The Goon

by Sara Hubbard

  “Are you okay?” she asks me just before we walk inside.

  “Yep.” I fluff my hair and stand tall. I don’t see Jeff right away once we go in. The store is bigger on the inside than it looks on the outside, and some of the aisles are over six feet tall. Signs hang from the ceiling above aisles to indicate the sports equipment in each section. Hockey is off to the right.

  Charlie leads the charge, and I follow behind her. I try not to look for Jeff, but I can’t help it when we pass by baseball, and he’s standing alongside the one person in the world I’d rather swallow nails than see in this moment.

  “Fuck me.” I sprint forward past the aisle and look over my shoulder as Charlie watches me, bewildered.

  “Are you okay?” she asks me again.

  “Yep, come on.” I jog back, grab her arm, and pull her forward. She lets out a giggle and when I crouch and keep going, tugging her along, her giggles get louder.

  “Ssshhh.”

  “What has gotten into you?”

  “Brad’s here.”

  “Oh!”

  “Come on.” We reach the hockey aisle, and at the end, I see a counter and some machinery off to the side. The guy tips his head to the side to regard Charlie and I as we approach, still crouching.

  “Can I help you?” he asks with a hint of amusement in his tone. His silver hair shines in the florescent lighting. When he smiles, his cheeks lift, revealing faint wrinkles around his mouth and eyes.

  I stand tall. As long as Brad and Jeff don’t walk to the end of the aisle, we’re good. They had something in their hands, so they probably found what they’re looking for and will likely walk back to the front to buy it.

  No sooner do I think this do they appear at the end of the aisle. They march toward me like I’m a homing beacon. Fuck my life. I turn away and keep my back to them. Charlie scowls in their direction, giving them a wonderful stink eye that I didn’t know she had in her.

  “I’d like to get these sharpened,” I say quietly to the guy, putting my scuffed skates with the blunt edges on the counter.

  “These have certainly seen some ice time. Would you be interested in trading up? We can give you ten dollars off of a new pair if you’d like to trade these in.”

  “If they’re crap, why would you want them?” I ask, confused.

  “Well, we donate them to the less fortunate. There are some local skating organizations that give kids a chance to get involved in activities they might not be able to afford otherwise.”

  “Oh, uh…yeah, okay. But can we do this quick? I’m a size five.”

  “Sure thing. I’ll grab you a pair to try on.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  He puts the skates in a bin behind the counter along with some other used equipment, and as he’s leaving, Brad and Jeff reach us. Charlie folds her arms over her chest and stands in front of me, but off to the side a bit so part of my front is blocked. I’m a little taller than her but not by much. I can, however, see over her head. Brad’s face is pretty banged up from the fight, but Brad definitely looks worse than Michael. Both Brad’s eyes are blackened. There’s a gash on his cheek with Steri-Strips over it. His jaw and chin are black and blue with patches of yellow. Although I didn’t notice it at first, the goose egg on his temple by his hairline sticks out like a golf ball under discolored skin.

  From the look of him, he must be in pain, unless he’s on some good pain killers. I don’t feel bad for him, though. Not anymore. Laugh at me while I’m unconscious? He’s lucky I don’t kick him in the balls to make them as black and blue as his eyes.

  “Hey, Em.”

  I say nothing.

  Jeff whistles a moment. “I think I’ll just…uh…be anywhere but here.” He resumes whistling and speed walks down the aisle Charlie and I just passed through.

  Brad stares at Charlie. She’s not moving.

  I can’t decide if I want her to stay or go, but then I figure, why make the two of us suffer through this? “It’s okay, Char. I got this.”

  “Are you sure?”

  When I give her a small nod, she starts to leave but not before turning back to stop in front of Brad. “You don’t know how mad I am that I was so wrong about you.” She spins on her heel and stomps away, though every few steps she looks back at us, waiting for me to give her the word to come back and rescue me. It’s cute, but it’s almost laughable. Charlie’s a lover, not a fighter. And she barely reaches Brad pecs. Though, neither do I.

