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Amy Six: The Hard Knock Life by Amy Komori The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. This story is copyright (c) 2010 Amy Komori. All rights reserved. Chapter One: Aftermath Some people are born, some people are made, some people are a combination. I was apparently a combo meal of some kind. And now I was who I was?the person the world thought I was?for the duration. Amy Komori. A girl who hadn't even existed at Halloween time the year before. Speaking of Halloween, it came and went in the aftermath of Darla's disappearance. I'm not sure how deeply her loss affected anyone else beyond Emily and me. They just seemed to get on with whatever it was they had going on, as if Darla had OD'd or run away with eco-terrorists or joined the Unification Church. Emily's friends?who were all ignorant of the real reason she'd vaporized out of our lives?went ahead and planned and put together fun costumes like Austin Powers and the "Scream" killer and partied to celebrate all the morbid things we usually avoided thinking about. Like mortality and rotting away in the ground, the end of summer, the end of youth, and the coming of the season of cold death, the whole mortal cyclical thing. Emily and I had confronted all this directly. While we weren't exactly sure what we'd seen and experienced in Darla's backyard, neither of us felt the appeal of ghosts and demons and witches and international men of mystery. Even in her absence, Darla lived in the spaces between us, in the places where Emily and I overlapped now. We talked about it one morning not long after, just before I left for my daily seven and a half hour torture session. Emily looked pretty glum at breakfast, so I stopped by her bedroom while Mrs. Komori got herself ready for work. Just a few minutes to kill, just enough time to cheer up my big sister. Maybe. I knocked on her door and I heard her voice from inside: "Go away." "No," I said flatly. "Fine." I eased open the door and peeked in. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, still in her tank and pajama bottoms, her knees together and overall, she was looking deflated and forlorn. She peered up at me through the black foliage of her insanely thick hair, her mouth kind of slack. I padded into the room and sat next to her. We sank a little into the mattress and reached up to put my arm around her shoulders. "I'm so very sorry, Hon?Amy," Emily said. "Weirdly, I'm kinda starting to like it when you call me Honey Bunny," I told her. "I failed, dude. I totally failed both of you guys." "Don't sweat it," I said. I pretended to wash dishes and softly sang, "It's the hard knock life for us..." She clucked once, a sardonic little laugh. "I gots me a stupid little sister now." I grinned. "I miss Martin," Emily said. "And Darla." "Well, I miss Martin, too. But not... you know." Emily nodded. "On the plus side, all that hard work your mom did for me isn't going to waste," I said. "And being a girl isn't exactly a bad thing. You're one." "Plus, I hear they're making great strides in medical science," Emily said. She meant it as half-a-joke. The next thing was more than a whole one: "Maybe one day, they'll find a way to graft an elephant's shlong onto people. Then when you grow up, you can do pornos." "Fucking sick, dude. I could've done without that mental image." "You wanted your junk back, though. You were pretty excited about it. Were you like planning your first pee and everything?" "Yeah." I sighed. Wistful feelings of days gone by. "Fuck, dude, we'll figure something out. I mean, I may not ever go back to being a guy or whatever, but I'll be something. In the meantime, I gots me a stupid big sister. Also, I've got this really rad, totally fucked up new life." "Yeah, think of all the things you can ruin this time around." "And at least I didn't bleed this month." "What are you talking about?" "You know. I didn't get my thing." "You didn't?" "Not yet, anyways." "Well, at your age, girls tend to skip a few." News to me. Should I go put a pad in just in case? And then Mrs. Komori was calling me. The train was leaving the station and I while she couldn't force me to ride it, she was pretty sure I was going to wish I had. "Are you gonna be okay?" I asked Emily as I got up to leave. She nodded, looking little cheerier, like a bowl of Cheerios. "How about you, Honey Bunny?" I made a crazy face with my tongue sticking out, gave her two thumbs up and left her laughing. How was I supposed to know if I'd be okay? I ran to my room, grabbed my backpack and followed Mrs. Komori out to her car. A chilly November morning, with dew on the grass and gray skies above. The trees were still full of leaves, most of which were dead by now. This was going to be my life, just the way Mrs. Komori had it planned out. If all went according to that plan, I'd be back out on my own in about nine to ten years. I'd be a woman, at least in body. What I'd be in spirit or mind was still up in the air. Chapter Two: My Lunches with Sarah All that day, I daydreamed my way through classes, sorting through my life up to that point. It had been a wild ride?to make an understatement. I'd met Emily, and we'd had a blast, the two of us. I gave her my virginity. Then I turned into a girl. Sometimes it all seemed unreal, sometimes it seemed more real than the things I did that day at school. And, more and more, my life as Martin seemed like a dream, too. What did Alice say when her looking glass adventure ended? Something like, "He was part of my dream, but then, I was part of his dream, too." One morning I woke up as girl who had dreamed she was a guy. Crazy. "Are you awake, Amy Komori?" "Am I... huh?" The kids laughed. Mr. Kintner, third period Science 1 teacher, famous for his comb-over and his plaid button-up short-sleeved shirts, tapped his chalk on the board. He had a half-smile. Some of the teachers were more tolerant of my Amy ways. Making mostly A's can do that for you. A few desks behind me, Ashleigh Bodine said something I couldn't quite hear. I put my hand behind my head as if I was scratching. Scratching with my middle finger. The bell rang for first period lunch and I hauled ass out of there before Ashleigh Bodine could retaliate. I mean, she would eventually and I'd deal with it then. For now, I had a plan. If I ran quickly enough I thought I'd be able to catch Sarah McAvoy coming out of the office on her way to lunch. I dodged my way though the thronging kids on the central stairs, pushing when I couldn't find daylight. In elementary school, I remembered, they'd made us go to lunch by class, in single file lines and everything was orderly. But here at Delacroix Junior High, they relied on our maturity as young teens to provide self-discipline. We saw how well that worked Monday through Friday. Imagine the chaos if they didn't have two lunch periods, just the one. Anyways, I was right. Sarah was standing in the office, looking out at all the kids streaming by. She had her hands on the glass and a bored look on her face. I was a little disappointed; in my pre-visualization of how this would go down, she had been frightened. She turned, spoke to the cherubim secretary (who I also kind of thought of a being a dumpling, like with pork inside it maybe), ended up waving at her for some reason, then came out with her backpack over one shoulder. Again, she wore a long skirt and some kind of weird-looking brown flats. Craftily, like a ninja, I dropped into the crowd just far enough back to tail her without being spotted. Being a head or so shorter than most of the other kids finally came in handy for something. As we got closer to the lunchroom and the disorderly flow of hungry little dumbasses filtered down into a single file line?helped immensely by the teacher doing lunch room duty at the entrance?I started passing people. I had to time it just right, because if I violated the "no cuts" law, there would have been trouble. I would have to be like the girl with the biggest balls on earth to pull that shit off. Even Ashleigh Bodine would have found herself in a world of hurt. You just didn't cut in a line, no way, no how. Perfection. I joined the line right behind Sarah. Yeah, some of the other kids weren't too happy about it, but all they could do was grumble a little because technically, I'd was crime-free and totally in the right. Could I help it if I happened to be small and swift and able to shoot through holes their clumsy asses were too big to fill? I tapped Sarah on the shoulder and when she turned, I said, "Do you have a beau?" "Huh?" She blinked rapidly, her brain unable to process the question. "Forget it. It's a song." "Oh!" She smiled happily now, confusion subsiding. "I-I haven't seen you in... like a really long time." I burst out laughing and then stopped because I'd erased her smile and made her cheeks redden. Nice one, Amy. Feeling a teensy bit shitty, I bit my lip and shuffled along behind her to the tray station and we both got our trays. Quietly; we didn't chatter our way through the lunch line. By the time we had all our state-sponsored food?meat and vegetable soup, peanut butter sandwich, collard greens and an icebox cookie, plus skim milk for Sarah and lemonade for me?and finished paying, we'd silently acquiesced to having lunch