Penguins of Madagascar: Moving Situations

Chapter Ten

Kowalski
I half focus on my food, half turn over this new information over in my mind. It is the day after I figured out who he was and it is still taking some getting used to. Bullying was hardly a rarity at school for me, especially once I was properly pushed up year groups. All it took was one person to do it and it would quickly become a huge group. People at school, I decided, were like piranhas. All it took was once inciting incident, a metaphoric drop of blood, and everything would turn into a bloodbath or discord. To be fair the vast majority didn't bully me but they didn't do anything either. So moving schools a lot didn't matter too much because I never made friends anyway and being multilingual was a huge advantage. I'm pretty sure my parents wanted the transfers to go badly so I couldn't embarrass them anymore with 'being an academic show off' but I can't know for sure. The vast majority were generic bullies but Emmett was different.

We were roommates at my second to last school which meant being around my bully constantly or sleeping outside trying to avoid being noticed by teachers. Unless there was extreme weather I opted for the outside option after a few weeks because that was better than bruises and several threats of slitting my throat whilst I slept. Insanity to the next level especially as a couple of times I woke up to the feel of a blade against my throat. Sure, he claimed it was a 'joke' but the expression he had...it convinced him the latter. I tried to report it a few times but his parent's money made any complaint not lead to anything. Things got worse and after he actually ended up using the knife, slicing my arm because I wouldn't do his homework for him, I thought I would find out if his parents were reasonable instead of how teachers reacted. Turns out I wasn't the only person he had been psychotic too and what upon further examination he was sent to a mental hospital.

I don't know how he escaped but knowing him it was hardly a good method but all that matters is this makes Blowhole even more dangerous. He at least has a place he stops with violence, finding it distasteful to rely on violence rather than his intelligence. Emmett has no such qualms.
"You okay?" Skipper asks me, breaking me out of my thoughts.
"Yep," I lie. From his expression he can tell that isn't true. "I don't know...I've been worse. I have also been better though."
"How bad was he to you?" Skipper asks.
"Honestly Skipper, I don't think I should tell you," I reply, pushing my hair from my eyes where it always insists on falling. "You already seem to be on the war path."
"No I'm not!" he says, indignantly. I just raise my eyebrow slightly and give him an unimpressed look. "Okay, maybe just a little. If you aren't going to tell me then I'll just assume it is worse than it is."
"Unlikely," I mutter. "If you have to know it was very bad..." I don't go into the specifics because I know that would freak him out and that would end in a fight I am not sure Skipper would win.

"Skipper, don't go breaking in to take him down," I say. I know him well enough to be pretty sure he would at least attempt it. Skipper is loyal, yes, but also incredibly reckless. Which can lead to issues when he mixes the two.
"But Kowalski-"
"But nothing, Skipper," I insist. "If you get caught how disastrous would that be?"
"Fine," he agrees. "But, Kowalski, if we run into him I am not holding back."
"Well that does sound like you," I agree, wryly. "I'd rather you didn't but it is you..."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Skipper asked but he seemed more amused than annoyed.
"Just...you can be a tad reckless," I say with a smile. Brave, yes, but recklessness can be a tad...Never mind.

"Do we have training today?" I ask, putting down the spoon and giving up on the now incredibly soggy muesli. Almost mush.
"Are you feeling up for it?" Skipper asks me.
"As much as I dislike training, yep," I say. "I need to stop being the most helpless one."
"You aren't," Skipper protests.
"Skipper, I am the weakest fighter by a long shot," I say, matter of factly. "Now if they wanted a maths off then I wouldn't be but I am pretty weak." He opens his mouth to protest again- or give a biased lie- but I just shake my head slightly.

We head into the training room, along with Gale.
"Practice fights today," Skipper says. "It has been a while since we have and it'll be a good idea to get some concept of the skill set." Oh great. I hate fights...

                              --------------------------------------------

Gale, it turns out, is a completely even match for Skipper. We have all done 1-2-1s except for me vs. Gale which I am not looking forward to with how good he is.

I try to sidestep from the first punch but get a kick to the side, making me stumble back slightly. I dodge some, but get hit more and it hurts. My ribs ache after a few and I know that I'm covered in bruises. Before long I fall to the ground, grazing my knees and knocking my glasses flying.
"I win," Gale says, cheerfully. No duh. Ow... Skipper passes me my glasses and I quickly put them back on, regaining my vision.
"Kowalski, you okay?" Skipper asks. I wince then nod. He turns to Gale. "Next time go easier on him. Fighting isn't his forte." I suppress a flinch. I know Skipper gets the others to go easier on me but hearing it aloud isn't easy. It clarifies that I'm the weakest and to even have the smallest chance (which is still normally failure) people go easier on me.

I get up, rubbing my wrist slightly because that is starting to pang too, and quickly drain some of my water bottle.
"Well that's enough training for today," Skipper says. "Gale, how are you so good at this?"
"I trained to be a cop but dropped out due to the costs of university," he says with a shrug.

We head downstairs, the others making small talk as I try to go over fighting techniques in my head. Unfortunately it goes out my head right away.
"So how did you all meet? You are all so unalike," Gale comments.

"For Rico and Private it was pretty easy," Skipper replies. "We met in training, got along and eventually they joined. Yes, I started freelance but I occasionally do stuff for other organisations such as the CIA and such. I was at a training month and met them. It took a few missions together and then I asked them to join."
"What about Kowalski?" Gale asks. I and Skipper exchange a look, each one waiting for the other to explain. I certainly don't want to talk extensively to someone who is still pretty much a stranger especially about this. Sure, things are good now but they weren't always. And I don't want to talk about it because I will say things wrong, then Skipper will feel guilty again which will just be disastrous. "Is it something you don't want to talk about?"
"It's not that," Skipper says, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. "Well...it kinda is but if you are in the group now you have every right to know. It is just...Kowalski I need a word for the first few weeks."
"A mess," I say. A simple word for it but a thesaurus isn't needed for every single situation.

We all sit in the living room and I pull one of the loose threads on my jacket, fiddling with it. A hole begins forming in the fabric and I quickly stop, instead playing with the ends of my hair. I need to fiddle with things. I don't know why but it helps when stressed which seems to be nearly always except when inventing. That though does have an element of fiddling... Oh. Maybe I need to find a stress outlet which doesn't put holes in my sleeves. I sigh and stir the spoon around the tea. The silence is awkward and I know Skipper well enough to know he is trying to think of how to word this. How can a simple question cause so much drama? Why does there always have to be drama? I guess that comes from our career really but personal drama? That is just being a bad luck magnet. I always have drama. Being a reclusive introvert that is far from ideal. I prefer to be in the shadows or on the outskirts but it seems that I don't get a say in this.

"Okay...so how Kowalski joined the group," Skipper begins, looking like he would rather be anywhere except this conversation.