Mario pulls Gigi tighter to the side of his body. It’s obvious that she’s not at all comfortable with his actions, but she’s going along with it because I annoy her way more than he ever could.
“First, my name is Knox, so don’t call me that K-boogie shit again. Second, we aren’t cool and we haven’t been since you snitched on me to Mrs. McHenry in the third grade. And finally, I’m going to need you to get your hands off of Gigi. She’s not the type of girl you’re used to.”
Gigi’s mouth tightens into a thin line. She’s getting totally pissed with me, and I get why, but I’m only looking out for her as I’ve been instructed to do ever since I could walk.
“And what type of girl is that?” she asks angrily.
Of course, she is taking what I said the wrong way. I didn’t mean it as some sort of slight against her, at least not this time.
Mario stands up and puffs out his chest as if he’s going to try something with me. He is quite aware of my reputation and knows that I’m the best fighter in school, but he’s obviously putting on a show for Gigi.
“Yeah, KAY-BOOGIE, what kind of girl would that be? The way I heard it Gigi is just my type.”
Mario attempts to inconspicuously hold his balls as he emphasizes the word type. It’s crystal clear what his meaning is even if it goes completely over Gigi’s naïve head. It’s purposefully disrespectful, and I immediately see red, so I react without thinking and punch him square in the jaw.
It feels so good when my knuckles crash against the soft flesh of Mario’s constantly running mouth, but it doesn’t take long for me to discover that he fights dirty, like the punk that I believed him to be. There’s nothing fair about it. He tries kicking, spitting, and biting me. In fact, I think he damn near bit a piece of my ear lobe off. I’m going to have to give it to the douche. I didn’t think he had it in him to fight like this.
Our brawl doesn’t last long, but for the short time that it does, it's bloody and brutal, and I don’t know what comes over me but I want to annihilate him. I am in what my twin brothers call the red zone. It’s like everything disappears around me and there’s just me and Mario and a haze of red, blurry light. I’m pounding his face into the grass with my fist when the only thing that brings me out of it are the shrieking cries of fear piercing my ears. Gigi is yelling at the top of her lungs.
“Get off him! Get off him!”
I’m saving her from becoming the laughingstock of the school and all she’s worried about is this loser?
Typical.
I finally stop and stare at him with hostility as he pulls away his hand from the three-inch gash I’ve made over his eye and notices blood. At this point, there’s a small crowd of bystanders standing around us murmuring among themselves, but I ignore them while Mario puts on a show for them instead.
“My parents were right about you. You and your family are trash. I’m going to sue, you crazy fucker, and get you kicked out of school!”
I cock my head to the side after his outburst. Mario and I have known each other a long time, and he’s definitely heard the rumors (truth) about my father and Gigi’s father, for that matter. Our families have money like his, but we are not to be fucked with. He knows this, but again I realize that he’s just puffing hot air for Gigi’s benefit.
“You sure about that?” I say in a menacing tone. “You want to involve my parents in this?”
The blood continues to drip down Mario’s face into his eye as he contemplates what I’m saying. I can tell that he’s considering the situation he finds himself in. Will he save face in front of Gigi, or will he walk away?
“No bitch is worth this,” he blusters, and then walks past the crowd to his parked car to leave.
The small crowd disperses and now there is only Gigi and I left.
She’s crying.
“He’s not worth crying over,” I tell her.
“I’m crying because I’m mad, not because I’m sad!” she yells at me.
“What?” I ask, taken aback. “You’re mad at me?”
“You ruined his face!”
Never mind the scratches on mine and the chunk of ear, he bit. Not to mention that Gigi and I have known each other our entire fucking lives. Where’s the loyalty?
“He was using you, Gigi,” I tell her matter-of-factly.
She plops down on the grass, and her dress rises a bit, showing her knees. I notice the faint scar on her left one. I put it there when we were ten-years-old and playing tag. I chased her so fast that she fell on some pavers around the pool and cried bloody murder. That was the day my father reiterated that it was my job to protect Gigi, not hurt her, because she was like family.
“He was the first boy brave enough to ask me out for a date.”
“What do you mean, brave enough?” I scoff.