together, which was what I wanted all along. I hummed happily to myself and kind of adopted this bouncing walk. Rising off my toes, doing a little hip shake. I couldn't help it. I wanted to dance, but didn't dare. Sarah McAvoy made me happy. That was good to know. Since I was pretty well stuck like this for the duration?meaning, my entire life?I would need at least one good friend. Emily had Darla, and we all knew how well that turned out. Sarah was kind of like Darla Light, light as in sunshine and goodness, not as in "less calories." I didn't think it was a crush, although it could have been. It was one thing I didn't want to analyze. Once I realized Sarah McAvoy's very presence caused joy, I just wanted to bask in it. We ate lunch together every day after that. I found myself actually looking forward to third period, because once I'd endured the boredom and Ashleigh Bodine's presence, I'd get to rush down and see Sarah. My regular lunch date. Many confusing conversations later, we decided to sign up for art class together the next semester. "Actually, we probably could take a lot of classes together," she told me one day, while eating a gooey peanut butter finger that stuck in her big, white front teeth and kind of grossed me out. "Hmm?" "I... looked at your file." "You're a spy!" She shook her head no and reddened again. She chewed her peanut butter finger and smiled, crumbs on her lips. "Hey, Ayumi," someone said. It was none other than my skatey-skater Mike, who I knew didn't have first lunch. I'd never seen him in the cafeteria. His hair was in his eyes as always, but he'd sprouted a few pimples this fall. The pores on his shiny nose were pretty clogged too and looked like someone had stippled it all over with a black felt-tip pen. The awkward age. "What are you doing here?" I asked, my good mood instantly wrecked. "Word is you broke up with Patrick." "Word is wrong," I said, but I thought, Word is you're gonna have an Adam's apple as big as a golf ball by this time next year. "You didn't break up?" "I was never WITH HIM!" I said, the last part coming out as a shriek. I lowered my head and whispered, "Leave me the fuck alone, dude. What are you even doing here?" "I got a hall pass," he said, and held up the laminated yellow card that said simply, "HALL PASS" in all caps. Someone had tried to use a blue ball-point pen to turn the "a" in "hall" into an "e." "You better get ready to haul ass." "Damn Ayumi. You kiss your mom with that mouth?" "No, I kiss yours, fucker. Go away." "I just want you to know that since you're not Patrick's girlfriend anymore?" "Not only am I not, I never was. Why does everyone keep saying I was? Go away." "?that you're in for a major beatdown." Sarah gasped audibly. I tensed up, but I wasn't really surprised at the news. Everyone knew by now Mike was a mean fucker who did things that put my five finger discounts to shame, and he'd pretty much been the opposite of nice to me in particular since he got sent to the office that time. What surprised me was how he'd been holding back, and why. Patrick? Patrick had somehow been protecting me? Just as I was figuring that out and starting to steam about it, Mike gave me a playful slap. His eyes went wide as if he'd surprised himself with this uber-ballsy move, but he was already making for the exit under the careful scrutiny of the teacher on duty. Just before he ducked out the door, he looked back at me and mouthed, "You're dead." "A-aren't you... scared?" Sarah asked. She was visibly shaken. "Of that stupid asshole? Not hardly," I said. But to be honest, I was. I felt the sudden absence of protection, the protection I hadn't even known about, like I had kicked a blanket off in my sleep and woke up in a bed like an ice tray. It left me naked and vulnerable. A beatdown. I had a date for a beatdown. Well, an indefinite date for one. We hadn't shaken on it or written it down in or day planners or anything. But at some point in the near future, I'd leave my guard down or find myself in some unsupervised corner of the school and if Mike was there at the same time he was going to beat my ass. "W-why does he want to fight you?" Sarah asked. "I dunno," I replied. "He got in trouble the first day of school, so maybe he blames me?" "Maybe he's jealous of you?" "Oh yeah, there's so much to be jealous of. Maybe he's just a bully." Sarah and I lapsed into silence and I looked around at the other students. I wondered if they were already buzzing with the news. Skater Mike vs. the Racist Blowjob Queen. "Do you play an instrument?" Sarah asked. "Who on the what now? Do I do what? Sorry, I wasn't listening..." "Do you play an instrument?" "Oh. Kinda. I