The Beginning and End of Everything

by Stevie J. Cole

  "Hey, guys! Wait up." Poppy shouted from the playground, her and Hope already jogging to catch up to us on the sidewalk.

  Before they reached us, I held up my hand. "Not now, Poppy," I said. "We're going to become men."

  We continued walking, and Brandon draped an arm around my shoulder. "That's right, poss. You’re gonna have to sit this one out. No girls allowed."

  Poppy shoved him. "You’re acting weird."

  "They're dumb boys. Of course, they’re acting weird." Hope crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s okay. We’ll just follow you.”

  With a smile, Poppy looped her arm through Brandon's, then he stopped walking, which meant I stopped walking. Hope bumped right into me.

  "You can't go." Brandon’s tone left no real room for argument.

  Her face crumpled a little when he moved her arm. "I can go wherever I want."

  Brandon shook his head, and we started down the sidewalk just as Darryl O'Sheehan and his two dumb friends, Matt and Jimmy, trotted around the corner.

  "Aw,” Darryl halted, nudging Matt in the ribs while pointing our direction. “Look, it's the little pikey snot and his fat friend.”

  Hope shoved between Brandon me, then dug her fists into her hips. "What do you want, Darryl?"

  His attention swung to Hope, his gaze dropping below her chin for a second before a slight smirk settled on his face. "My brother says that ginger lasses have ginger pubes.” He laughed. “That true?"

  “Wouldn’t you want to know.” She flipped her hair behind her shoulder, flaunting the air of complete arrogance Hope carried so well. “My sister says your brothers are prize twats, and my dad says your family's a joke."

  Darryl edged closer to Hope, jaw tensed.

  Then Poppy stepped between them. She jabbed him in the chest. "Leave her alone, Darryl.”

  "If it isn't Measch." He flicked a strand of Poppy’s hair while his friends laughed.

  Brandon moved closer to Poppy—just like I knew he would.

  I wanted to be the one to help her for once. So I shouted, "You need to leave!" my voice cracking right on cue.

  Darryl’s attention shifted to me. "Did you say something, fatso?"

  A lump lodged in my throat when he stepped closer. "Y—yeah.” I sucked in a breath to keep from passing out. “I said.” I had to clear my throat to get the word “leave” out.

  "Or what? You'll sit on me with your fat arse?" He laughed, his friends joining in. "Or maybe you'll chase me? Can you run as far as the swing set with all that blubber?" Now they were cackling, but I pretended like I didn't care, even though I did.

  Brandon squared his shoulders and clenched his fist. "Darryl O'Sheehan, you shut your feckin’ mouth. Or I'm gonna punch it."

  "Shut up, pikey. I was talking to fatso."

  "Ah, that's it. No one calls my best friend, fat." Brandon threw a jab that landed squarely on Darryl’s mouth and busted his lip wide open.

  “You little…” Darryl stumbled back, cupping his face while Matt and Jimmy stepped in and grabbed Brandon by the shirt, everyone exchanging punches while I stood there in shock.

  This wasn’t just a fight; this was a brawl. A feral part of me wanted to snatch one of those guys by the collar and throw them to the ground, my feet remained cemented to the spot. Brandon elbowed Matt in the face with such force that he dropped to his knees.

  Poppy screamed for everyone to stop while Hope kneed Darryl in the crotch, and Brandon staggered over to Matt to help him to his feet while the boys took off.

  "Better run,” Brandon started after them. “Or I'm gonna come burn your house down!"

  Brandon wiped his bloodied mouth with the sleeve of his shirt, and I hung my head. I’d stood there and let my best friend take a beating to defend me.

  Poppy threw her arms around Brandon's neck. "Oh, Brandon…are you okay?" And the adrenaline pumping through me slowed, quickly replaced by dejection. Like always, Brandon was the hero.

  I followed Bran back to the pikey camp, hardly saying a word.

  We’d barely set foot inside the caravan before his ma swatted him with her dishcloth. "Brandon Patrick O'Kieffe, you been fighting again?"

  He sighed when she grabbed his face and inspected his battered jaw. "He hit me first, Ma."

