MY NEW NEIGHBOR

Chapter 9

         "Come on boys," Tasha said, clapping at us. "No TV and video games all day. "It's beautiful outside so get your asses up and get outta my house."
         
          I rolled my eyes and Graham laughed, shrugging in surrender. The truth was evident. Our parents had hit it off pretty hard since we had become friends and they wanted the kids outta the house so they could uncork a bottle of wine and gossip, most likely about us.
         
          "What do you think?" Graham asked as Tasha began pushing against us, herding us towards the front door, both of us leaning against her to make the job as hard as possible.

          I thought briefly of ice cream or pizza at the arcade where we could stay indoors even after being forced outside but I couldn't count how many hours I had spent watching Graham squinting at one of my manga or hunched over the sketchbook I got him, trying to draw his hand. He spent most of our time together trying to learn to like the things I did but never pressed me to do the same and it was time for a change.

          "Maybe.... We could try that skatepark you were wanting to go to." I said and felt my belly tighten at the way he smiled, goofy and lopsided.

          There was a feeling of apprehension as I saw the other boys going down ramps and shooting over ten feet in the air, spinning around and around while their skateboards flipped and twisted. It was quite terrifying, but for Graham I was here and willing to try. So I grabbed up the board and headed to what I think was called half a pipe?

          "Oh, no no no, hell no," Graham said from behind, taking me by the elbow and leading me clear across the park to the area where young boys were first learning to skate, each one covered head to toes in padding. At least I didn't have to do that... Or so I thought.

          "I have to wear all of this?" I whined childishly as he tightened my kneepads. "I thought you were some kinda bad boy or something. Like aren't you supposed to ride a motorcycle without a helmet and roll cigarettes up in your sleeve or something?

          He gave me a look, raising his eyebrow. "You're wearing them. All of them."

          I huffed, listening as he explained the basics, and if I'm honest it seemed pretty simple. Before long, I was eager to get on, almost vibrating with anticipation and then I was on the ground, looking up at the sky with Graham looking down at me.

           "Try again," he said extending a hand, cool against mine, his grip strong.

          This time he put a foot in front of the wheels so my board wouldn't roll and helped me on, his hands on my hips in a way that made my face flush. I felt as if every eye in the park was on us and quite a few were, though not as many as I thought, mostly girls that had been watching Graham since we got here, waiting for a chance to approach him, and the jealous boys that were there with them.

           It was actually much more fun than I had originally thought it would be but the best part was the way Graham would clap my hand or ruffle my hair when I started to get something. Though I'm usually not the type, I took a strangely perverse pleasure in the jealous looks shot my way every time he would laugh. He was good and I clapped happily as he took to the ramps and slid down the rails, so caught up in watching him from afar that I didn't notice the three boys approach until I was shoved to the ground.

          Apparently Graham knew something I didn't with the whole helmet thing because my head bounced off the concrete hard enough to make the world flicker and my teeth sliced a long jagged cut through my tongue, mouth filling with the hot taste of metal. Then I was on my feet again, yanked up by a boy older and larger than myself, his two friends crowded close, one saying something I couldn't quite make out through the ringing in my ears and the other laughing behind him.

          I had dealt with bullies enough to know when a punch was coming even if I didn't know what it was about and I lowered my head, taking it on the crown of the helmet with a loud think, my assaulter crying out in pain, cradling his injured hand like a baby bird. They never expect you to fight back and I took advantage of the surprise leaning in to the guy holding me, raising both legs into the air and planting my feet into the laughers chest, knocking him to the ground while simultaneously turning the helmet from defense to offense and snapping it back into the third guys face.

          Everything was going well until the headbutt caused the guy to drop me and with my legs still in the air, I fell quite a ways before landing awkwardly on my side, left arm producing a harsh snap in the process as it broke halfway between the wrist and elbow. I wasn't wearing a pad for that.
            The first attempt at rolling to my feet earned me a kick in the ribs, knocking me onto my back and his heel came down hard on my broken arm, a feral scream tearing from my lungs. Even with my high tolerance for pain it was more than I could handle. I had never felt anything like it, the bones grinding together was as horrid psychologically as it was physically.

            It was a feeble attempt at fighting after that as he mounted me, knees on both sides of my chest, his fist rising high, falling and striking me across the cheek, once, twice, three times, before he was yanked away. Graham was there but it wasn't my Graham. Gone was the lopsided smile and easy laughter, replaced with a fury unlike any I had ever seen.

          He struck the boy who had punched me in the throat, spinning around to the one I had kicked, only just gaining his feet, and delivered a kick of his own, putting him back on the ground. It was a free for all with the fat one grabbing him from behind, lifting him into the air, and slamming him down, falling on top of him in the process and pinning him for the guy twice kicked in the chest to crawl over and begin punching him.

          Somehow I managed to get up, the need to protect Graham moving me forward, and I jumped onto the fat boy's back, wrapping my good arm around his neck and sinking my teeth into his cheek, grinding down till I heard him howl, his hands fumbling to gain a hold on me. It was pretty much over after that, my little group of bullies losing any interest they had left in fighting.

          No matter how hard I tried I can't really remember the walk home, perhaps it was shock, but what I could was the way Graham lifted me onto his back, the feel of him against me, and the smell of his hair, boy and sunshine. I didn't see him for a few days after my mom took me to the hospital where I had to get eleven stitches in my tongue and cheek along with a cast on my arm. I opted for camo because I thought Graham might like that and that I didn't have enough friends to sign a white one.