  “You’ve looked better,” I say to Brad.

  “I suppose I have.”

  The Skate Sharpener Guy comes back and holds out a pair of glistening white skates. “You’ll want to try them on.”

  “I’m sure they’re fine.”

  “I really recommend you try them.”

  “Thanks.” I take the skates and hug them to my chest, somewhat comforted by the sharp blades in my hands.

  The guy returns to his spot behind the counter, and because I don’t want him to hear my conversation with Brad, I start walking down the aisle at the back of the store with Brad at my side.

  “How’ve you been?” he asks.

  “Fine.” I quickly add, “Better than fine, actually. I heard about Valentine’s Day. Real classy move making out with a girl while I’m passed out next to you. Never saw that one coming.”

  His lips part, but no words come out. The wheels in his simple mind spin, but it looks like the gears needs a little bit of oil. I can only imagine what lies he’ll toss at me to make himself look better.

  “Don’t even try to deny it.”

  “You’re right. I wasn’t good to you.”

  “Yes, I’m right! Wait. What?”

  “I stayed away when I found out about the car you fucked up, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized I probably deserved what happened—if you’d only gotten my car instead.”

  “You did deserve it. And then some.”

  “Probably,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I know some people have been saying shit to you, and I told them to back off. If they don’t, let me know, and I’ll take care of it.”

  He’ll take care of it? Oh, no, he doesn’t. He doesn’t get to try to be the nice guy. He doesn’t get to rescue me. Not anymore. “Thanks, but I can take care of myself. And from what I heard, you were calling me names, too, so...”

  “I was a little freaked out. You went off the rails, Em. I wasn’t so sure you weren’t going to come after me with a bat, too.”

  I shrug a shoulder. “Even I have limits.”

  “I forgot how your nose crinkles when you’re mad. Stuff like that reminds me how much I miss you.”

  I cluck my tongue at him. “Give me a break. Flattery isn’t going to save you this time. You hurt me, Brad, and I’ve been going through hell since we broke up.”

  “We were getting too close, and my family wanted to meet you and you wanted me to meet yours, and then we started talking about getting married and moving in together, and I freaked out.”

  He gives me sad puppy dog eyes that I used to fall for every single time he unleashed them. Now, they irritate me. “You and your friends laughed at me. You can’t explain that away. I don’t deserve to be your joke.”

  “I’d say I was drunk, but that’s no excuse.”

  “No, it’s not. And that girl you slept with—if there was only one, because I’m damn sure now there were more—she had a boyfriend. You didn’t just wreck us. You wrecked them, too. Did you know she had a boyfriend?”

  “I’m not proud,” he says, scuffing his sneaker on the linoleum, “but I can’t take it back. Can we just go somewhere and talk sometime? Maybe I can explain some things.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “I wasn’t all bad to you, was I?”

  Charlie peeks around the corner, grimacing at Brad.

  “Whatever we were is over.”

  “I just want to talk. Tonight? Please say yes.”

  “I have plans.” I don’t need to
tell him this. It’s none of his business, but I want him to know I’m not sitting around pining for him. The way his face changes, the way his eyes narrow, gives me a sort of satisfaction I could become addicted to. I want him to suffer. Not physically. Emotionally. I want him to hurt like he made me hurt. And that desire mushrooms in front of me like a nuclear bomb has been dropped.

  “Are you seeing someone?” he asks.

  “You don’t get to ask me about my life anymore.”

  “Who is it?”

  The nerve of this guy to ask me that. Fire blossoms in my chest, heating me from my core to the tips of my fingers and toes. I want to slap him so hard right now across that handsome face of his. It’d hurt even more with his bruises and gash, but I hold firm, knowing words will hurt him worse.

  “You did this, Brad. You!”

  “Who is it?” his voice gets louder, angrier.

  “None of your business.”

  “Who?” he demands.