  "Doesn't matter.” She let go of his cheeks with a slight shove. Then planted her fists onto her hips, looking down at him with the kind of stern look that made even me want to shrink away. “That boy’s mother called me. You told him you’d burn his house to the ground?” She shook her head. “What do ya think it makes me look like? Like you were raised by dogs. Stealing. Fighting—suspended from school.” She exhaled, disappointment obvious with her frown. “You're grounded for a week."

  "That's so fecking unfair!"

  "Boy!"

  The flimsy door to the bedroom at the back of the caravan flung open. Brandon and I both flinched.

  "Talk to your mother like that again…” His dad’s shoulder bumped the doorway as he stumbled out in nothing but a pair of boxers. “And you'll feel my belt on your arse."

  "You talk to her worse," Brandon mumbled, and I cringed.

  I was too afraid to even make eye contact with the man, much less mumble under my breath.

  Mr. O’Kieffe stormed toward us, face red and jaw twitching. Instead of cowering away, Brandon pushed back his shoulders, making himself as tall as he could. Then Mr. O’Kieffe smacked Brandon’s jaw with such force that it knocked him to the floor. My breath stilled. And fear seized my muscles when his dad reared back to strike him again.

  Mrs. O’Kieffe grabbed his arm. “Des! Connor's here," she said quietly.

  His dad’s bloodshot eyes cut over to me, and I scrambled back against the wall, reaching for the door. I thought maybe if I could run to his Uncle Darren’s or grab Old Man McGinty, I could help him, but before I could turn the knob, Mr. O’Kieffe shoved his foot against Brandon’s side. "Get on out of here, boy.”

  I threw open the door while Brandon stumbled to his feet, and then we both fell out of the caravan. When the door slammed shut behind us, a weak, sinking sensation flooded my body. Brandon started across the field, and I followed, uncertain of what to say or do.

  Guilt festered in my gut. The only reason Brandon got into that fight was to stick up for me. Which made me feel as though it were my fault he’d just been hit.

  He stopped in front of Old Man’s caravan and kicked a rock before he sat on an upturned wheelbarrow with the wheel missing. He put his head in his hands. "I hate my dad."

  "He's horrible." I nodded, scraping my trainer over the edge of the wheelbarrow. "Look, I'm sorry you got in trouble for fighting. But thanks for sticking up for me."

  He shrugged. "I'm not gonna let them say shit to you."

  "Yeah, I wish I could punch them."

  "You can."

  "Nah,” I let out a sigh. “I'm too scared. And they're right; I am fat."

  Brandon pushed off the wheelbarrow, slapping a hand on my shoulder. "I'll always have your back."

  I didn't want him to help me all the time, though. I wanted to be like him, have Poppy hug me, and the bullies stop picking on me because they were scared of me—not Brandon. And besides, who was gonna have Brandon's back?

  More than anything, I wanted to be the kind of friend to Brandon that he was to me. "Can you teach me how to punch?" I asked.

  A slow grin worked over his lips. "Sure."

  "And then we can have each other’s backs," I said.

  He nodded. "Friends forever, remember?"

  "Always."

  12

  Brandon

  September 2003

  Two boys circled each other in the pen, dishing out punches that left the straw spattered with blood. With each blow, drunken cheers rang out from the crowd. Any second, I’d be in that very ring, and the thought of it made my stomach a jittery ball of nerves.

  A hand landed on my shoulder, and I jumped.

  “Easy, lad,” Uncle Darren said. “Here
. Drink this.” He thrust his hip flask in my face, and I tipped it back. “It’ll help steady ya.”

  The whiskey burned my throat, but that didn’t keep me from chugging several more gulps before he snatched the flask from my hand.

  “Easy. I want you confident. Not shitfaced.”

  “You said you used to fight drunk.”

  He snorted. “Lad, I can handle my liquor. You?” He squeezed my small bulge of a bicep. “Not so much.”

  The roar of the crowd grew louder, dragging my attention to the pen. One of the fighters stood in the center with both fists raised above his head while a group of men dragged the other, unconscious guy between the pallets.

  The whiskey churned in my gut, and that sensation summed up my feelings on the whole situation.

