Status: For NaNo and for honor.
Spill
Two
Spread throughout the clearing, lie several fire-pits. The younger men make quick work of lighting them and soon the clearing is lit up in an orange glow. The faces of the people around are awash in light and they shine. They glow with sweat and excitement.
The crowd gathers in a loose, sloppy circle around Emmanuel, the leader of this pack, and a pair of young men who've already shed their shirts. Emmanuel's wife, Josie, is off to the side with a young girl standing doe-eyed beside her. The expression on Rose's face is caught somewhere between elation and terror, but even from where I stand, I can see the look she's casting the broader boy's way.
This thing the wolves do, the claim, is barbaric and chaotic but they act like it's a necessary part of who they are. They act like it's a ritual of honor, a ceremony, but really it's just a pair of men fighting bare-knuckled in a circle with a crowd viciously cheering them on. There's nothing but spilled blood and temporarily broken bones. The club gets all riled up when the guys lay claims. But the fights between women are usually more entertaining. Women fight ruthlessly and Emmanuel usually let's it go on for much longer than it needs to. But the men fight hard enough and usually they cause a lot more damage to each other.
The boys in the ring tonight are Castor, Rose's brother, and a younger kid I barely recognize from another pack. Castor's only nineteen but the other boy seems even younger. He's shorter too, but where Castor has lean muscle, he's wider with strong arms that could give him an advantage. Not that it matters who wins here. In the end, the fight isn't about who's stronger or even who's a better fighter. The wolves think there's something special about being willing to have your ass kicked that shows love is true.
It's ridiculous, but there's a part of me, the part that's blood-thirsty and longing for violence, that knows it's at least good sport.
As Emmanuel starts shouting out caveats to the boys, the ranks close in, creating a tighter circle around them. Closer now, I can see that there are a few other people here I recognize from the pack that settles a few miles north of here. They stand behind the younger boy, seemingly having good fun but there's that tenseness in their shoulders and arms that always seem to creep in when wolves are in territory they can't claim as their own.
In the clearing, there are few places to sit or perch. Some old thick logs or boulders scattered around. Some nights the older kids come out here to party, to smoke and gorge on stolen bottles of whiskey and vodka. I spot a group of women I know from around the club and use them as an excuse to step away from Easton. Marissa, one of the girls who waitress in the club after-hours, scoots over so there's a small space for me to sit.
"Who's this?" I ask, nodding towards the stranger.
Marissa's hand is wrapped around the long-neck of a bottle of something golden brown and dangerous. She takes a sip, eyebrows knitting together, before she clears her throat and looks at me with blurry eyes. "I think his name's Jason," she tips the mouth of the bottle towards the boy, "from Boom County, maybe?"
"Rose serious about this?" I ask because she's never seemed to be serious about much of anything before.
Marissa shrugs in response. Rose and Castor are only half-siblings to her and in a town as small as this, that's scandal enough to have driven a wedge between them.
Marissa knocks her hand into my knee and I see that she's offering me the bottle of liquor. I think about turning her down but in the end, I accept. Trinidadian rum. It burns all the way down.
"Jesus, Mare. Not supposed to drink this straight."
Before she can answer, the crowd seems to settle down and go quiet. It looks like the festivities are about to begin. From where we sit, our view is blocked, so I stand to make my way to the front of the crowd. I'm surprised when I feel Marissa's arm loop through mine, but I keep moving forward, pulling her along with me.
At the center of it all, Emmanuel stands with each boy standing on either side of him, primed and ready to go at each others' throat. In the time I was distracted with Marissa, they've had their knuckles wrapped and Castor's pulled his hair back into a ponytail that rests at the the base of his neck. Before they can get started, Rose sprints forwards out of Josie's grasp, and practically throws herself at Jason. She falls into him, wrapping her arms around his shoulder and kissing him thoroughly. When they pull back, the two are grinning at each other madly. Emmanuel breaks it up, shooing the girl back towards Josie and then, finally, gives the boys the go ahead.
