Interim(120)

Not if I beat you to it, he thought smugly, and rounded the corner out of sight.

***

The force catapulted him forward. He tripped on the cracked pavement and nosedived to the ground. His reflexes saved him from crushing his face—the heels of his palms breaking the fall.

His upper back screamed, throbbing heat that rippled along his spine and through his arms.

Another blow. This one to his lower back. He cried out and rolled over on instinct. Brandon hovered above him clutching a metal rod.

“You think you’re funny now, *?” he taunted, waving the rod menacingly.

“Fuck you,” Jeremy breathed, searching for a weapon of his own.

“Not me, you,” Brandon said. “You’re the one about to get f*cked. You think you’re something special now because you’re dating my ex? Guess what? You can have her. She sucks. Like you. You guys are perfect for each other.”

“Then leave me alone,” Jeremy replied.

“Oh, no no,” Brandon said. “I’m not gonna beat the shit out of you because of Regan. I’m gonna beat the shit out of you because I f*cking hate your guts.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a f*cking *!”

Jeremy snorted. “You’re an idiot.”

Brandon swung the rod like an ax, but Jeremy was too quick. He rolled to his right and jumped to his feet. His spine screeched, sharp pains going off one by one by his tailbone.

“I’ve done nothing to you!” Jeremy yelled, jumping backwards to avoid the rod.

Brandon now used it as a sword, thrusting it forward toward his unarmed opponent. Jeremy danced around it, trying to avoid it piercing his heart.

“Sure you have,” Brandon replied. “You take up space in my school. You add to the loser population, and we don’t need any more of those.” He paused, thinking. “You look at me sometimes. Yeah, that’s right. Who the f*ck do you think you are looking at me? Did I ever say you could look at me? You keep your goddamn eyes on the ground, Scarface!”

Jeremy gritted his teeth. The arrogance of this guy. God, he f*cking hated him!

“I killed my dad,” Jeremy said low. “What makes you think I won’t kill you?”

Brandon’s head swiveled left then right. “Well, I don’t see a baseball bat anywhere, so I guess you’re shit outta luck.”

“I don’t need a bat,” Jeremy said.

“You’re saying that to a guy holding a big metal rod,” Brandon replied. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“Then drop your weapon and fight me like a man.”

Brandon burst out laughing. His cackles sent Jeremy into a rage. He plowed into his enemy, wrapping him in an angry bear hug and slamming him against the side of a building. Naturally Brandon chose an alley as his point of attack. Such a B-rated douchebag bully move.

“You need to give me a little more respect,” Jeremy growled, spit flying from his lips onto Brandon’s face. “I’m not that punching bag I was last year. Or the year before that. Or the year before that.”

Brandon pushed him off and swung wildly. The rod slipped from his grip and flew through the air, landing several yards away.

“Now what are you gonna do?” Jeremy taunted.

He watched the contortions of Brandon’s face—trapped in seething frustration. A frustrated guy isn’t a smart guy. A frustrated guy makes critical mistakes.

“Fucking kill you!” Brandon bellowed, charging Jeremy with no control.

Jeremy jumped to his left, whipped out his hand, and clasped his rival’s wrist. He used Brandon’s propulsion to swing him around and throw him easily to the ground.

Control versus no control.

He punched Brandon’s left eye. And then his right. He elbowed his nose, listening to the sickening crunch of smashed bones and cartilage. Brandon screamed in agony, throwing his fists around, making inadvertent contact with Jeremy’s ribs.

“Fuck,” Jeremy breathed, backing away, clutching his middle.

Brandon hopped up, wiping continuously at the blood oozing from his nose.

“Another go?” Jeremy asked, bracing himself for impact.

Brandon hesitated, wiping more urgently.

And that’s when Jeremy let down his guard. He made the wrong assumption and paid the price. Brandon bulldozed him to the ground in a flash, straddling him and pummeling him in much the same way his father beat him. How much more could his body take?