used to play guitar, but I don't have one now. I wasn't all that good..." "I sorta knew that, actually. I saw you were in a mariachi club, so I was hoping you were like awesome at it. I play piano." "Rad. Are you like awesome at it?" Sarah just smiled and shrugged. Sarah McAvoy is love, I decided. When the last bell ended my sixth period class, I ran again, bumping people in my escape. On the way to the bus stop, I made sure teachers were always within eyesight. Mrs. Komori came pretty quickly and I was safe. For the day. Chapter Three: The Great Amy Hype My homeroom was the epicenter of the struggle, and the kids there were loving it. It was better than the pre-fight hype on HBO for Tyson versus Holyfield or something and they were our studio audience. Having Mike there meant we faced off every morning. Not that he could do anything to me in front of Ms. Klein except mouth threats and flip me birds under his desktop. For my part, I pretended to ignore him and when the first class bell rang, I walked out like a little robot, not daring to look to the side or back. He got me one time with a massive head thump, though. It sounded like a baseball bat clocked my skull, and I ducked and grabbed the back of my head as he and his posse bounded past me. I couldn't believe a kid could cause so much pain with just a finger. But Mike had miscalculated like the dumbass he was. While not every single kid in school knew me, and I wasn't particularly well-liked even by those who did, I was a girl and Mike was a guy. People reacted pretty strongly and not in the way he intended when he started telling people I was soon to die by his hands. He was also guy who was universally loathed; all he really had going for him was that hood-ish rep. As word spread outside our immediate social circles that the school's shittiest, meanest boy was planning on beating up some girl, public opinion largely went my way. A few kids who I didn't even know stopped me between classes and told me they thought Mike was a dick. Or an ass. Or a dickass. An asshole, a tool, a turd in the bowl, a fuck- knocker, a homo, a dork and a loser. It was like doing ESPN interviews. Yeah, I'ma kill that muthafucka. I'ma eat that muthafucka's children. Not that I actually said anything like that. Each time I just acted like I didn't care. It's casual, dude. I don't think he's going to do anything. And the more people took my side, the more of a walking wreck Mike became, the more desperate. It was put up or shut up time for him and even if he put up, he wouldn't win. I mean, yeah, he'd definitely win the actual fight. I was absolutely convinced he'd make Cream O' Wheat out of me, pour me into cans and sell me at lunch. He was going to stomp me like T-Rex did that car in "Jurassic Park." But I would win the moral victory, and maybe that would speed up my healing from within the oxygen tent and all during my long rehabilitation. One afternoon when anticipation was at its most fevered, Patrick showed up at my locker. "'Sup, Ayumi?" he asked. I didn't want to talk to him. Sarah was standing behind me and she sort of shrank away. We'd never really discussed my history with Patrick, so she no doubt believed he really was my ex-boyfriend. She may have even believed some of the sick rumors about stuff I did at the skate park with him and his friends. "Talk to me, Ayumi." I slammed my locker shut and gave Patrick a narrow-eyed "eat shit and die" look, but he just stood there, with that dumb smile on his face. "Come on, Sarah," I said, slinging my backpack over one shoulder. "Ayumi, wait up!" Fuck, Patrick was following us. In frustration, I threw down my backpack, setting off some tittering laughter from a few of the passersby. Stupid kids. "What?" I demanded. "Look, if you want me to kick Mike's ass, I will." "No, I don't want you to kick Mike's ass. I want you out of my life." "Look, he may be a pussy tryin' to live large and shit, but he's gonna murder you, Ayumi. You don't even stand a chance." "So I'm supposed to let you fight for me? You've been telling everyone I did... did... stuff with you." I couldn't even bring myself to say it, at least not to him. The whole thing was so maddening and humiliating. "Okay, yeah, but that's just because... I like you." "Oh, that's totally cool then. Because you know how many friends I have because of you? None. Well, one. I have one because she's nice. But everyone else thinks I'm some kind of... like... promiscuous freak or something." "Not everyone. Lots of people think you're a dyke." "You know what? Fuck you, Patrick. Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. But whatever I am, I will never, ever get with you. Dude, I'm not even old enough to even talk about that stuff. And I sure as fuck won't ask you to protect me from some stupid little bullying asshole. Just let me get my ass beat and leave me alone. Like forever." "Fine." "You fucking bet it's fine. It's more than fine. It's awesome." "Yeah, well, I think so too." "Think that shit walking, dude." He slowly turned, kept looking back at me. "There you go," I jeered. "Think that shit walking away." Patrick's eyes went visibly glossy and he walked a little faster now, turned his head away. "Keep walking, dude. That's great! You're totally doing it! You're totally walking away!" I shouted at his back. Then Patrick was elbowing his way through the kids and gone. I'd finally gotten through to him. I picked up my backpack, grabbed Sarah by the arm?hurting her from the sound she made?and led her down the steps to the bus stop. Our plan was to take the bus?Mrs. Komori was so excited for me when I asked if I could, she grinned widely enough I got to see the metal dental work on her molars-- and then go to her house and she'd show me how she could play the piano and I'd get to meet her mom. It was kind of a big step in our friendship as far as I was concerned. Pull this one off, charm her mom, and BOOM! My first friend since my little transition. At the bottom of the steps? None other than Mike and Little Josh. They were waiting for us and Sarah poked me in the ribs. "I-it's those guys," she whispered. "I know," I said. I frowned. And it hit me. A total set-up. Mike couldn't take the strain of his declining reputation, so he'd forced the issue. Patrick's job had been to hold us up long enough for my enemies to get into place. I took a deep breath and led Sarah past them; Mike and Little Josh fell in behind us. Sarah and I got onto her bus. Just before it pulled out, Mike and Little Josh got on. They sat together near the front while Sarah and I were in a seat near the back. That way, we'd have to walk past them at the right stop. Trapped. I mean, I could have stayed on the bus until the end of the route, but whatever I did, Mike and Little Josh would be right there. I could tell the bus driver, but that would only delay the inevitable and make me look like the Queen of Wusses. Instead of a fun afternoon with Sarah McAvoy, I was now on something like a funeral ride, with the bus as my hearse. "What are you gonna do?" Sarah asked. "Get off at your stop and go to your house." "B-but they'll..." "Yeah, probably." I was breathing hard and couldn't hide it. Thin lipped, squirming in my seat, I stared down at my feet. The same Vans I'd worn when Emily and I had run from whatever darkness had struck at Darla's. The same Vans I'd been wearing all summer, the first pair of shoes I'd received in my new life. "This is my stop," Sarah told me after what seemed like a very short ride. My mouth dry, I got up with her. Half the kids on the bus got off with us, and of course, Mike and Little Josh. The bus driver, completely oblivious, smiled at us as he closed the doors and drove off, my last chance at telling someone in authority gone in a cloud of diesel exhaust. I looked around at all the faces, girls and boys. Most of them seemed sympathetic, but all of them were expectant. They were the lucky lottery winners, the ones who won a chance for ringside seats at the fight of the decade. "Come on, Sarah," I said for the second time that afternoon. That fucker Patrick, telling me he liked me when all the time he knew this shit was going to happen. My eyes narrowed to slits; if I survived today, I was going to make him eat his skate deck. I wondered if it still had the silver flowers I'd painted on it. "Hey, tough girl," Little Josh said from behind me. "Got something smartass to say now?" I blinked rapidly and raked my lower lip with my teeth. We moved along in a three-part mass like a big ugly insect, with Sarah and me as the head, Mike and Little Josh the thorax and the other kids-- dropping back to give us room?as the abdomen. Just an ant crawling along, about to murder itself. The abdo-kids no doubt thought they'd stifle the violence if they squeezed in too close. Sarah and I led, then Mike and Little Josh, then the fight fans. Then, someone shoved me from behind and I stumbled. Through my peripheral vision, I saw Sarah looking back, her eyes wide. "Come on, Ayumi," Mike said. "She thinks she's so fuckin' bad." I kept walking. Maybe we'd make the McAvoy's house before he got worked up enough to hit me. He'd shove me a few times, then realize I wasn't going to turn around and do something stupid like let him destroy me. His violent energy would dissipate in a