If Only Being Switched at Birth Was Easy

/3/ 16 Years of Adoption Led to This?

"King, stop!" Adam yelled as he ran into the ring and pulled King off of his opponent. There was blood everywhere and King had lost it. He said he would drink after, but it wasn't exactly a promise—he didn't know what that word meant—and then drank anyways in an attempt to allow any reaching point of anger convince him to beat the shit out of the other guy.

After being crowned winner and the opponent being dragged off by unlicensed doctors, King was hauled out of the stadium with the assistance of Adam and Ryan. I stood by, biting my nails and looking around.

"Hey," Jack greeted us. Of course Connor—his newly adopted best friend—was at his side. He turned to King. "Saw you get a bit homicidal in there."

"Want me to get homicidal right here?" King asked as he rocked back and forth, threatening to fall. I stayed my distance as Jack held up his hands in defense. King had a threatening look on his face as he was breathing heavily. Danny tried calming him down as much as possible.

"Holy shit," