CHAPTER 18
The Fight: Part 2

At school on Monday something was going down. Kids were whispering and looking at Alex and Becky, but no one was talking to them. It was as if they had great big goobers on their faces and no one had the guts to let them know.

It was mega weird but when Alex mentioned it to Becky she didn’t seem to care. She had been in a trance all day, her beautiful eyes even sadder than usual. Alex asked her what was wrong and she didn’t say anything, just shook her head and looked down at her fingernails.

At first Alex thought that maybe someone had spotted them kissing at the station, but when it got worse during lunch he realised it was more serious.

“What’s going on, Jimmy?” Alex asked. Being in the same class as Adrian Dorry, Jimmy would be sure to know if a juicy piece of gossip was flying around.

Jimmy looked cagey, which wasn’t like him. “Nothing, mate,” he said.

Alex gave him a look as if to say, You’re not getting out of it that easily.

“Just kids making up stuff, you know how it is,” Jimmy said finally.

“What sort of stuff are they making up?”

“Nothin’ ... Just stuff.”

“Jimmy! This is me! Alex!”

“You’re not gonna like it.”

“What is it?”

At that moment identical twins Kirsten and Kerra Medhurst tentatively approached Becky, who was only a few metres away from Alex and Jimmy talking to Sarah Sceney. Kirsten and Kerra spoke like they were connected to the same brain, finishing each other’s thoughts in identical, singsong voices which rose in pitch at the end of each sentence making everything they said sound like a question.

“We, like, just want to know if it’s true?” said Kirsten.

“We don’t believe it. We think it’s, like, really mean what they’re saying about you?” said Kerra.

“What are you talking about?” asked Becky.

“We heard that, like, your dad’s in jail?” said Kirsten.

“And that he, like, stole a million dollars?” added Kerra.

“And that he’s, like, a drug dealer?”

“And he, like, killed a man?”

“It’s not true, is it?” asked Kirsten.

“Is it?” said Kerra.

But Becky didn’t deny it. She just stood there, silent.

Alex hurried over. “It’s a load of bull crap!” he said loudly, making sure everyone in the vicinity heard. It was time to squash this story before it got out of hand. “Becky’s dad isn’t in jail. That’s the most unbelievable thing I’ve ever heard!”

But when Becky started crying it no longer seemed so unbelievable.

“Who told you?” Alex asked the two girls, his voice becoming hard.

How could anyone have found out? It certainly hadn’t come from him. He hadn’t told anyone, even Jimmy.

The twins didn’t answer. They were starting to fidget, uncomfortable in the presence of this crazy boy almost yelling at them.

“Who told you that about Becky?” Now he was yelling.

The twins looked at each other and ran away.

Alex walked over to Jimmy. “Who started these rumours about becky?” he demanded.

Jimmy looked doubtful.

“It’s not worth it, mate.”

“WHO STARTED THEM?”

“Don’t do anything stupid ...”

“WHO?”

“Billy Johnstone.” Jimmy sighed. “Adrian Dorry told me that Billy knows a girl who went to Becky’s old school in Brisbane. She told him on the weekend, and he’s been telling everybody since.”

Before Jimmy could stop him Alex took off. Kids who had kept half an eye on proceedings followed him excitedly. It wasn’t hard to figure out where he was heading. Everyone knew Billy and his group would be down behind the trees in the corner of the school.

When Alex arrived he had trouble spotting Billy through the smoke. But when he saw him leaning on the fence, his arm around Claire Carney (she must not have got around to dumping him yet), Alex didn’t hesitate.

“You’re a bastard,” he said, planting himself close enough to Billy to seriously invade his personal space.

Billy automatically puffed up his shoulders and chest. He’s bigger than half the guys at Chief’s gym.

“No, I’m not,” he said. “I got a dad, and he ain’t in jail.”

Some kids laughed.

That was more than enough of an excuse for Alex. He flew at Billy, too angry to worry about strategy, throwing every combination of punches imaginable. Jab, jab, left, right, left. He had quick hands from the hours he had spent with his dad in the ring as a young kid, and the training was coming back to him instinctively. With the adrenalin pumping inside of him he felt invincible.

He must have landed a good left–right combination because the cut on Billy’s lip, still healing from a few weeks ago, split open. Alex was looking at the blood oozing out of it, and it made him feel good. It felt good to hurt Billy, the boy who hurt Becky. It felt good to be teaching Billy a lesson in front of all these people. He was teaching everyone a lesson. Treat Alex Jackson or his friends like crap and you’ll pay the price.

Suddenly, before he had time to move, Billy reached out and grabbed him. Billy’s hands enveloped Alex’s biceps and lifted him clean up off the ground, as if he was made of helium. Alex’s legs flailed and kicked at air, powerless to stop Billy. He knew he was stuffed.

For an instant he met Billy’s eyes, mere centimetres from his face, and realised he’d taught this brute nothing.

Billy chucked him at the fence. Maybe it was the fact that Alex’s head had taken one too many whacks getting slammed skateboarding, or maybe it was simply that the post his head hit at a rate of knots was made of steel. But his head rebelled. Big time.

Alex floated outside of himself, as if he was suddenly a detached observer. He could actually see his own body lying on the ground, his split head beginning to drip blood, turning his blond hair red. I’ll look like Jimmy.

He felt his uncontrollable anger of a few moments ago gently slip away, and things started becoming peaceful. He remembered that he used to think life was simple and wondered how a thirteen–year–old skate–grom had got himself into such a mess. And then he didn’t remember any more ...