Against The Odds

Chapter 2 - Bravery

I almost forget about my drawing and my weird dream from last night once I wake. The interior of the cabin is sparsely lit by the tiny grated window in the ceiling. It's a wonder how rain never gets in here. The other boys are getting dressed like I should be, but I'm not feeling at all motivated today. I force myself off of the bed, pulling up the sheets and blankets neatly behind me. All of us boys have almost identical uniforms: the same style t-shirts, all solid color, but the colors vary; in addition to that, we have one pair of khaki shorts and one long pair; and finally, we have plain black socks to go in our matching black sneakers. None of us look overly attractive, but there's no one to impress around here.

Even my dull red shirt stands out against the concrete that covers everything outside. Now dressed for the day, I leave my gray prison cell and head for the school building that is equally ugly. A few spots of dirt have broken through the flat sidewalk that covers the entire expanse of our camp aside from dry corner of soil that we use for our physical training.

Today, however, the light concrete surrounding the Final Education School Building is stained from its usual bland color. Little puddles of blood are pooling since the ground can't absorb it. It is in these small red splotches that Ryker, clearly identified as the weakest boy in my age group, lies. More often then not, Ryker gets pushed around by the stronger guys because he can't defend himself. Not to mention he's definitely on the younger end of our age group. No matter how hard he works in strength training, he never gains any muscle mass. Almost everyone is expecting him to fail his adventure.

On a regular day, I'd ignore this, but after last night, everything about me feels different. I feel brave.

The boy bullying Ryker is kneeling, about to land a killer blow to his face, even though Ryker is already suffering two deeply scraped knees and a violent nose bleed. He doesn't deserve any more. I rush closer to the scene and shove the bully's hand, rolling him on his back.

The infamous bully is known as Cash. His birth name is Warren, but at age five, he decided that he needed a cooler, tougher, and more intimidating name, so he demanded that he be called Cash. Anyone who identified him otherwise was pummeled severely. Even the instructors are fearful of him, as he towers at a mind blowing height of six feet and five inches. I've grown up with this guy for as long as I can remember, so I've learned not to mess with him. He and I have never had a clean past, but we can tolerate each other. Our relationship consists of mostly glares across the classroom and the occasional push on the sidewalks. For no real reason, we've just never gotten along.

Almost every day, Cash threatens anything from a pair of socks to homework answers out of whichever unfortunate kid happens to be near him at the wrong time, and we're all sick of it. Today, I'm doing something about it. My adrenaline is running too high to sit back and watch the routine.

Cash is utterly shocked that anyone has dared to lay a finger on him, much less interrupt his fight session. "Man, give him a break," I say. "You already have enough socks for every day of the week. What else do you want from the poor kid?"

"None of your business!" Cash shouts in his loud and deep voice, getting off of the ground and forcing me back a few steps. "And for your information, I'm not after socks. In fact, I already have what I want." He turns to Ryker. "Hand it over, kid, and no one gets hurt."

Sniffling the blood that continues to flood from his nose, Ryker uncurls himself from his fetal position and offers to Cash a small book that he had been defending. Why does Cash want a book? He has never been interested in academics before. Then I realize that the book Cash now possesses is not a school book. I'd recognize the torn khaki cover anywhere: my art journal! He can't see it! If he does, he'll see all my hard work that I've been so diligent about hiding; and if he shows it to a single adult, I'll be removed for sure.

"Let's take a look at what's so important about this stupid book," Cash teases, dangling it over Ryker's trembling body.

"Hey! That's not yours!" I make a lunge for my journal, but Cash lifts it away from my reach at the last second.

"Oh? So it means something to you too?" Keeping one shoulder between me and my book, he thumbs through the delicate pages, each one at risk of tearing from his brutality. His flipping stops at the one drawing I had hoped he would never find: my interpretation of the outside world. "Wow," he says, and for a second he actually sounds impressed. "I've never seen anything like this. It would be such a shame if this creativity, that you know we're not supposed to use, gets taken to the instructors. I'll hold onto it for you," Cash smirks.

It's clear that he knows the book belongs to me now, so I can't let him get away with it. I'm positive he'll show it to the adults to get me expelled. Without thinking twice, I launch a punch at him, colliding with his big head around his jaw and sending him staggering to the side.

"What the fuck, man?" He yells. "You really want to fight?"

"Just give me the book!" My face feels flushed, I'm probably extremely red, but I don't stop to calm down. I swing again, this time at his temple, and he collapses on the ground. His mouth is bleeding from my first hit, and he spits his blood into a mixture of his and Ryker's body fluid. I'm about to deliver the final shot, a kick to his face that will surely give him tunnel vision and me enough time to get my book and run, but suddenly, I'm restrained.

"What is going on here?!" It's the voice of our academic instructor, her tone high and distressed. "Get off of him!"

I never imagined that a woman, around fifty, would be able to contain me, but she does, dragging me away from Cash. I didn't notice before, but a large crowd of boys from our age group have gathered around us, forming a circle. Rkyer has crawled his way to the edge, blending in with all of the people, and my book lies unattended to, right next to Cash on the ground.

Mrs. Adams, the instructor, picks up my journal, and I feel my heart sink. After scanning the contents, she asks, "Who is the owner of this?"

Cash, who has made a speedy recovery after getting beaten down by me, quickly tattles, "It's Blake's."

Her cold stare falls on me. I'm screwed. "Everyone get in the building now. Except for you," she points a menacing finger in my direction. The other boys immediately bustle inside. The only victory I can take away is Cash's nearly unnoticeable sway. He seems dizzy from my hard blows to the head. I hope he passes out; maybe then he'll be declared physically unfit for adventure and he'll go straight to slavery like I probably am about to.

Only Rkyer and I are left in the gray courtyard area now. Resentfully, he approaches me. "Blake... this is my fault, and I'm sorry. I saw you up last night with a book, and I thought you were getting some extra knowledge before the history test today. Long story short, you know that smarts is the only thing I have going for me, so I got jealous that you might be learning something I don't know. I stole the book this morning just before Cash caught me." The whole time he is speaking, he stares down at his feet. "I'll take the blame if you want. Everyone knows I'm going to fail my quest anyway."

"That's brave of you to offer," I sigh, trying to take everything in, "But no. Mrs. Adams and Cash already know it's mine. Whatever happens, thanks for your honesty."

"Oh, um... you're welcome? Actually no, I didn't help you. Gosh, I don't know what to do..."

It really brings me down to see the scrawny nerd stressing out over what's going to happen to me, so I make a solid attempt at turning it into a joke. "Don't sweat it. Cash has never been beaten up before, so hopefully I hit his ego hard enough to keep him away from you. Just remember one thing for me after I get taken off."

"Anything!" He nods eagerly.

"You son of a bitch," I laugh, gently punching his arm.

He smiles genuinely. "I won't forget it."

Mrs. Adams returns with two security guys in tow. "That one," she says towards me. Looking at Ryker, she mandates, "I said get inside!"

"Yes ma'am!" Ryker peeps before scampering into the classroom. Mrs. Adams follows him indoors and slams the door behind her, a clear gesture that she's done with me.

Now I am left with the two armed and armored guards standing ominously before me, my art journal grasped tediously in a pair of tongs that one of the guards is holding, and nothing but bravery to blame for leading me here.