CHAPTER 14
The Fight

By the time Alex arrived at school the word was out. Billy had challenged him to a fight behind the trees in the corner of the school at lunchtime. The whole of Year 8 knew about it, and everybody was going to watch. I’m a celebrity, thought Alex glumly.

Peter Callaghan was running a bet on how many seconds Alex would last from the time the first punch was thrown till the time he lay motionless on the ground. You could bet he’d last for over or under ten seconds. Adrian Dorry said Billy Johnstone put $10 on under 10 seconds. Jimmy showed his support and bet on over 10 seconds — all of 50 cents. But only because that was all the money he had on him, he told Alex.

“The son of the great Chief Jackson? You’ll kick his butt, mate,” Jimmy assured Alex, his tone of voice betraying the fact that he didn’t give him a hope in hell. “Unless you want to save embarrassing him and have me anonymously tip off the fight to the teacher on lunch duty ...?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, mate. Remember whose mouth it was that got me into this mess.”

“And now my mouth can get you out of it, anonymously of course.”

“Nah. I gotta face this bully boy sometime. It might as well be today. I just wanna get it over with.”

During Religion in period 2, Mr Scott told them how the Romans persecuted the early Christians by throwing them to the lions. Alex knew how they felt.

During Technology Studies in period 4 Billy stopped by Alex’s desk on his way to the bin. He put his arm around Alex’s shoulder and leant in close, his mouth next to Alex’s ear. Anyone who didn’t know better — which was no one, except perhaps Miss Pinzon — would have thought they were mates having a friendly chat.

“Remember our little meeting, grommet,” he said in a low voice. “And don’t even think about not showing up ’cause I’ll find you.”

Alex remembered what Chief told his fighters about showing no fear in front of an opponent. He gave Billy his toughest look. “If we’re having a meeting,” said Alex coolly, “then who’s gonna take the minutes of me kicking your arse?”

Billy squeezed Alex’s shoulder — or more accurately, the place where the neck turns into the shoulder and the muscles and nerves are at their most sensitive — like he was trying to extract the last dollop out of a tube of toothpaste. Though Alex could feel the pain all the way down to his tingling fingers, he didn’t flinch.

“A regular little tough guy,” Billy said. “I’m looking forward to kicking your arse.”

The bell rang and by the time Jimmy and Alex put their books in their bags, most of the Year 8s were already heading down in anticipation of the fight. They all wanted to get the best vantage points, as there wasn’t much room between the trees and the fence that signalled the perimeter of the school, and they also wanted the fight to start quickly before the teachers on lunch duty noticed anything suspicious going on.

Alex began the long walk down to the corner of the school. He and Jimmy made their way through the covered area and were passing the library when someone stepped out in front of them. It was Becky.

“Hey Alex.”

Alex realised she had never said his name before. Normally he would have been ecstatic, but he didn’t feel that good about life at the moment.

“I want to show you something.” She gestured inside the library.

He looked doubtful. “I’m kinda busy at the moment. I gotta mountain waiting to kill me.”

“Aahh, this’ll only take a minute. Besides, your eyes might be too swollen to see after.”

Another true believer.

Alex looked at Jimmy and shrugged. “Let ’em know the entertainment isn’t far away.”

They walked into the library and Alex followed Becky over to one of the long tables near the audiovisual rooms. Spread out on the table was a poster. In big writing across the top it said:

St Joseph’s College Skateboarding
Exhibition
Be There or be a Square

Underneath the writing there was a magnificent drawing of a skateboarder pulling a grind down the 13 steps that were out the front of the library. It was incredible in its accuracy and detail: the black stains on the concrete steps, rust forming on the metal rails, the blue and white school crest hanging on by its last thread on the outside wall of the library. It must have taken Becky hours to draw. Alex was stunned. Not only because this was the best skateboarding drawing he had ever seen, but because the boarder in the picture was him.

Becky gave a shy grin. “I mixed the school magazine, a skateboarding poster and an old photo of you I got off Sarah Sceney and ... Voilà!”

“I didn’t know you could draw,” Alex said, still shocked.

“You don’t know lots of things about me. No one here does. It’s my fault, though ...”

Tell her, thought Alex. Tell her about Juliette and what an idiot you’ve been.

“Becky,” Alex said, “I gotta tell you something.”

Tell her!

She waited expectantly.

“I gotta tell you that ... I have a crush on you bigger than Uluru. Will you go out with me?”

What are you doing? I said tell her, not ask her!

She looked him in the eye. “I will go out with you, Alex Jackson.”

Alex didn’t know what to say next, so he did the manly thing and bolted. “I gotta go beat up a mountain,” he said. “I’ll talk to ya later.”

“Alex, WAIT!” she called out. He was already halfway across the library. “Don’t fight Billy. You don’t need to. You’re better than that.”

“You don’t know me very well, Becky.” He put on a smile and tried to make it sound like a joke, but it came out too hard, like he meant it.

By the time Alex arrived everyone was getting impatient. Peter Callaghan and Adrian Dorry were having a muck–around wrestling match, some boys from 8 Yellow were trying to dack each other, and a few of the girls were pulling off some impressive handstands and cartwheels. Billy Johnstone was leaning on the perimeter fence with his left arm hanging loosely around Claire Carney’s waist.

“The grommet’s finally shown up,” he said loudly, stepping away from the fence.

Immediately all the action around them ceased. A semicircle, some ten rows deep, surrounded them.

There must be a hundred of ’em here.

There was an awkward moment as they faced each other. How are these prearranged fights supposed to start? Billy thought he’d get the ball rolling with a few insults.

“Alex Jackson. Skateboarder, grommet, retard.” The onlookers laughed. “You think you’re tough, don’t you grommet? Let’s see how tough you are now.”

Alex took up his boxing pose. Hands high, elbows in. He’d heard Chief yell that phrase thousands of times, reminding his fighters to protect their head and stomach at the same time. He wondered if Chief had ever fought 20 kilograms out of his weight division.

Billy walked in casually and took the first swing. It was a half–hearted effort, its purpose only being to get the fight started. Alex took Chief’s advice and ducked under it easily, then quickly skipped in close and landed a combination, boom, boom, boom, right into the middle of Billy’s perfect, smooth–skinned face. Before Billy could think to grab hold of him Alex skipped away.

There was an excited murmur from the spectators. Billy’s nose was bleeding! Or was it his lip? Was it both? Billy himself was shocked, but only for a few seconds. He’d underestimated the kid, but he wouldn’t make the same mistake again. He moved in, slower and more warily this time.

“YEAR 8s!” cried the biggest voice Alex had ever heard in his life.

“It’s Letch!” yelled Adrian Dorry. “Run!”

Afraid of being summoned as witnesses and forced to spill their guts, the Year 8s scattered like ants before rain. Letch, however, didn’t bother stopping anyone and asking for information. He seemed to know exactly who he was looking for.

“JOHNSTONE AND JACKSON, UP TO MY OFFICE IMMEDIATELY!”