CURIOSITY, A BRIEFCASE, AND THE MYSTIC SHADOW PHOENIX

Punching Bag Of Defeat Vol. 12

"What a f--king nerd," Dramond, a beefy black boy, scoffed right before shoving Ian as hard as he could.

The overweight teen literally went flying from the force, though, he didn't fly far. The brick wall of a nearby building did an excellent job of halting his impromptu liftoff after only a couple of feet, knocking the wind out of him in the process.

Hacking breathlessly, Ian crumpled to his knees, clutching at his ribs, making pitiful wheezing noises.

"Come on. Get up, you fat f--ker," Vic, Dramond's lanky white partner in crime, ordered.

grabbing Ian's shirt, Vic pulled him back to his feet.

He only did it so that he could shove the boy again. This time, Ian didn't even find his knees after he bounced off the wall. Instead, he flopped onto his side, glasses falling off to bounce against the pavement.

Through the pain, he started to reach for them still gasping for breath, but his hand moved too slowly. There was a loud crunch as Dramond crushed the glasses under foot.

"Whoops. Were those yours, chubby tub of lard?" he asked sarcastically, laughing along with Vic.

His amusement didn't last long as Ian could do little but squirm on the ground in pain, tears escaping his eyes.

"Come on, bro. This toy's broken. We'll find him again once he's fixed. And then we'll break him again."

There was a nod of agreement from Vic and the two boys walked off, leaving Ian to his misery.

After several more moments of pain and gasping, Ian finally managed a real breath.
A few more moments after that, a young girl stepped up beside him and asked him if he was okay.

He immediately recognized her from her voice. It was Emily, the shy, quiet, caramel-skinned bookworm he believed to be the sweetest and most attractive girl in his entire grade. He had a massive crush on her, but never the confidence to befriend.

He pretended to not hear her, too embarrassed to speak.

Undeterred by his non-answer, she knelt down and took hold of his arm and helped him up enough to sit against the wall.

"I'll go get a teacher to help you," she announced as she returned to her feet and began to hurry away.

Ian cut his eyes in Emily's direction, saddened that she, of all people, had to see him like this.

"No," he softly, painfully called out to her, "I'm fine."

Any other time he would have watched her walk away until she was out of sight, entranced by the way her ponytail swung back and forth with every step and cursing himself for not being skinny, and good-looking, and confident enough to strike up a conversation with her.

"A-sholes," he hissed angrily, wishing he was stronger and able to fight back, to stand up for himself.

If he could, he'd show them what broken really was. Thoughts of broken things drew Ian's gaze to his glasses. It was his third broken pair in as many months.

"Bet mom's gonna yell at me again about taking care of my stuff," he grumbled, grabbing the broken frame before rising to his feet. "As if it was my fault that those two dimwits decide to break them, again."

Ian dusted himself off as he looked around to make sure he hadn't dropped anything else in the scuffle as well as to see if anyone else was still standing around, looking at him.

At least this time, the two boys hadn't stolen his money or torn up his clothes, like they normally did. Not that he ever wore expensive clothes or carried much money, but it was still obnoxious to lose either.

With nothing else out of sorts, Ian turned to continue his way home. It was only a couple of blocks until he made it to his apartment building, a run down, rat-infested, mess, but it was home.

He and his mom were lucky to have even this much, with his mother scraping out survival working a pair of really bad waitress jobs.

"Mom?" Ian called as he stepped into the apartment.

There was, expectantly, no reply, indicating that his mother was currently working.

Given what she did, it was best for her to work dinner shifts - that was where the money was - so she was rarely around when he got home from school.

"I wonder if there's anything to eat," Ian mused aloud, moving into the dingy little kitchen and pulling open the refrigerator.

The shelves were all but bare, with just a half finished carton of milk and some condiments sitting on them.

The cupboard wasn't really any better, but he did find some cereal to combine with the milk. It would mean no breakfast for the next day, but breakfast was easier to go without than dinner.

Bowl in hand, Ian found a seat on the couch, since there was no kitchen table, and flipped on the little TV they owned.

He didn't really watch the tv though, his gaze mostly drifting out the window to where the grime of this part of the city was clearly visible in the late day sun.

It was fitting in his mind, a sh-tty apartment sitting in a sh-tty city in the midst of a sh-tty world.