Blackbird

Tate |Chapter 6

I WOULD NEVER TIRE OF THE OCEAN. A dwindling sun hung above grass-covered bluffs. It reminded me of bygone summers, blazing sunsets, and dried sea-salt hair, running against the wildness of the waves until the skies became starlit.

The sun-baked streets that ran adjacent to the beach were deserted. People sheltered from the heat on one of the hottest days of the year. I draped my suit jacket over my arm.

I'd rehearsed a speech to Alex. There were apologies to make from my side alone, and I wanted him to understand where mine originated. A car screeched up at the side of the road. When I turned, Derek grinned, and I heard it coming before he parted his lips.

"You're dead to me, Tate Parker." And I knew it was the most truth that Derek had ever spoken in his life.

His eyes bulged, jaw tight as he got out of the car. Deep-seated hatred sprung from every ragged breath as he approached. He was on the precipice of war and was one lousy vending machine experience away from a bystander catastrophe. Tyson and Snaggletooth slipped out of the same vehicle and blocked my exit.

"Who are you waiting on? Not Alex, or your mom, I hope..."

It was just words. No harm, no foul. "I'm not going to fight you, Derek. I promised Alex."

"He doesn't care what you do. Said as much."

The words stung like a bee in summer. Had Alex agreed to come so he could tell me what a colossal mistake we had made? Had I pushed him too far when I left him alone at the side of the road?

"If you see your mom, tell her she still owes me ten dollars. I wasn't that into it, but fuck was she eager." He smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile, and I understood what he was trying to do.

But if I had one button that would invoke a red haze to cloud my vision, they were repeatedly hitting it.

"Snaggletooth said he had her first, so I don't know who the sloppy second jokes more on. But before you answer, remember he earned his nickname after that punchline."

Derek laughed, then deadpanned. "That would be funny if she weren't dead."

Some hazes make you feel like you are standing by, looking over your shoulder. Despite hearing the echo of a promise to Alex, there was someone I cared about more, and I hadn't seen her in such a long time. My vision finally clouded.

I charged. The force sent him staggering backward, and I threw down the first of three raining blows. The first punch caught his nose and sent a droplet of blood to the concrete. He tried to retreat, but I was unrelenting. Tyson's hands clasped my shoulders from behind, and I shrugged them off and continued to inflict the most damage I could.

My second blow connected with his left cheekbone, sending Derek collapsing onto the pavement below. My knuckles stung as they connected a third and final time with his nose until a sickening crunch forced them to stop.

Derek coughed, spitting up blood. His eyes rolled, dazed, to the back of his head. The broader reach of his arm barely made contact with my eye. He then lay there motionless, his face contorted in pain.

I retreated as my jaw fell wide.

Everyone went silent. I stepped back and shakily onto my feet. My fists were still clenched as I replayed the altercation in my mind. The adrenaline still coursed through my veins, making me hyper-aware. Two words Alex once said came back to haunt me—not sustainable.

Anger had become an impediment. I had been the one that had taken the final escalation, and now Alex's cousin lay crumpled at my feet. The whistle that sounded whenever he breathed suggested I'd at least crushed his nose.