hey, son. How was school?"

"Good."

"What happened to your hand?"

I looked down at the hand holding my drink and saw my knuckles were slightly bruised from punching someone. I couldn't remember who.

"I got into a fight."

"Did you win?"

"Yes."

He nodded then opened the fridge to grab a beer.

"Go do your homework then get some food. We're all out."

"I haven't gotten my pay check yet."

My dad looked at me, eyes narrowing.

"Well, I guess I'm just going to have to pay again then. When do you get your check?"

"Thursday."

"Well I expect the fridge to be full then. Guess there's no supper tonight as I bought some more beer, thinking my son, as an employed man, would have some money saved up for food."

"I have a bit, but at school-"

"Ugh, school. The whole point of public school is that the government pays for everything. Now go do your homework because I don't want another damn phone call from one of your teachers!"

I nodded and quickly ran out. Once I was a safe distance away, I checked my pockets. I had a crumpled ten dollar bill which I was saving for lunch at school but would now have to go towards TV dinners for my dad.

I drank my coke as I walked to the closest store, wincing at the flat taste. As I entered, I saw that it was pretty empty. I grabbed a basket and went to the frozen section. I only had enough for three trays, so that would have to be enough until my next pay. I turned to head towards the checkout and nearly jumped in shock to see the new kid standing in the same aisle. He was holding a tub of ice cream in both hands and carefully put it into the basket at his feet before lifting the basket, a handle in each hand, and turning. Towards me.

His eyes widened when he saw me standing there, frozen like an idiot. Probably because it was the frozen section. I inwardly winced at the awful joke and instead met the gaze of the kid.

"H-hey. You go to my school right?"

I nodded. "What's it to you?"

"I think we got off on the wrong foot. You probably just had a bad day. I'm Alex. I just moved from New York."

"Do I look like I care?" I didn't like him. His clothes were to clean and too coordinated. His nails were too trim. He was just too perfect and it unsettled me.

"Well, sorry then." He nervously ran a hand through his hair, and then his other one for some reason.

"What are you doing?"

"What? I thought you didn't care."

Rolling my eyes, I turned to walk to the checkout. Unfortunately he got into line behind me.

"Sorry. It's the shortest one."

I frowned and waited for the guy in front of me to finish before putting the trays onto the counter.

"That'll be 11.50 please."

I forgot to count the tax.

"Oh yea, one second." I gave the cashier the bill and fumbled through my pockets, trying to find change. I managed to fined a nickel before I heard the clang of change hitting the counter. I looked up to see the new kid-Alex- smiling at me.

"It's okay. I got it."

"No. It's fine. I can take care of it."

"Please, it's just a dollar."

"And fifty cents," I said before realizing how childish that sounded.

"It's fine."

I sighed in frustration as the cashier handed me my bag.

"This doesn't make me like you."

"Wasn't meant to. It's called being nice."

I glared at him and left the store, heading back home.

----

Once the TV dinners were in the freezer, I picked up my bag and made to leave right as my dad entered, smoking a cigarette and smelling like beer.

"Well? Did you get food?"

"It's in the freezer."

He crossed over and opened the door to check. "There's only three."

"That's all I could afford."

"I thought my son, with the stable job, would be able to afford more than three measly TV dinners!"

I winced, knowing what was coming.

"You know? I think I'm done with this cigarette."

He reached over and extinguished it right on my shoulder. I recoiled and took a step back. My next mistake.

"What're you running from? It's just a bit of ash. Why are you so weak, huh? Why did a strong man like me have a wimp for a son? How's that fair?"

He pulled his arm back and punched me in the stomach. I stood my ground, already having braced myself. I bit my tongue to stop any reaction. Reacting would mean weakness. Weakness meant more punches.

"That's more like it. My son should be tough, not some quivering little pansy." He punched me again, in my shoulder. When I remained standing he nodded before going to sit on his couch. I left quickly before I let myself rub my shoulder. He never hit me in the face because he didn't want the bruises to show. Then he'd get in trouble. I suppose I had to thank him for it because otherwise the principal would breathe down my neck more than he already did. I should report him, but he's my dad. Besides, he's only violent when he's mad, and he was only mad when I was weak.

So I worked hard to not be weak.