Jason's courteous enough to let Rose's brother, Castor, land the first blow. He gets him in his side and then twice again in the stomach before Jason really starts fighting back. His fists whiz past Castor's head a few times, clipping him once and drawing a little blood that dribbles down his brow. The crowd roars at the site and scent of first blood. Castor comes back with a quick succession of short, powerful jabs, only one of which makes any real contact with Jason, but it's a punch to the center of his chest and leaves him stumbling back and a little breathless. Before he can catch his breath, Castor is on him again, throwing wild punches at his head first but shifting to his gut once Jason wisens up enough to throw his hands up. The boys from Jason's pack go wild at this. Cheering and hollering for him to keep fighting. From where I stand, I can see one of them leaning forwards and squatting low to get a good look at the damage being done. He's so close, he almost gets clipped by Castor's flying elbow, but one of his friends pulls him back just in time. Just when it seems that Jason might be forced to give up, Rose's sharp voice seems to rise above the noise of the others. She's screaming his name, face burning bright red, and it seems her support is all he needs to get back in the fight.
Castor rears back to throw another punch down his way, but Jason leverages his feet against the other's chest and simultaneous kicks Castor back and rolls into a standing position. Castor's caught off guard by the move, obvious thinking Jason was near his end, but recovers quick enough to dodge what would have been a brutal hit. Still Jason gets the best of him, following his body through the missed punch and coming up behind Castor. He wraps his arms around Castor, wedging his throat in the bend of his elbow and using his other hand to leverage a tight hold. Castor kicks back like a bronco, throwing Jason back but his hold on Castor is tight, sending them both tumbling to the ground. With both hands occupied with keeping Castor in the hold, Jason's open to a flurry of hits Castor lands on his sides. In the light of the bonfires, I can see the sweat-slicked muscle of Jason's stomachs tensing over and over again, trying to withstand the blows.
But after a few more punches, it starts to look like Castor is slowing down, his face turning bright red, then moving towards shades of purple. Emmanuel calls it, yelling for Jason to let him go. He does, releasing Castor's head and pushing him away. Castor pelts towards the floor but catches himself on the heels of his hands.
Jason must be somewhat of a gentlemen, which explains why after he stands, he gives Castor a moment to do the same. But Castor's fighting tactics aren't so honorable and even though he fakes like he's going to stand, he only pushes up into a low crouch before launching himself at Jason again. He catches him about the middle and slams him into the ground. He's quick and scrambles to get on top of Jason, but Jason's surprisingly wily and before Castor can throw another blow, Jason springs his body upward, head-butting him hard enough to break his nose, releasing a spray of blood that coats from Jason's chin down his chest.
Castor falls back and before he can get up again, Jason lands on him and delivers three quick jabs to his face in succession. Before he can get in a fourth, Emmanuel steps in. Telling the club boys to haul Jason back and effectively ending the fight.
He grabs Jason's arm and raises it in the air, as if this were a legit boxing match and Jason just won. The pack makes a sound that's almost deafening and Rose rushes forward again. There's a moment of hesitance, when she reaches her brother, still sprawled out on the floor, hands covering his face, but she eventually walks past him and up to Jason, who presses his bloody face to hers as she presses against him. The crowd turns the volume up even louder. One of Jason's buddies throws him his t-shirt and he uses it to wipe away some of the blood. Rose fusses over some of the tears in his skin and the redder spots that'll quickly turn into bruising, but he gently pushes her away.
Walking steadily and strong, but without the pretense of too much pride, he approaches Castor, who's still on the floor but sitting up with a shirt of his own. The two of them look each other over and then Jason offers out his hand. There's a quiet moment while Castor thinks it over and when he accepts, Jason pulls him into a quick hug before the crowd bursts again.
With it all over, everyone heads back out of the woods, spirits high and louder than ever. I've lost Easton and his girl for now and Marissa practically gets plucked out of my hands by her usual crew, leaving me alone in the slow moving crowd.
As I walk, the energy around me leaves me vibrating. But aside from that, there's an itchy feeling creeping up my spine and prickling at the back of my neck. The feeling you get when you're being watched.
I stop, feeling the brush and push of people who continue to move around me, and take a quick look around. I'm not subtle about it – a lone, still girl in the center of a vibrant crowd – but I still manage to catch him before he looks away. Just a few paces away from me, I spot one of the pack boys, Lucas Rosa, unabashedly starring. I stare back, frowning, but he's not deterred. He continues to look, appraising, the expression on his face changing moving from curious to smug.