cloud of futility. At least, I was hoping for something like that. Mike or Little Josh shoved me again. Harder this time. I took a couple of staggering steps, barely staying on my feet. "Goddamn!" I heard someone say from behind us, a boy's voice high with excitement. A knot in my stomach. I was in a constant state of flinch?any second now I expected a sucker punch to come flying over my left shoulder, exploding my head with stars, moons and clovers. "Come on, fucker!" Little Josh shouted, his voice shrill. Movement behind me. This was it. Instead of a fist arcing over my shoulder, I felt a grip on my backpack and it was pulled down, bending me back from the knees. The bag slipped off down my arms and I popped back up. Fight or flight? Flight, flight, and more flight. My adrenal glands told me to run but it was too late. A heavy weight?you know, boy-sized-- crashed into me and then I was tumbling over in the grass underneath Mike, his body crushing me, mashing my face into the ground, then our momentum rolled us over and I came out on top. The other kids were running, forming a ring around us. I closed my eyes and started swinging for all I was worth. I connected a couple of times, felt electric shocks of pain in my finger joints and knuckles as my soft hand bones met Mike's hard skull. I can win this shit, I thought excitedly, crazily. I hadn't been in a fight in years; even as a guy I'd avoided them. I was in one now, though. "Fucking kill her chinky ass!" Little Josh shrieked. I was screaming, too, my whole body rattling like a maraca with all the adrenaline being pumped into my system. Shake me for music Mike got his right leg into my side somehow and abruptly leveraged me sideways. Fuck being tiny! Fuck this weighing as much as a sparrow shit! Scissored, I landed on my side and Mike's much heavier body came over the top. If he mounted me, I was going to suffer. I twisted my hips and lashed out with my foot, kicking wildly and one lucky sneaker plunged into Mike's soft belly. He let out a long groan, his face went white and he fell over on his side. And immediately yakked his lunch. Covered with grass and sweat?mine and Mike's?and tears in my eyes, my nose blossoming red, salty hot copper streaming into my mouth, I jumped to my feet with that skating-infused dancer's grace I'd recently discovered. Mike was hurt. I'd fucking hurt him. My lucky Vans! I'd kicked him so hard, I'd torn the sole of the guilty shoe and it opened like a dog's mouth as I stomped on his hand and kicked him in the arms and legs. "Motherfucker!" I squealed. "MotherFUCKER!" I kicked him I don't know how many times and he rolled over and over in the grass vomiting on himself, his face turning purple. I kept kicking and stomping and screaming obscenities and then hands were on me pulling me away. "Calm down, kid," someone said. "Dude, this fight is over!" I struggled vainly against all the octopus arms wrapped around me and through my tears saw Little Josh helping Mike to his feet. I shook everyone off and stood there panting and sobbing. Mike was doubled up on his knees, clutching his stomach, dead grass in his hair. I wiped my face and saw a smear of red the back of my hand. Little Josh was trying to say something, his face pale. Then I realized how badly I had to pee and felt pretty scared I was going to go in my pants again just like I had at Darla's house. I held it tightly and pointed at Mike and Little Josh. "You little assholes think you're such hot shit!" I said in a much higher pitch than I'd intended. Plus, it was an incredibly childish insult. Someone tried to put an arm around me but I shrugged it off and slapped the hand away. I stood up straight, feeling the blood running in a thin drizzle down my face, onto my chin, dripping onto my shirt now. "She's crazy," someone said. Awe and fear. Honey Bunny. The name came to me in Emily's voice and I let out a shaky little laugh. "Give me all your money or I'll execute every motherfucking last one of ya!" I shouted, trying to sound as bad and bossy as possible, given the circumstances and my spazzed out state. "Or... just you two little pricks!" And amazingly, Little Josh reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled five dollar bill and threw it on the grass. "Is that all you got?" someone behind me said, helpfully. "That's all I got, you fuckin' little chinky-ass bitch," Little Josh said, looking straight at me. He helped Mike to his feet. I was really gratified to see Mike still couldn't stand up straight. They walked off together, not bothering to look back. People patted me on my shoulders, asked if I was all right. I sniffled blood, then picked up