  Uncle Darren grabbed both of my shoulders hard, bringing his lips close to my ear. “Now, remember what I said. He’s a chunky little bastard, so dance around him. When you hit, make it hard and fast.” He slapped me on the back, and I stumbled forward.

  The few people in front of the haphazard gate stepped aside, letting me into the pen just as the old man in the center cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, “Welcome, Brandon O’Kieffe!” A mixture of cheers, wolf whistles, and shouts rang out, and that churn in my gut turned to fear in my chest.

  My opponent stepped across from me. He was bigger, chubby, and although my head spun under the rush of adrenaline, I was scared.

  “And he’ll be fighting, Billy Richards!”

  Fear laced worry crackled through my veins. I didn’t want to be a disappointment to Uncle Darren or my dad. I didn’t want to lose in front of all these people. With a heavy swallow, I forced myself to calm down and do everything Uncle Darren had taught me.

  The bell pinged, and for a second, I froze. Billy moved toward me, bouncing from side to side. When he went for a right hook, I ducked. Then popped up and drove my fist into his jaw as hard as I could.

  There was a second where everything slowed.

  The cheers of the crowd faded into muted background noise, and it was just Billy Richards and me. He staggered a step and went down, hitting the ground like a felled tree. Much to my shock, I’d knocked him out. All I could do was stand and stare in disbelief.

  Someone grabbed me. I was thrown into the air, hoisted onto Uncle Darren’s shoulders. All the noise filtered back in, the cheering, the praise. Next Champion. Better than Darren.

  One punch. That was all it took for everything I knew to change. One punch both saved and doomed me.

  News of the fight spread from Billy’s school to mine, until it was all anyone talked about. I reveled in the new-found power. The bullies, who for years, had called me a pikey and Connor fat, now stayed out of my way. And the girls…well, the girls couldn’t get enough of me.

  Which is what had led me to this moment. The moment where all of me needed to cross the line from boy to man in one fell swoop.

  It was past time. I was a fighter now, and I needed to become a man in every sense of the word. Now I just had to figure out how to make that happen. But I had a plan.

  I scanned the length of the aisle at the One Stop. The bright, fluorescent bulbs felt like a spotlight, a beacon for any passersby, alerting them to what I was doing. My attention turned back to the shelves, skimming the boxes of johnnies: Thin. Ribbed. Magnum. Glow in the dark. I didn’t know where the hell to start. Although, I guessed glow in the dark might be helpful…

  An old lady shuffled around the corner with her walker, and I panicked, grabbing a box of the glow in the dark rubbers and shoving them inside my jacket before heading to the exit.

  "Hey!"

  "Ah, shit." I rushed out of the store, taking off in the direction of the camp. But when I chanced a look over my shoulder, a guy in a One Stop vest was chasing after me, which meant I couldn't go back to the camp. I hooked it around a corner and darted down an alley, changing course and booking it to Poppy’s. I vaulted the gate and climbed the trellis, tumbling in through her open window, completely out of breath.

  "Do you ever use a door?" Poppy asked.

  When I glanced up, I was shocked to see Connor sitting on the floor next to her. A math book laid open between them, but they were close enough that their knees touched.

  "You two look cozy." I forced a mask over the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  Honestly, I wanted to sit close to Poppy like that, but I couldn’t. Not without wanting to run my fingers through her soft hair, or inhale the sweet smell of her perfume. I'd much rather have been planning to lose my virginity to Poppy rather than Lisa, but Connor liked her. No. He loved her. That boy had always looked at Poppy Turner as if she hung the moon, and I understood why. I really did. She was kind and good; she was everything lacking in my life and everything I craved. Everything. And I cherished her far too much to ever pull her down to my level. My dad said I was good for nothing, and Poppy, well, she needed someone good for something. Connor was good, and I saw how happy it made him when Poppy smiled at him. So I swallowed my own feelings and teased them both like I didn’t care, even though seeing them like that made my insides twist.

  "Shut it, Brandon.” Poppy shoved me. “What did you nick this time?"

  Connor arched a brow. "A nudey magazine?"

