September 2009.

  The first semester of my junior year of high school. After a long summer break, the school days were back.

  Did I enjoy it?

  Hell no. I wasn't particurly fond of school life. I preferred the quiet discipline of my Karate dojo, or locking myself in my room to py my favorite video games.

  My only real connection to the school was Alvin. We spent our afternoons gaming until the sun went down. People probably called us nerds. I didn't care. I never gave a damn about what other people thought of me.

  Thwack. A bony fist lightly clipped my bicep.

  "Why the hell are you spacing out, dude? Our bus is here."

  I blinked, looking down at Alvin. He was shifting his weight anxiously, backpack strapped tight to his shoulders.

  "Stop hitting me, Al," I said, my voice ft and even. "Let me enjoy the quiet for a minute."

  "Chill, man." Alvin ughed. "When you stare off into space like that, your resting face looks like a mob hitman. You're going to creep all the girls out and die alone."

  I looked at him, my expression completely unchanged. "You should worry about yourself, Al. You need to learn how to throw a real punch. You can't just let the jocks push you around forever. I’m not always going to be your guard dog."

  "...."

  Alvin froze. The nervous smile dropped off his face, his shoulders slumping as he stared at the pavement. "Right. Sorry, Daeron."

  Shit. I exhaled slowly. I didn't mean to cut him down; I was just being practical. But I always forgot how fragile he was.

  "Ah, don’t look so down, man." I nudged his shoulder lightly to break the tension. "Come on. Let's get on the bus."

  We were an odd pair. Alvin was a walking target. Me? I just wanted to be left alone. But the jocks couldn't handle someone who didn't flinch when they barked. During my freshman and sophomore years, they tried to taunt me. I never started the fights, but the second they crossed the line, my dojo training took over. I broke a few noses.

  Because of that, the rest of the student body treated me like a ticking time bomb. They avoided me.

  Eventually, Alvin and I just gravitated toward each other. I didn't mind the jocks taunting him because it gave me a perfectly good reason to y them out. But hanging out with me only made them hate Alvin more. So, we stuck together. A quiet guy and a nerd, daring anyone to test us.

  *

  Riiiiing!

  The lunch bell cut through Mr. Phillips’s endless, droning history lecture.

  I stretched my arms, cracking my neck. "Let’s hit the courtyard, Al. I need to breathe actual air."

  "Dude, no." Alvin reached into his bag and pulled out two neatly wrapped bento boxes. "My mom packed lunch. She made extra for you. Let’s just eat in the cssroom where it's quiet."

  My eyes lit up, my usual stoicism cracking just a little. "Are you serious? Tell Mrs. Peter I love her. I'm going to marry her."

  "Fuck, man, that’s gross!" Alvin cringed, holding the boxes away from me.

  "Shut up and be grateful she can cook. Now come on, we are eating outside."

  "Dude, no!" Alvin hissed, adjusting his gsses. "The jocks always hang out in the courtyard. If they see us, they'll start taunting us."

  "Let them," I said, my voice dropping back to its usual calm, unbothered tone. I grabbed my bento box from his hands. "They’ll start shit whether we're in the courtyard or hiding in a cssroom. I'm not eating my lunch in a closet. And don’t worry, dude..." I met his eyes. "I got you."

  It took a few minutes of arguing, but I finally dragged him outside into the sun. The food was worth the risk. Mrs. Peter's cooking was a masterpiece. Halfway through my meal, I was already plotting how to quietly steal the rest of Alvin's rice.

  *

  "Forgot the drinks," I muttered, staring at the dry rice. "Wait here, Al. I’ll hit the cafeteria. Need anything?"

  "Just water. Hurry up."

  I kept my pace steady, but I didn't waste time. Leaving Alvin alone in the open was risky. The jocks were like sharks; they could smell weakness. Still, I refused to eat in the cafeteria. It was a suffocating, loud nightmare of hormones and terrible food that perpetually smelled like a horse's ass.

  I was at the vending machine when a frantic tap hit my shoulder.

  "You’re Alvin’s friend, right?" A girl was panting, pointing back toward the gss doors. "You need to hurry! My friend is getting cornered because she tried to help Alvin!"

  My expression didn't change, but my heart rate dropped into a slow, focused rhythm. The Tiger was awake.

  I walked out of the cafeteria and broke into a sprint down the hall.

  I pushed through the courtyard doors. A crowd was forming. In the center, shielding a cowering Alvin, was a girl with fiery ginger hair. She was tiny compared to the guys surrounding her, but she had her chin thrust out, gring up at Brook—the varsity linebacker whose nose I had broken the previous semester.

  I stepped smoothly through the crowd, coming to a halt right beside the ginger girl.

  "Brook," I said. I didn't raise my voice. I didn't need to. "Do you need another adjustment?"

  Brook flinched at the sound of my voice. He recovered quickly, sneering down at me. "Look at that. Alvin’s psycho dog came running back."

  His cronies chuckled, shifting their weight nervously. They remembered what happened st time.

  "Try it," I said, my voice dead calm. I took one deliberate step into his personal space, my eyes locked on his. "But this time, I'm not stopping with you. Your clowns will get adjusted, too. Let's see how you py on Friday with a wired jaw."

  Brook's eyes flickered with actual hesitation. His knuckles turned white.

  "Enough!"

  The ginger girl stepped between us, shoving her hands against Brook's massive chest. "Move your ass, Brook! Stop bothering people like a toddler! Grow up! You look like my uncle, but you cry like a baby!"

  Someone in the crowd snorted. Then, full-blown ughter erupted.

  Brook’s face turned the color of a brick. He gred at me, trying to salvage his pride. "Lucky for you, psycho. Mommy stepped in." He gave the girl one st dirty look before signaling his crew. They turned and slunk away.

  I rexed my stance, the adrenaline fading.

  "And you!"

  I blinked. A small, furious finger was suddenly shoved right between my eyes.

  "Stop causing trouble!" the ginger girl scolded, her green eyes bzing. "You fight constantly! You’re a terrible influence on Alvin!"

  I looked at her. She was breathing hard, her cheeks flushed with adrenaline. I looked down at her legs.

  "Shut up," I said smoothly, swatting her finger out of my face. "Your knees were trembling the whole time you were standing up to him. Don't py the hero when you're terrified."

  I didn't wait for her response. I turned my back to her. "Come on, Al. Let's move."

  I took exactly two steps.

  BANG!

  The impact came from behind, a perfectly aimed, ruthless kick straight upward into my groin.

  "FUUUCCCKKK!!"

  My brain short-circuited. I dropped like a stone, hitting the concrete and curling into a fetal position. A sickening, nauseating pain radiated from my core, paralyzing every muscle in my body.

  "You Cheeto bastard!!" I gasped out, my voice two octaves higher than normal.

  "You ungrateful prick!!" she shrieked down at me, completely unrepentant. "I stand up for your friend and you mock me?! You psycho bitch!"

  I heard her heavy, angry footsteps storming away across the courtyard. I couldn't even open my eyes to watch her go. I was too busy trying not to throw up.

  A shadow fell over me. Alvin crouched down, pushing his gsses up his nose.

  "Man," Alvin whispered. "That must really hurt."

  "What do you think, you idiot?" I groaned, rolling onto my side. "Don't just look at me... lift me up."

  What's wrong with her? Fuck!