the money and stuck it in my own pocket. I walked with a herky-jerky way over to where my backpack had fallen. The flap had come undone and the books, pencils and papers had spilled out. Sarah helped me gather them up while I fumbled with my now useless hands. "Here, I'll do it," Sarah said. She finished up for me and I felt so grateful. She even picked it up and slung it over her shoulder and walked off towards her house carrying it. I followed her, shivering, hugging myself, wiping my nose. Staring down at my wounded shoe. Mrs. McAvoy, who looked like a larger version of her daughter, freaked out when she saw me. My clothes were all disheveled and I had little bloopery droplets of blood all down the front of my shirt. Well, on the collar and chest part, anyways. I had blades of grass sticking to me which itched like crazy and grass and dirt down my pants, in my undies (I could feel it gritting away down there), under my stripey socks?black and white?and my shoe was ruined. Sarah's mom brushed me off and made me lie on the sofa with my feet elevated. She removed my shoes for me and tossed them aside, and had Sarah run and bring a damp washcloth. "Kids can be so crazy," Mrs. McAvoy said sadly as she wiped my face. She gave me the washcloth and told me to hold it under my nose. The embarrassing part is, while I lay there being ministered to by this woman I didn't even know, hovered over by her daughter who was still pretty much a mystery as well, I totally lost it. I started wailing, tears pouring suddenly from my eyes and down my cheeks and the two McAvoys, large and small, started dithering over what to do. Call her mom, call the police, those kids, what if they arrest Amy instead, she won the fight and stole their money. "Don't call the police!" I blubbered. "Don't! Please don't!" "I-I guess that's out, then," Mrs. McAvoy said, confused. "Can I call your mom?" I could only nod. My squall had quieted down to gentle rain instead. I sniffled, one nostril still clogged with rapidly clotting gore. Mrs. McAvoy got my phone number and went to make the call. "I-I'm not sure she-she's home," I said, my voice still all quaky. "I'll try anyway," Mrs. McAvoy replied. I was breathing rapidly and irregularly, feeling tatters of pain and whatnot from the fight and the crying, which I was thoroughly mortified about now. "That stupid Patrick," I told Sarah. I had to cover for all that weeping. I still didn't sound so tough. "I'm gonna fuck his shit up for what he did." "What did he do?" "You don't know? He set me up, Sarah. He kept us talking in the hallway while?" But she was shaking her head no. "He did," I protested. "Mike and Little Josh were in with him and they- they?" "I don't think so," Sarah said softly, looking away from me. "I mean... how would he know we were going on the bus?" "Because... he... they..." Holy shit, she was right! We hadn't told anyone, as far as I knew. And who would have eavesdropped? It wasn't something anyone could really coordinate unless they had two-way radios or something. Only a total raging paranoid would think otherwise. But that meant... "Patrick really does still like me," I concluded gloomily. "A-and he really wanted to fight Mike for you," Sarah said. Her voice sounded inadvertently chipper so she clamped her hands over her mouth. Stupid Patrick. He really had been trying to apologize. Oh well, I didn't care. He was still responsible for all kinds of vile rumors about me. At least I'd finally put an end to whatever it was between us. Unrequited love or some stupid boy crush. He'll meet someone else, I thought. Maybe that Kathleen girl or whatever her name was that dumbass friend of Ashleigh Bodine told me about. Ashleigh Bodine. Wow, she popped right into my head and it made me wonder just what my reputation was going to be with her the next day. I felt a delicious chill of excitement. I'd kicked Mike's ass. A lucky boot to the belly, yeah. Without that, I'd probably still be lying down the street, Sarah cradling my head?looking like a chewed-out piece of Hubba Bubba?and weeping softly to herself. No one would ever really know how random an event the fight turned on. What would Ashleigh Bodine, Denise and all those others think about me as an ace fighter- girl? I wondered if they'd be so flippant about drawing my ire for a while. I kicked Mike's ass! I told myself that over and over, tasting it, testing it, turning it around in my mind. I kicked Mike's ass. He probably outweighed me by thirty or forty pounds. My fists would never have been able to do it. My arms were way too weak, my wrists too narrow. But my feet? They were the great equalizers. It was worth a new pair