A Better Lie Short Story #3: Drat'sya
“I got in a fight, Dad.”
The words fell from 12-year-old Brandon Petrov’s mouth. His left cheek still throbbed to the beat of his heart. His eye felt watery and his upper lip felt bigger than it was supposed to be. But at least the bleeding inside his mouth had stopped during his eight block walk home from Jason Lee Middle School.
“Did you win?”
Of course I won, Dad. That’s what Brandon wanted to shout. Kevin Velez is the biggest kid in eighth grade and I’m a seventh grader but yeah, I kicked his ass.
Instead he said nothing. He couldn’t lie to his dad. Why’d it have to be a Monday? Any other day his dad’s antique shop would be open and he’d be home alone. He couldn’t tell his father that he lost a fight. So he stared at the floor.
“Stay away from these kids whoever they are,” his father said.
“I can’t,” Brandon said.
“If you cannot avoid them, you will need to get better at fighting.”
His father walked him into the kitchen where he retrieved a frozen bag of peas and handed it to him.
“For your face.”
Brandon took the bag. The cold felt good on his cheek. His father sat at the kitchen table and stared at Brandon, seemingly taking in every injury his son had endured.
“Tell me about this fight.”
Brandon felt like crying just then. He’d rather fight Kevin again than tell his father of his failure. But he could not refuse.
“Ray and I were playing chess. And he beat me three games in a row.”
“Skinny Ray?” Brandon’s dad said, incredulous. “Ray did this to you? I thought you were friends.”
Brandon laughed and cringed a little inside. Brandon stood a head taller than Ray. Did his father really think it was possible that Ray could kick Brandon’s ass?
“We’re almost brothers,” Brandon said. “Ray would never hurt me. Heck, he couldn’t.”
“So who did this to you?”
Brandon continued his story.
After Ray’s domination on the chess board, Brandon resisted the urge to flip the board and yell. Instead, he got up to leave. The door to the classroom was mostly shut. So just to get rid of some of his frustrated energy Brandon kicked the door open...right into the big face of Kevin Velez. It stunned the boy, but only for a moment.
The punch Kevin Velez threw in retaliation at Brandon’s face seemed to occur both in slow motion and at blinding speed. It took a moment for Brandon to regain his bearings. He had managed to stay on his feet. For a few fleeting seconds, before he had registered the pain of the impact of Kevin’s fist, Brandon had a brief optimistic thought. It didn’t hurt so bad and just maybe he could kick Kevin’s ass. Those thoughts barely had the chance to form before the pain in his face mushroomed. He remained standing, but it wasn’t easy.
Hoping to stave off another shot, Brandon threw a punch in the direction of Kevin, hitting him in the side to seemingly no effect. The fight lasted only a few more seconds as Brandon endured a series of punches. At one point he thought to run away. He pivoted on his foot, but Kevin kicked him causing Brandon to lose his balance and fall on the ground. He did not get up right away. Kevin had laughed and walked away.
During his retelling of this fight, Brandon did not look at his father. He didn’t even look up from the floor. Bad enough he lost a fight, but now his shame lay exposed. When he had finished telling the story, his father was silent long enough for Brandon to look at him.
“Is this your first run in with this kid?”
“No.”
“Do you expect this to happen again?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Would you like me to help you?”
“Help me what?”
“Help you stop losing fights.”
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