  I should walk away. Refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing the details of my life that no longer includes him. But I don’t. And I’m ashamed I can’t because I know a bigger person would walk away. After all he did to me, I’m still hurt. I visualize him naked with his dick in someone else and that damn satisfied smile on Chloe’s face, and something snaps inside of me.

  I stare him straight in the eye and say, “Michael Cross.”

  The expression on his stupid face is priceless.

  He can’t wait to get away from me. He storms off, punching some hockey padding along the way. Charlie appears at my side and hitches a thumb in his direction. “What was that about?”

  “I might have insinuated that I’m seeing Michael.”

  She gasps and puts her hands over her mouth. “Are you?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “You might want to let Michael know in case it gets back to him.”

  Sigh. “Think he’ll be pissed?”

  “It was harmless, right? And it’s not like he’s still with Chloe.”

  “I certainly hope not,” I snap back with more force than I intend.

  “You and me both.”

  On the way to checkout, I curve to the right and head to the baseball section. Brad and Jeff have already left, but while I’m here I decide I might as well go ahead and get that baseball bat. There are a ton of different types and sizes.

  Charlie picks one up and holds it in her closed fist. “Does it matter what kind?”

  I scan the prices and find the cheapest one. I have to buy the guy a bat, but Erikson never said it had to be the same kind, as if I’d know that anyway. This bat is a steal at $19.99. It might even be for a child. I grin wickedly, knowing that even my forced “gift” still says “fuck you.” I might even give it to him in person. I get my chance sooner rather than later when we find them still outside when we leave. They’re in the convertible, and Jeff is on the phone. Brad lays his big brown eyes on me, but he doesn’t get out. He won’t even look my way.

  I pull the baseball bat out of my bag and walk over to his side of the car.

  “What the fuck?” I hear Jeff say. “She better not fuck up my car!”

  “Em, what are you doing?” he says without rolling down the window.

  “Oh, relax. It’s a present,” I say.

  He eyes me suspiciously, and I’m sure he thinks I’m about to snap again, but I am so in control right now. I couldn’t be calmer. I thought this would be hard, but seeing them panic makes me smile on the inside. I feel powerful. They’re scared of little old me. I know there’s something wrong with that, but I can’t change how I feel.

  I gently knock on the passenger side window with the bat. He rolls it down. “This is for you,” I say. “To replace the one I broke.”

  He holds out his hand, and I lower the bat until his fingers wrap around the bulbous end. Erikson made me do this, and I thought it was stupid, but as I let go of the narrow end and he pulls the bat inside his vehicle, I feel a sense of peace. Like our book has ended and I can start a fresh one. I didn’t expect this. And I’ll never tell Erikson he was right to make me do it.

  Chapter 10

  Under the light of the lamppost near my dorm’s front doors, I sit on the cold curb with my elbows on my knees and my face in my hands. I’m waiting for Michael to finish practice. My shiny new skates sit beside me with hot pink terry covers on the blades. The clerk convinced me to buy rainbow colored laces. It adds something to them, I think. Everyone needs a pop of color.

  Since running into Brad this afternoon, I feel better than I have in weeks. But I’ve also been nervous to see Michael because I’m worried he’ll be upset I let Brad believe there’s something between us. I like our new friendship, and I’m not ready to have it end so soon. I don’t have a lot of close friends, particularly ones I connect with, and I feel like I connect with him in a way I only ever have with Charlie. There’s just something about him that makes me feel comfortable. Like my favorite pair of sweats.

  A couple of girls from the dorm talk animatedly as they approach the dorm. I smile and say hello and they smile back. Their voices quiet as they reach the dorm doors. They look back at me through the glass before heading down the hallway. I hate being talked about. I was always pretty accepted in school and in university up to this point. If people talked about me, I never knew about it. I was never bullied or left out. Charlie had that, and I tried to understand but couldn’t. Now, as people blatantly talk about me in whispers, I understand a little better. Brad said he took care of it—or would if I give him names. So much for that. Like I would contact him to sort people out who are harassing me. Brad’s saving-me days are over. Thank God.

  My phone dings, and I pull it out of my pocket.