of shoes to learn that. "Your mother's on her way over here," Mrs. McAvoy said when she came back into the room. "You just lie still and try to calm down, okay?" "Okay. Thanks so much, Mrs. McAvoy." She smiled and left me alone with her daughter. Sarah and I just stared at each other. Then this look of wonder slowly dawned on her face. She smiled. "You stole that kid's money," she said. I did my best to look innocent. I batted my eyelashes. Then I sniffed really hard because my stopped-up nose was driving me crazy. When I could talk, I said in a little baby voice, "Sarah McAvoy, will you be my friend?" Epilogue: I'm the Last Splash Mrs. Komori came as soon as she could get away from her office. I told her the whole story in front of Sarah and her mother and while she wasn't convinced at first, Sarah's help had her on my side by the time I finished explaining. On the way back to our house, we stopped at a CVS and bought some SuperGlue to fix the sole on my shoe. "You're just gonna have to make do, Amy," she told me. I shrugged. No new shoes for thumping Mike. Might've been nice, though. Maybe something with steel toes. That night, Emily declared me the Champion of Delacroix Junior High, heavyweight division, and gave me this crown she'd made out of construction paper and glitter. "I think real champions get belts," I told her. "Who said you were a real champion?" she replied, and cracked herself up. Instead of on my head, the crown went on my dresser. The next day I had a little lit cherrybomb of nerves down in my stomach going into school. It wasn't like I'd turned into Miss Popularity. I was way too weird for that. Kids didn't greet me and tell me how great they thought I was or anything like that. But what would've set off my belly-buster was that impulsive Honey Bunny flourish I'd added. I still had five bucks I'd essentially robbed from Little Josh in my pocket. I wasn't sure if he could make a case of it or get me suspended. I mean, it took place way off campus but I wasn't sure how far the long arm of the vice-principal reached. Plus, I was due to make my first probation appointment pretty soon. I could see myself standing in front of that judge again. Mike was there in homeroom, no worse for wear, but he didn't even look at me. I don't think he dared. That by itself was a pretty sweet victory. One thing, though?I wasn't about to press my advantage and do anything to re-piss him off. I didn't have any phony ideas about getting lucky a second time. Let it slide, Amy. If he leaves you alone, you leave him alone. The story was circulating and I reaped a few benefits in the immediate flush of semi-fame. A few more people, guys and girls, talked to me in the hallway between classes. After Science 1, Ashleigh Bodine and her little crew asked me to sit with them at lunch. So Sarah and I bent my principles. The only dissenter was Denise; she sat in a mixed group at another table. You couldn't win over everyone, I concluded. Ashleigh Bodine and her friends didn't apologize for all the rude shit they'd said about me behind my back, but I wasn't about to hold grudges. With that in mind, I genuinely tried at first to be on my best behavior and smile a lot and agree with everyone. But like most good intentions, it didn't last. Towards the end of lunch, just when we were all getting along so well, for some pixie reason I offended them again by launching into this rant about how much I hated the Spice Girls and Alanis Morissette. I think I went a little overboard, but I really felt I was onto something. The other girls seemed to think I was merely on something. In the face of overwhelming disagreement, I thought I'd better become invisible and quick. No one looked especially disappointed when I pushed back my chair and stood. "Come on, Sarah," I said, and realized I was quietly pleased with myself. "Um... I..." Sarah said, caught between my bitchiness and Ashleigh Bodine's. She must have been wondering what she'd gotten herself into. But she stood and we picked up our trays. "See ya," I said to everyone at the table in this total Pollyannaliciously sweet voice, smiling broadly, crinkling my nose. The look on Ashleigh Bodine's face was one of pure disgust, way more nourishing that the foodlike stuff we'd eaten. "Those girls are really gonna hate you now," Sarah whispered, genuinely concerned. "It's casual," I said. We threw our drink cartons into the recycling bins and dumped our trays at the kitchen window. Then I took Sarah McAvoy's hand and led her on a snaking path through the lunchroom tables, out the doors and into the bright November sunshine. Not a cloud, just a dry blue sky stretching up forever.