The crowd gathers in a loose, sloppy circle around Emmanuel, the leader of this pack, and a pair of young men who've already shed their shirts. Emmanuel's wife, Josie, is off to the side with a young girl standing doe-eyed beside her. The expression on Rose's face is caught somewhere between elation and terror, but even from where I stand, I can see the look she's casting the broader boy's way.
This thing the wolves do, the claim, is barbaric and chaotic but they act like it's a necessary part of who they are. They act like it's a ritual of honor, a ceremony, but really it's just a pair of men fighting bare-knuckled in a circle with a crowd viciously cheering them on. There's nothing but spilled blood and temporarily broken bones. The club gets all riled up when the guys lay claims. But the fights between women are usually more entertaining. Women fight ruthlessly and Emmanuel usually let's it go on for much longer than it needs to. But the men fight hard enough and usually they cause a lot more damage to each other.
The boys in the ring tonight are Castor, Rose's brother, and a younger kid I barely recognize from another pack. Castor's only nineteen but the other boy seems even younger. He's shorter too, but where Castor has lean muscle, he's wider with strong arms that could give him an advantage. Not that it matters who wins here. In the end, the fight isn't about who's stronger or even who's a better fighter. The wolves think there's something special about being willing to have your ass kicked that shows love is true.
It's ridiculous, but there's a part of me, the part that's blood-thirsty and longing for violence, that knows it's at least good sport.
As Emmanuel starts shouting out caveats to the boys, the ranks close in, creating a tighter circle around them. Closer now, I can see that there are a few other people here I recognize from the pack that settles a few miles north of here. They stand behind the younger boy, seemingly having good fun but there's that tenseness in their shoulders and arms that always seem to creep in when wolves are in territory they can't claim as their own.
In the clearing, there are few places to sit or perch. Some old thick logs or boulders scattered around. Some nights the older kids come out here to party, to smoke and gorge on stolen bottles of whiskey and vodka. I spot a group of women I know from around the club and use them as an excuse to step away from Easton. Marissa, one of the girls who waitress in the club after-hours, scoots over so there's a small space for me to sit.
"Who's this?" I ask, nodding towards the stranger.
Marissa's hand is wrapped around the long-neck of a bottle of something golden brown and dangerous. She takes a sip, eyebrows knitting together, before she clears her throat and looks at me with blurry eyes. "I think his name's Jason," she tips the mouth of the bottle towards the boy, "from Boom County, maybe?"
"Rose serious about this?" I ask because she's never seemed to be serious about much of anything before.
Marissa shrugs in response. Rose and Castor are only half-siblings to her and in a town as small as this, that's scandal enough to have driven a wedge between them.
Marissa knocks her hand into my knee and I see that she's offering me the bottle of liquor. I think about turning her down but in the end, I accept. Trinidadian rum. It burns all the way down.
"Jesus, Mare. Not supposed to drink this straight."
Before she can answer, the crowd seems to settle down and go quiet. It looks like the festivities are about to begin. From where we sit, our view is blocked, so I stand to make my way to the front of the crowd. I'm surprised when I feel Marissa's arm loop through mine, but I keep moving forward, pulling her along with me.
At the center of it all, Emmanuel stands with each boy standing on either side of him, primed and ready to go at each others' throat. In the time I was distracted with Marissa, they've had their knuckles wrapped and Castor's pulled his hair back into a ponytail that rests at the the base of his neck. Before they can get started, Rose sprints forwards out of Josie's grasp, and practically throws herself at Jason. She falls into him, wrapping her arms around his shoulder and kissing him thoroughly. When they pull back, the two are grinning at each other madly. Emmanuel breaks it up, shooing the girl back towards Josie and then, finally, gives the boys the go ahead.
