The Battle of the Century

Anthony

Anthony is Sharon's adoptive son who is 19. He's never home because he sleeps on the couch at his friend, Porter's house. We never got along with each other because he was always harassing whoever he wanted to. He scares kids into giving him what they had in their pockets, he and his goons would rough up elderly people, sexually harass teenage girls and young women, jump defenseless middle schoolers, shoplift, break into places that closed for the night, beat people who didn't need it, vandalize buildings and cars, you name it.

I spent a year and three months in juvenile hall because of him. I was fourteen at the time. He had stolen a bunch of jewelry and vandalized the shop he nabbed it from and I was with him the night he did it. He planted the stuff in my room and told the police that I had done it the next morning. Sure enough, when the cops searched my room, they found the jewelry in my nightstand and the baseball bat and spray can under my bed. When the cops tried to cuff me I said that it was Anthony and shoved him off me. The cop tried to cuff me again and I hit him. That got me a year and six months in juvenile hall but it was shortened to a year and three months because I was let out on good behavior. I stopped hanging around with Anthony after I got out.

Anthony tried to be my friend after that, but I paid more attention to Wes and hung out with him, Dale, Luther, Fred, Manny, and Denise when I cut Anthony off. Lars didn't show up until my freshman year.

Back to the story, Anthony was looking to fight me, as always. He, Porter, Jeb Peterson, and Ellis Goff all showed up in Jeb's truck. They started throwing things and screaming, which triggered Wes, Dale, and I to start running.

Jeb sped toward us and almost hit Dale. I got frustrated and threw a loose piece of asphalt and hit one of the headlights. Ellis got out and started to attack Wes with a billy club. I tackled Ellis and delivered multiple blows to his face and he started to bleed. Anthony started hitting me with his slingshot. Dale knocked Anthony in the head with a pipe. And the only one not fighting was Jeb, who was mourning over the busted grille  and the shattered headlight. I left Ellis bleeding and writhing on the ground, grabbed Dale and Wes, and took off.

We ran alleyway after alleyway, street after street, until we made it to Dale's house.

Dale's father looked up from the newspaper as our battered and bloody selves stumbled through the door.

"Dale?!" He sprung from the chair. "What happened to you boys?"

"Mr. Williamson," Wes heaved. "We got attacked."

"By who?!"

"Jeb Peterson and his boys."

"Dammit." Mr. Williamson said. "I'll be damned if they don't get sued."

"It's my fault, Mr. Williamson. They were after me." I said. "Anthony was with them. You have every right to be mad at me."

"Tom, I'm not mad at you." He said. "You just should watch out better. Now let's get you boys cleaned up."

He took us into his kitchen and got his first aid kit. He started swabbing Wes' open cuts with peroxide.

"Mr. Williamson?" Wes winced.

"You guys can call me Al." He said. "What do you need?"

"Is Dale gonna be allowed to hang out with us?"

"Yes of course. Dale would just die if he couldn't hang out with you guys." 

"Thanks, Dad." Dale bandaged up his wrist. "These guys are my best friends after all."

Al finished cleaning up our wounds and we walked home.

We got in the door and Sharon was right there, scowling at us.

"Do you wanna tell me why I just got off the phone with Ellis Goff's father?!" She got in Wes' face.

"They attacked us." I said.

"Oh I also know what happened to Porter and Anthony."

"What about Anthony?" Dad appeared from the hallway. "What did he do now?"

"They got in another fight." Sharon whined. "Also the police may be involved. Hope you're proud of your boys, George."

"The police?!" Dad lost it. "Oh my god!"

"Tom probably did it."

"No." Dad said. "I'm getting tired of you blaming Tom for everything! That damned boy of yours has got him in more trouble that I can't even express!"

"Well if you're gonna be that way, you can get out of my-"

"IT'S NOT YOUR HOUSE!" Dad howled. "IT belongs to our uncle who I just happen to be picking him and our brother up from Cheyenne."

Dad left for Cheyenne an hour later.

"You two get out." Sharon screeched.

"Well, now we're homeless." Wes said.