have made one more but Middleton snatched the weight away from me.
Drager clapped real slow as I stood, and then he stripped his shirt off. "My turn," he said, settling onto the bench. Again Middleton spotted him. Now the entire team was crowded around.
He was older than I was, and he was strong, but he hadn't been in the weight room once that winter. I expected he might match me or even beat me by a couple of reps, but he pumped one hundred eighty pounds the way I pumped one hundred twenty. He did five reps in about five seconds. He flew right through ten. He slowed a little at fifteen, but when he stopped at twenty, everyone knew he had more in him.
Middleton took the barbell from Drager, who stood and then wheeled on me, pointing his finger. "Still think you'd beat me out?" he said, coming toward me so that we stood nose to nose. "What's the matter, you little puke? Got nothing to say?"
I should have gone for his gut. If I'd hit him in the gut, he'd have lurched forward and I could have followed with a fist to his face and then maybe I'd have had him. But I went for his head because I wanted to hit him so hard he'd go down and stay down. He might have, too, had I connected.
But he ducked out of the way and my punch barely grazed his ear. A second later Clark grabbed me from behind, pinning my arms against my sides. Then Drager drove his fists into my stomach. The punches came fast and hard, like pistons. After what was probably ten seconds but felt like ten minutes, Clark released me. I slid to my knees, both arms covering my gut. Clark kicked me, and when I rolled to my side, Drager spit in my face. "See you around, Muscle Boy," he said, and the two of them walked out.
Once they'd left, DeShawn and Drew bent over me. "You all right?" Drew said, pulling me to my feet. I was almost standing when my knees buckled, but I didn't let myself fall back down. Once I was all the way up, I pushed Drew away. "I'm okay."
"You're not okay," DeShawn said, and he took my elbow.
I shook free. "I'm okay," I choked out. "Just leave me alone."
Somehow I made it into the bathroom, staggered to a stall, stepped in, and slid the steel bar into place, locking it. Then I went down on my knees, this time to throw up. I knew DeShawn and Drew were just outside the door. "Go away," I gasped between retches. "Go away."
They left, their footsteps echoing on the tile floor.
I could have stayed in that toilet stall for an hour, but they were waiting for meâDeShawn and Drew and the rest of them. I forced myself to stand; I forced myself out of the stall; I forced myself to wash up even though my ribs ached each time I raised my hands to my face.
When I returned to the weight room, the other guys stopped what they were doing and looked over, but nobody spoke. I walked to the corner where the dumbbells were, picked up the twelve-pounders, and made myself do some curls. That burned. Every couple of minutes I'd catch somebody looking over at me. Each time the guy would quickly look away. They were my teammates, and they'd stood there and let Drager and Clark beat me. Two against one, and no one had done a thing. After a while, the first guy left. Then another guy, and two more, and then I zipped up my duffel and headed for the door.
I wanted to get into my Jeep and drive off, but Drew hustled to catch up. "I'm sorry, Mick," he said. "I know I should have done something, but it happened so fast. I thought it was going to be a fair fightâyou against Drager. What Clark did was gutless. But I didn't see it coming. Nobody did. And when it happened, I froze. And just when I was going to jump in, that's when Clark let you go. It happened too fast."
I looked up at the sky. The wind was pushing black clouds toward us, and that fit, because there was a black cloud over our friendship and words weren't going to make it go away.
"I'm not blaming you, Drew," I finally managed.
"But I'm blaming me."
"Well, don't."
We'd reached the Wrangler. "If
Drager clapped real slow as I stood, and then he stripped his shirt off. "My turn," he said, settling onto the bench. Again Middleton spotted him. Now the entire team was crowded around.
He was older than I was, and he was strong, but he hadn't been in the weight room once that winter. I expected he might match me or even beat me by a couple of reps, but he pumped one hundred eighty pounds the way I pumped one hundred twenty. He did five reps in about five seconds. He flew right through ten. He slowed a little at fifteen, but when he stopped at twenty, everyone knew he had more in him.
Middleton took the barbell from Drager, who stood and then wheeled on me, pointing his finger. "Still think you'd beat me out?" he said, coming toward me so that we stood nose to nose. "What's the matter, you little puke? Got nothing to say?"
I should have gone for his gut. If I'd hit him in the gut, he'd have lurched forward and I could have followed with a fist to his face and then maybe I'd have had him. But I went for his head because I wanted to hit him so hard he'd go down and stay down. He might have, too, had I connected.
But he ducked out of the way and my punch barely grazed his ear. A second later Clark grabbed me from behind, pinning my arms against my sides. Then Drager drove his fists into my stomach. The punches came fast and hard, like pistons. After what was probably ten seconds but felt like ten minutes, Clark released me. I slid to my knees, both arms covering my gut. Clark kicked me, and when I rolled to my side, Drager spit in my face. "See you around, Muscle Boy," he said, and the two of them walked out.
Once they'd left, DeShawn and Drew bent over me. "You all right?" Drew said, pulling me to my feet. I was almost standing when my knees buckled, but I didn't let myself fall back down. Once I was all the way up, I pushed Drew away. "I'm okay."
"You're not okay," DeShawn said, and he took my elbow.
I shook free. "I'm okay," I choked out. "Just leave me alone."
Somehow I made it into the bathroom, staggered to a stall, stepped in, and slid the steel bar into place, locking it. Then I went down on my knees, this time to throw up. I knew DeShawn and Drew were just outside the door. "Go away," I gasped between retches. "Go away."
They left, their footsteps echoing on the tile floor.
I could have stayed in that toilet stall for an hour, but they were waiting for meâDeShawn and Drew and the rest of them. I forced myself to stand; I forced myself out of the stall; I forced myself to wash up even though my ribs ached each time I raised my hands to my face.
When I returned to the weight room, the other guys stopped what they were doing and looked over, but nobody spoke. I walked to the corner where the dumbbells were, picked up the twelve-pounders, and made myself do some curls. That burned. Every couple of minutes I'd catch somebody looking over at me. Each time the guy would quickly look away. They were my teammates, and they'd stood there and let Drager and Clark beat me. Two against one, and no one had done a thing. After a while, the first guy left. Then another guy, and two more, and then I zipped up my duffel and headed for the door.
I wanted to get into my Jeep and drive off, but Drew hustled to catch up. "I'm sorry, Mick," he said. "I know I should have done something, but it happened so fast. I thought it was going to be a fair fightâyou against Drager. What Clark did was gutless. But I didn't see it coming. Nobody did. And when it happened, I froze. And just when I was going to jump in, that's when Clark let you go. It happened too fast."
I looked up at the sky. The wind was pushing black clouds toward us, and that fit, because there was a black cloud over our friendship and words weren't going to make it go away.
"I'm not blaming you, Drew," I finally managed.
"But I'm blaming me."
"Well, don't."
We'd reached the Wrangler. "If
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