The Aftermath (The Hurricane, #2)(2)

The next day we headed to John Callaghan’s gym after school, and after hanging around outside for a bit, we built up the courage and went in. It was four in the afternoon and already pretty busy, mainly with older boys like John, who was already changed and going at it on one of the heavy punch bags. I itched to join him. Finally some guy noticed us and stared suspiciously.

“What do you two want?” he asked us.

“Can we train here?” I called back.

“No, you’re too young. Owner’s rules are you need to be at least sixteen.” I wanted to tell him to f*ck off and that we were sixteen, which we weren’t, but I couldn’t risk pissing the owner off if they were friends.

“That’s it then,” Kier said as we walked back down the steps.

“Fuck him,” I said. “He doesn’t own the place. We’ll just hang about for the owner to get here. I’ll offer to do jobs for him and see what he says.” ’Course we weren’t known for our patience, and by the time the guy actually showed up, we were scrapping outside the doors.

“What the feckin’ hell are you two little shites doin’?” the owner asked us.

“We want to train here,” I told him. “We ain’t got money but we both hit good and we work hard. We can sweep up and do jobs and stuff to pay our way,” I told him in one great big rush, trying to spit it all out before he stopped me.

“I don’t train kids. You’ve got to be sixteen to fight here,” he said and walked past us, through the doors.

“Can we go home now?” Kier asked. “I’m starving.” Kier’s ma cooked like nobody I ever met. She let me eat with them almost every night and I think she must have known how things were at home. She never said anything but she came to parent teacher meetings for me or, if the school ever called, backing up my story that Ma was really sick. Never one to turn down a meal, I went with him but dragged him back every day for a week until the owner, Danny, gave in and let us train there once. After that he couldn’t get rid of us. One night there and I was totally addicted. After a couple of months, John was scheduled to fight one of the boys from a gym across Canning Town. The night before the fight, Danny told all of us to grab our coats, and he dragged us to church. We knew some of the other kids had to go to church before a fight, but he’d never asked us to go before.

“What’re we doing here?” I asked.

“He goes to church to clear his head and get ready for the fight. You want to be part of this gym, then you go too or you don’t get to train. That’s the way this family works.”

It was clear that Danny wasn’t messing around. So I sat on the bench with my hands in my pockets looking bored, and Kieran sat next to me the same way. Finally Father Pat came out to get me.

“So, Cormac, Danny tells me that you like to fight,” he said as he showed me to my seat.

I wanted to tell him that of course I liked it, why else would I hang around at Danny’s, but I didn’t think Danny would appreciate me being sarcastic to Father Pat and I couldn’t afford to piss him off.

“You can call me Con, Father. Everyone else does,” I answered. “And yes. Makes me feel better.”

“About what, son?” he asked.

“About everything,” I answered.

“I understand that it’s getting you into a bit of trouble at school though,” he added. I shifted about on my seat wondering how he could have known that.

“I don’t need school anyway. Me and Kier are going to leave as soon as we can. Get a job in construction before I become a boxer full-time.”

“I see,” he said with a smile. “You have it all worked out then.” I nodded in answer. “Being a professional boxer requires a great deal of discipline you know,” he told me.

“I ain’t afraid of hard work. I can train as hard as the other boys do,” I argued.

“I’m sure Con. But that’s not what I meant.”

I frowned at him, pissed off that he thought I wouldn’t be as dedicated as the older kids. I could kick half their arses now.

“You know, there’s a story of an old Cherokee man who told his grandsons, ‘There is a battle between two wolves inside us all. One is Evil. It’s anger, jealousy, greed, resentment, inferiority, lies, and ego. The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, humility, kindness, empathy, and truth.’ The boy thought about it and asked, ‘Grandfather, which wolf wins?’ The old man quietly replied, ‘The one you feed.’ I don’t know who said it, but it’s a good story.”

“I don’t get it,” I answered, confused. “What does it mean?”

“It means, Con, that you’ve been dealt a bad hand in life. But one day, you have to decide what kind of man you want to be. You have to choose which wolf you feed.”





Chapter 1



It never occurred to me that mail was something to fear. Not until the day I came home and found Em sitting on the floor, her arms wrapped around her knees, and a ripped open white envelope on the bed behind her.

“Sunshine, what’s wrong?” I asked. She swallowed hard and sniffed a few times like she was trying to hold back tears long enough to talk to me. I reached for the envelope, thinking it would give me some clue as to why she was so clearly freaked out.