A Good Beating
In seventh grade I fucked up Jeremy so bad my knuckles were probably as swollen as his eye. Jeremy was the scrawny white boy who lived down the street in the house with the dead lawn, broken fence, and chipped-brick walls. He would bike to and from school everyday. I’d always see him from the car, wonder if he ever wanted a ride. Well, until I beat him up.
At school Jeremy and I were both in the seventh and eighth grade combo class. He thought learning with older students made him superior or stronger to those around him. In class I never saw him pick on anyone, but afterwards at lunch time he’d find the elementary students and steal money whatever their parents had given them for lunch or snacks. First, he would offer them an extra sucker for twenty-five cents, one he had supposedly won from being the star-student jar in Mrs. Krings class that day. “Okay!,” they’d agree and then he’d lead them to the lower half of campus where he had left it in his backpack hanging on the hook outside Mrs. Krings classroom. They would never made it there. On the way he’d lead them down a hall and then shove them into the bathroom, afterwards locking the door. He had these bony elbows perfect for jabbing and that’s what he did. He’d tackle them to the ground, their face and belly on the wet floor, and then he would dig his elbows into their back until they’d give up their money. He could have just tackled them and taken the money, no need for hurting them.
One day my little brother screamed when Jeremy jumped from behind him. I didn’t think much of it, but the next time I saw Walker I told him not to let that dick mess with him. Told him to throw a kick if he has to, even if the supervisor, Helen, was watching. “Anyone will take an elementary schooler’s side over a middle schooler, even if they start the fight.” But, it was then I found out Jeremy had already taken Walker’s money before and would even trip, hit, pinch, or flick him when the two crossed paths around school.
At home Walker mentioned those days events to Mommy and Dad, saying “big brother taught me how to defend myself against a dick.” Momma choked. Dad laughed. The follow up questions got serious and my dad’s smile ran away once Walker told him what Jeremy had done. He lifted his shirt and displayed the countless yellow-ringed purple bruises dotting his torso and upper arms.
“Oh my God,” Mommy exclaimed, leaving her seat to examine her boy. “What the…,” she looked at Dad, “Jack.”
“I’ll call the school first thing in the morning.”
“Does it hurt, sweetie?”
He put his shirt back down. “Kinda.”
“Honey, keep your shirt up.” Turning to me she said, “Pete, grab the tylenol and a bag of ice.” I finally stopped staring at Walker’s body and did what she said.
That night Walker slept in my parents bed under Mommy’s arm. I was awake running through the next day in my mind.
The next day, first thing in the morning, I found Jeremy at the tables outside the gymnasium and I decked him straight against his pointy nose. “What the hell?” He yelled, muffled as he covered his nose with his hands.
“Fuck you, dick face!” I punched him in the eye, the temple, kicked him in the stomach, and then punched him in the nose again. His friend watched as I mounted him on the ground and pommeled him with my fist, one after another. A heat and a kind of nervousness rushed through my body. Soon it was just me, my swinging fist, and his pulping face, and it was not until Helen grabbed me that I realized the cheers around me, some of them from elementary kids, one of them my brother.
I was suspended obviously and, after investigating my claims, Jeremy was as well.
Later that week I heard Jeremy’s father come to my door. I didn’t answer it. My father did and the two grown-ups were at it for quite a while. I had to wrap my pillow around my head. It was so annoying to hear them yell on and on.
“Fuck you!”
“Yeah, well fuck you. Get off my property before I get the police out here!”
I returned to school the same day Jeremy did and on the first day back a crowd gathered near the basketball courts during lunch time. I hurried over, my heart racing. I had bet somebody else decided to kick Jeremy’s ass too.
Once I had pushed through the crowd I saw my brother laying underneath Jeremy while Jeremy smacked his head in with a cast. I charged. As soon as I tackled Jeremy, Helen was there with a few other supervisors. They pulled me off Jeremy before I could beat his eye shut again. They started dragging us away, but my brother remained there on the floor, not moving. I fought as hard as I could, throwing my arms and legs around like running firehoses; it was useless.
Of course, Jeremy and I ended up in the office with the Principal and a counselor lecturing us until we said sorry. I barely heard what they said; I could only think of my brother. Whenever I asked about him, they said, “not right now.” So eventually I apologized, though without him in the eyes. I was not suspended (it was defense,they said) and Jeremy was, this time for ten days.
I remember the very next day, Walker lying down in his room, Mom saying he is going to be okay, me apologizing to Walker for advising him to fight back. He had a concussion, a broken eye socket, fractured nose and jaw, and was missing a tooth. I cried. I clenched my fist. I punched my pillow. Mom and Dad said they’re going to sew Jeremy’s dad. “Good,” I thought.
It had been twelve days since Jeremy beat in Walker’s face. Walker was back at school and looked like he was wearing a mummy mask. He could barely open his mouth when he ate cause of the scabs on his cheeks and the breaks in his jaw. I had to feed him a smoothie with extra calcium in it. Mom said it would help him grow stronger even though it tastes chalky and bitter. I just couldn’t stop seeing that awful gap in his front teeth.
When I had just finished helping Walker, my friend told me the news. Jeremy was transferring to another school. I didn’t understand. All I remember though is two days before then when Jeremy had come back from his second suspension I threatened him. Told him my parents were going to sew him and his dad. He just said, “Shut up,” and walked away. Then there was this story about how Jeremy actually got scared we would sew him so he googled about later that night at home and his dad caught him. I remember Jeremy ended up in the Emergency Room that night. It was a rumor, but then one day I remembered something about when I told him we were going to sew him. He had two casts. And when he beat Walker he had his first cast. I don’t remember ever breaking his arm the first or second time. Maybe I just stepped on his arm and didn’t notice or when I tackled him he landed on it wrong. I don’t know. I haven’t even seen Jeremy in four years. He ended up moving away and of course the rumor now is he is a foster kid. It’s so stupid. Maybe I should just forget it.
