Rising Tide

Chapter 3: One Punch

I jogged down the steps of the front of the school with the herd of students heading home for the day. I was going to stick around either. Shoving my hands in the pockets of my blazer, I started the walk home. I hadn't practice my piano this morning again. My mom was going to be nagging me until I got it done. It was better just to do it before my dad got home.

"Hey, Zale!"

I quickened my pace. I knew that voice and I wasn't going to stop to talk to that idiot.

"Zale, where are you going?"

I was hit in the back of the head. Rubbing the spot, I watched the basketball bounce down the sidewalk. Thomas and his usual group of friends stop a few feet away.

"Looks he's going to cry," one whispered to another.

I glared at him. "What do you want?"

Thomas shrugged with a stupid look on his face. "Thought you might want to play with us." He smirked at me. "Then again, you might start crying again. Maybe my little brother need someone to play with him."

"Fuck off," I muttered.

Thomas pressed a hand to his chest. "Excuse me?"

"Fuck. Off." I grabbed the basketball and threw it across the street.

"Hey!" A boy ran off to go get it.

"You think you're tough, right? The big shot in his nice house with rich parents. You're fucking pathetic. A whiny little baby. The only reason anyone puts up with your bullshit is because of your sister."

I clenched my jaw. "She's not interesting in a dipshit like you."

"What did you say to me?" He stepped forward.

I dropped my bookbag on the ground. "She's not interesting in a dipshit like you."

"Dude, don't," whispered the boy behind Thomas. "He broke that kid's jaw last year, remember?"

Thomas took a deep breath but didn't move any closer. "Whatever. I'd fight you but I don't hit babies." He grinned at me. "And I can already see you're about to cry."

My body and fist moved on its own. Thomas was on the ground with blood pouring out of his mouth and nose. My chest tightened at the sight. I did it again. I cursed under my breath and grabbed my bag. The other gathered around Thomas as I made my escape.

Their voices grew louder and more people were arriving. I started to run, my eyes burning. I didn't stop until I made it to the stoop. I hurried up the steps to the front door and wiped my eyes. The second time in two weeks I had come home with reddened eyes. Even worse, I let my temper get the best of me and hit someone again. I rested my head on the door. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad because it was after school hours. Probably not, but I could hope.

Opening the door, I tossed my bookbag to the side and took off my shoes.

"Zale?" called my mother. "Zale, is that you."

"Yeah."

"The piano is calling your name. Get it done before your father gets home."

"I will." I went upstairs to my room and changed my clothes.

My hands were still shaking as I did up the button on my jeans. It was Thomas's fault. If he hadn't called my a baby, I wouldn't have done. I sat down on my bed and rubbed my face. It was a stupid excuse. My father would never go for it and neither would the school. The only reason they didn't kick me out last year was because my father made a large donation. I fell back and wrapped my arms around my face. The tears hit. I couldn't stop them. The more I thought about it the more frustrated and anger I became.

"Zale?" My mother knocked on the door.

I quickly turned onto my side, facing away from the door. "Yeah?"

She entered and stood by the doorway. "What happened?"

I shrugged. "Nothing." I tried to wiped my face without her seeing.

"Erika came home."

I gave up. Rolling to my stomach, I cried into comforter.

My mother hurried over and sat down by my head. She played with my hair. "It's okay. Breath, just let it out and it'll pass."

Calming down a little, I slowly sat up. "I hit someone."

She nodded. "I know."

"It just happened. I didn't mean to. He just kept going on and on and then he was on the ground."

She put her arm around me. "Some girls saw what happened and told Erika. I know he provoked you, but Zale"—she shook her head—"the school already on rough terms with you."

"I'm sorry." I wrung my hands in my lap.

My mother grabbed my chin and pulled my head closer. She kissed my cheek and patted the other. "Go downstairs and let it out. I'll go meet your father at the bus stop and we'll talk. Alright?"

I swallowed hard. "He's going to be so mad at me."

"I'll take off the initial shock, but I know he's going to want to talk to you." She stood. "Once you're done downstairs, piano practice." She lifted a finger. "You're not getting out of that no matter what. Got it?"

I smiled. "Got it."

***

I stumble through the last page of sheet music. My hands were not cooperating, but I was so nervous for when my father came home. Erika was lounging on the couch behind me, reading something on her phone. I finished the last section and the door opened. My heart dropped into my stomach.

"Ezekiel Zale Thornton," said my father voice.

Closing my eyes, I didn't move.

"Wow, full name," whispered Erika.

"Upstairs now," order my father, pointing to my sister. "Close your bedroom door. You'll be in trouble if I find you hiding at the top of the stairs."

With a sigh, she stood and went to do as she was told. My mother walked past to the kitchen. The sounds of pans and dishes being moved around sounded soon after.

"Zale."

I turned slowly and faced him.

He nodded to the coach. Standing, I shuffled over and sat down in the corner. My father took the middle seat. Leaning over my lap, I picked at my fingernails.

My dad let out a deep breath and placed his arm along the back of the couch. "Why did you hit that boy?"

I shrugged. "He threw a basketball at my head." I kept my eyes pointed at the window. "He said some stuff. I'm sorry. It just happened."

He grabbed my hand and looked at my knuckles. I had a cut on one of them from Thomas's teeth.

"Did you clean this?"

I nodded.

"I'll go to the school in the morning and figure it out. Stay home tomorrow so we can let this die down."

I nodded again.

"I know I'm hard on you, Zale. I just want to make sure you can handle the real world. Being a teenager can be tough, but the adult world has its own obstacles."

Swallowing hard, I glanced at him.

"We're going to keep working on this, alright?" He put his hand on my knee and gave it a squeeze. "You're grounded, though. Two weeks."

"I figured," I said quietly.

He patted my leg and stood. "Extra practice time too. I know you've been slacking." He went into the hallway. "Go do your homework until dinner. And let your sister know, if she doesn't do as she's told," he yelled up the staircase, "she's going to be grounded too."

A door slammed soon after. I smiled to myself as my father shook his head.

"That girl. I need a drink." He headed for the kitchen.

Once alone, I fell back into the couch and could finally breathe easy. Thank god my mother had told him before he got home or that talk would've turned out completely different.