Escapade

Chapter Sixteen: Hawaiian Shirts and Specialties

The door led to the back of the garage, where Mr. Lucci dropped me down on a pile of old auto shop clothes and placed the object he was holding into his pocket. He was swift in his movement, but I managed to catch a glimpse of something small and silver disappear into his jeans. I wanted to move away, but I was too tired and the pain was keeping me from standing up. It felt like my lungs were slowly collapsing in on themselves, and a slight feeling of nausea was setting in. It felt like he left an imprint of his punch on my skin.  My family would've been ashamed to see the state I was in: too weak and in pain to stand up. They probably would've told me to stand up anyway, just as they had when they first taught me to fight. But they never caused this much pain, and I wasn't with my family now.

 "I wouldn't try to move, if I were ya," Mr. Lucci said, peering at me as he hoisted his jeans up. "My punches can send someone to their grave, and movin' around won't help ya."

 His words were met with a look of hate. It was the best I could muster, and along with the look I hurled several curses and names at him in my mind.

The teacher threw his head back and roared in laughter. "Yes! That's the look I want. Keep on hatin' me, it'll do ya good. Turns ya into a bitter little shell of who ya used to be, but it sure feels better than just mopin'."

He crept closer to me and kneeled to my level. He was so close that I could smell the stench of his breath and see a trickle of sweat slide down his forehead. "You an' me, we're gonna set things right. Just as we should have that day. Now, I don't wanna hear a peep from ya until we're done getting' to where we need to be. If ya scream or say one word I'll break your arm. Two, your other arm. The more ya do, the more limbs I break 'till I'll have to break your little neck. Understand?"

I nodded slowly.

 Vinny smiled. "Good. Now, anyone asks what's goin' on, what do ya say?"

 I tried to wrack my brain for a clever answer, or at least the answer he wanted to hear, but I was too distracted from the pangs rolling at me from the wound on my stomach to say a word.

 "Well?" he said. "What, what's wrong? Can't talk? Does the little baby have a stomach ache?"

 My response was a well-aimed ball of spit on the bridge of his nose. I knew I was going to pay for it, but my pride got the best of me and before I thought it through the spit landed on Mr. Lucci's nose. His face was scrunched up into a sour expression. He took an oil-smeared handkerchief out of his pocket and rubbed it on his nose, removing the spit and leaving a black smear on his face. I braced myself for whatever he was going to do next, but all he did was grunt in disgust and put his handkerchief back into his pocket. He stood up and turned away, walking a few steps away with his arms on his hips. He looked like he was thinking about something. In the distance I heard Richie yelling, and the shrill voice of a woman in response. A husky voice was added into the mix, and then —a swoosh of air as the teacher ran back at me and kicked me in the stomach. The force of the kick was so hard that tears sprung up in my eyes and I was knocked onto the ground, unconscious.

 It felt like I only blinked when I was brought back to consciousness. I woke up with a gasp. The pain in my stomach wasn't as bad any more, and I was able to breathe more evenly, but the imprint of Vinny's fist on me was still there. I was lying in a tub with my face underneath the showerhead, which was raining down freezing water on me. I got up with a moan and pushed myself slowly out of the tub. The showerhead must've been on for a while, since there was a small pool of water already filling the tub. I was still fully clothed, and my shirt felt heavy with the weight of water on it. The only thing missing was my jacket. The cold water made my boots tighten around me, so I untied them and felt around for the knife I usually had tucked inside, finding nothing. I sighed, sitting on the floor with my boots in a soggy heap next to me. The bathroom was unfamiliar to me, and I was pretty sure the teacher was somewhere around, ready to do whatever it was he was planning on doing when I came back to consciousness.