  I flashed them a wide smile. Despite the situation, they were both my best friends, and I was about to make what was potentially the biggest step in a man’s life. "Check this shit out." I pulled out the box from under my jacket and threw it at Connor. "Glow in the dark johnnies. I'm gonna pop Lisa's cherry with a lightsaber dick."

  The smile on Poppy's face fell clean off. She looked away, but I pretended not to notice.

  "What?" Con snatched them off the carpet. "Glow in the dark johnnies? Who would’ve thought?" He tossed them back. "You know you have to date her if you pop her cherry. It's a rule.."

  "I do not! I bought her flowers for Christ’s sake. Jesus and me talked about it."

  "Lisa? Really, Brandon. She’s not even cute.” Poppy’s arms were crossed, her gaze glued to the wall.

  Poppy was jealous, but I remained in blissful denial. She was my friend. That was it. I refused to acknowledge the fact that I thought she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen, because, apart from Con, she was my best friend. And although I was ruled by hormones, when it came to Poppy, I was determined not to let those desires win.

  “You could do better,” she said.

  "Yeah, but she has massive boobs. That's the most important thing about a girl. Everyone knows that."

  It was obvious from the way Connor’s lips rolled in that he was trying his best not to laugh.

  Poppy’s gaze dropped to her chest, and a deep frown etched across her face. "Nice to know. I don't have big boobs."

  "Ah, poss. You don't count. You’re my best friend."

  "I like your boobs, Poppy.” Connor’s eyes went wide like he had shocked himself.

  I doubled over in laughter, Poppy shoved him, and he toppled over on the floor, his cheeks cherry red.

  I stuffed the condoms inside my jacket pocket on my way to the window. After I threw my leg over the ledge, I paused. "Next time you see me, I'll be a changed man." Then I climbed down from Poppy’s window, feeling a lot less confident than I pretended to be.

  Lisa’s house was on the nice side of town, where rows of three-story brick townhomes sat nestled among shiny new cars. A few years ago, girls from this side of town wouldn’t have given me a second glance…

  Crickets chirped in the bushes, silencing when I walked up the empty driveway to the dark townhome. I knocked on the door and waited, unable to find a good place for my hands—my pockets, my sides. When no one answered, I almost sighed in relief. Just as I turned to leave, a light inside cut on, spilling through the small semi-circle of glass in the front door. Lisa pulled it open, and we stood in awkward silence the way only two virginal teenagers could.

  She invited me in to watch a movie. The whole time, I was on edge. My
gaze kept darting to the doorway, waiting for her parents to storm in and kick me out. If I were going to do this, I needed to get it done before they came back.

  I placed my hand, with a little too much force, on her thigh. That was the teenage code for “I want to have sex with you.” She faced me, and I swallowed hard, telling myself I just had to be a man and go for it. So, I kissed her.

  One thing led to another, and before I knew it, Lisa was in nothing but her pink underwear, and I was scrambling for my lightsaber johnnie.

  They say that losing your virginity should be meaningful, but I’m sure most people would recall it as nothing more than a fumble and a poke. The only reason I remembered losing mine was that all I could think of the entire time was Poppy.

  With every brush of Lisa’s lips, each touch of her bare skin against mine, I imagined it was Poppy, pretending to have the girl that I never would. The girl I loved too much to ever dare try to touch like that. I felt guilty for fantasizing about her and guilty that the person I was losing it to wasn’t her.

  I pictured the disappointment I would see on Poppy’s face when she found out I’d slept with Lisa—and she would find out. Because I’d tell her. Then she’d see what everyone else did, and she’d stop looking at me like I was someone worth saving.

  My ma thought she could save my dad, and look where that got her.

  When I stumbled out of Lisa’s house that night, I felt hollow. I didn’t know it then, but that empty feeling would stay with me.

  13

  Connor

  The blue haze from the TV was the only light in Poppy’s living room.

  I’d watched movies with Poppy countless times, but thanks to Brandon being at Lisa’s, this was the first time it was just the two of us. And God was I nervous. I wanted to reach over and hold her hand. Maybe kiss her, but I knew better, so I settled for having her snuggled close to me on the couch while we watched Titanic.