Jason's courteous enough to let Rose's brother, Castor, land the first blow. He gets him in his side and then twice again in the stomach before Jason really starts fighting back. His fists whiz past Castor's head a few times, clipping him once and drawing a little blood that dribbles down his brow. The crowd roars at the site and scent of first blood. Castor comes back with a quick succession of short, powerful jabs, only one of which makes any real contact with Jason, but it's a punch to the center of his chest and leaves him stumbling back and a little breathless. Before he can catch his breath, Castor is on him again, throwing wild punches at his head first but shifting to his gut once Jason wisens up enough to throw his hands up. The boys from Jason's pack go wild at this. Cheering and hollering for him to keep fighting. From where I stand, I can see one of them leaning forwards and squatting low to get a good look at the damage being done. He's so close, he almost gets clipped by Castor's flying elbow, but one of his friends pulls him back just in time. Just when it seems that Jason might be forced to give up, Rose's sharp voice seems to rise above the noise of the others. She's screaming his name, face burning bright red, and it seems her support is all he needs to get back in the fight.
Castor rears back to throw another punch down his way, but Jason leverages his feet against the other's chest and simultaneous kicks Castor back and rolls into a standing position. Castor's caught off guard by the move, obvious thinking Jason was near his end, but recovers quick enough to dodge what would have been a brutal hit. Still Jason gets the best of him, following his body through the missed punch and coming up behind Castor. He wraps his arms around Castor, wedging his throat in the bend of his elbow and using his other hand to leverage a tight hold. Castor kicks back like a bronco, throwing Jason back but his hold on Castor is tight, sending them both tumbling to the ground. With both hands occupied with keeping Castor in the hold, Jason's open to a flurry of hits Castor lands on his sides. In the light of the bonfires, I can see the sweat-slicked muscle of Jason's stomachs tensing over and over again, trying to withstand the blows.
But after a few more punches, it starts to look like Castor is slowing down, his face turning bright red, then moving towards shades of purple. Emmanuel calls it, yelling for Jason to let him go. He does, releasing Castor's head and pushing him away. Castor pelts towards the floor but catches himself on the heels of his hands.
Jason must be somewhat of a gentlemen, which explains why after he stands, he gives Castor a moment to do the same. But Castor's fighting tactics aren't so honorable and even though he fakes like he's going to stand, he only pushes up into a low crouch before launching himself at Jason again. He catches him about the middle and slams him into the ground. He's quick and scrambles to get on top of Jason, but Jason's surprisingly wily and before Castor can throw another blow, Jason springs his body upward, head-butting him hard enough to break his nose, releasing a spray of blood that coats from Jason's chin down his chest.
Castor falls back and before he can get up again, Jason lands on him and delivers three quick jabs to his face in succession. Before he can get in a fourth, Emmanuel steps in. Telling the club boys to haul Jason back and effectively ending the fight.
He grabs Jason's arm and raises it in the air, as if this were a legit boxing match and Jason just won. The pack makes a sound that's almost deafening and Rose rushes forward again. There's a moment of hesitance, when she reaches her brother, still sprawled out on the floor, hands covering his face, but she eventually walks past him and up to Jason, who presses his bloody face to hers as she presses against him. The crowd turns the volume up even louder. One of Jason's buddies throws him his t-shirt and he uses it to wipe away some of the blood. Rose fusses over some of the tears in his skin and the redder spots that'll quickly turn into bruising, but he gently pushes her away.
Walking steadily and strong, but without the pretense of too much pride, he approaches Castor, who's still on the floor but sitting up with a shirt of his own. The two of them look each other over and then Jason offers out his hand. There's a quiet moment while Castor thinks it over and when he accepts, Jason pulls him into a quick hug before the crowd bursts again.
With it all over, everyone heads back out of the woods, spirits high and louder than ever. I've lost Easton and his girl for now and Marissa practically gets plucked out of my hands by her usual crew, leaving me alone in the slow moving crowd.
As I walk, the energy around me leaves me vibrating. But aside from that, there's an itchy feeling creeping up my spine and prickling at the back of my neck. The feeling you get when you're being watched.
I stop, feeling the brush and push of people who continue to move around me, and take a quick look around. I'm not subtle about it – a lone, still girl in the center of a vibrant crowd – but I still manage to catch him before he looks away. Just a few paces away from me, I spot one of the pack boys, Lucas Rosa, unabashedly starring. I stare back, frowning, but he's not deterred. He continues to look, appraising, the expression on his face changing moving from curious to smug.