  Michael: Running late. I’m going to be at least a half hour.

  Me: K

  I shove the phone in my pocket before grabbing my skates. I tie the ends of the laces together so I can string it over my shoulder. At first, I think I’ll go back into the dorm, but I don’t really want to be around the other girls right now. Plus, when I left my room, my roommate was playing some sort of online game and cursing and shaking her fist at the screen while she yelled at other online players through her microphone. I’d rather the quiet, so I decide to walk down to the rink. The path is well lit, and there are still a lot of people around campus.

  There is a crowd of people out front smoking at the rink. I don’t recognize any of them, so I walk past and push through the doors. The place is pretty quiet inside except for the sound of skates shredding ice. It echoes around the large open space, even in the main entry. The doors to the arena are open, and I stroll through. A few dozen people are in the stands. A couple of them I know from school; girlfriends of the players. One girl, Laura, has always seemed pretty down to earth, and she’s always been nice to me. She’s not like some of the popular kids around school. She does her own thing. When she gives me a smile and an enthusiastic wave back, I venture over so I don’t have to sit by myself. At least there are still people here who don’t treat me like a leper.

  “Mind if I sit with you?”

  “Sure,” she says. “What’re you doing here?”

  “Oh, I…” It never occurred to me I’d have to explain my presence or how it might look. Spouting off to Brad to piss him off is one thing, but I never intended to make anyone else question our relationship—or lack thereof.

  “Are you skating after?” she points to the skates.

  “Um…sort of. I’m doing this volunteer thing…” Fuck it. I don’t want to lie. “I got community service for vandalism, and I’m supposed to help teach kids to skate so Michael volunteered to teach me first.”

  Laura and her friend look at me wide-eyed. I guess they didn’t expect this much honesty. Though I have to say, I’d rather get in front of the truth than have them second-guess me later. It gives me a sense of control I don’t feel with people who’d rather talk behind my back.

  To my surprise, Laura starts laughin
g, but not in a mean way. At least, I know it’s not mean when she reaches out to touch my arm. She squeezes me lightly. “I heard about you getting arrested. I didn’t know if it was true or not.”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  She points to her friend. “Have you met Annie?”

  “No.” I reach out my hand and Annie takes it, shaking mine lightly.

  “Annie, this is Emily.”

  Annie smiles warmly. Her cherub cheeks lift so her eyes almost close. Her expression is so genuine most of the tension I carry relaxes as I settle into my seat and train my gaze to the ice.

  “Who did you say was teaching you to skate?” Laura asks.

  “Michael Cross.”

  “Goon?” She grins and so does Annie.

  “We love him,” Annie says.

  “I’m starting to think everyone does.” Except maybe Brad and any guy who plays opposite him in a game.

  “You’re single now, right? Any chance for you two?” Laura asks, nudging me.

  “I just broke up with Brad, and he and Chloe only broke up a few days ago, so I’m not sure either one of us is ready for that.”

  “Too bad. He might be a brute on the ice but, damn, he’s nice to look at.”

  She won’t get an argument from me.

  The coach blows hard on his whistle, and it rings in my ear. When I think he’s going to stop, he keeps going, all while skating up to number forty-five. He drops the whistle from his mouth so that it dangles around his neck. “What did I say!”

  The skater’s face turns beet red, and he shakes his head at the coach.

  “Don’t you shake your head at me. You’re skating like a woman!”

  “Hey,” I say.

  “He’s so mean,” Laura says. “I have no idea how he hasn’t gotten knocked out yet.”

  “He threw a garbage can at Greg Roberts the other night,” Annie adds.

  “Seriously?” Where’s his community service?

  “You’re a fucking bag of dicks. Don’t come to my practice and give fifty percent. I’ll drag that fucking other fifty out of you if I have to. I don’t care if we’re here until midnight.” He skates backward. “Say ‘thank you’ to Cole.” He points to number forty-five who spits on the ice and scowls at the coach. “Suicides!” The coach blows hard on his whistle, and the sound echoes through the arena. “Go!”