Broken (CJ Lyons) by CJ Lyons

Author:CJ Lyons
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2013-11-04T18:30:00+00:00

39

We burst through the doors and find five guys in front of the tiny alley where the equipment shed sits beside the gymnasium wall. At first I’m thinking it’s a strange place for a fight, but then Jordan’s head pops into view over the shoulders of the other boys, and I realize he’s chosen this corner carefully: it puts his back to a wall and the opening is narrow enough the guys can’t gang up on him.

There’s the thud of someone hitting the ground. I cringe. Nessa cheers, so the someone couldn’t have been Jordan. She pushes her way through the boys. I follow, my pack thumping over the uneven grass, wheels catching on clods of mud, half dreading what I’ll see.

The boys watching are all wearing football practice uniforms. They jeer at us, but no one actually lays a hand on us. Nice to see they still have some civil manners. Or maybe we’re simply beneath their notice. No threat.

We get to the front and I’m surprised to see Jordan isn’t alone. Tony is with him, wrestling with his own football player, each trying to push the other’s face into the mud. Jordan’s opponent is down but not out. There’s not much maneuvering room in the cramped space, but he manages to grab Jordan’s leg and topple him to the ground.

I’ve been at the center of emergencies, but never before had to respond to one. Nothing in my life has prepared me for this. There’s no sign of blood—not yet—and it seems to be more of a tussle than an actual fight, but as the crowd starts calling out encouragement, well, it’s not hard to see where things are headed. Nessa isn’t helping any, launching herself at Jordan’s opponent when he throws mud in Jordan’s eyes. Two of the other jocks pull her off, screaming.

I’m paralyzed. I have never been this close to violence in my life. My heart is thundering so it feels like a herd of horses stampeding inside my chest. My blood sings with adrenaline along with a hefty portion of fear that makes my stomach queasy and my mind slow to a drunken stumble. I stand there, clutching my pack with Phil inside. So much for carrying life-saving fashion accessories.

The crowd moves, ebbing and flowing with the combatants, pushing me along with them. It’s a frightening feeling; any one of these boys is twice my size. I fight my way to the fringe of the crowd and catch my breath. One of the boys stands alone in the back. He’s not watching the fight. He’s watching me.

Keith Young. Mitch’s buddy.

I lean on my pack’s handle, gasping in a few deep breaths, clearing my head, and slowing my heart. I remember my cell phone and grab it. It’s not as fancy as Nessa’s, no video, but it does have a camera. I start to take pictures of everyone. At first I sneak the shots, palming my phone and aiming it. A few guys notice but do nothing, so I grow bolder.

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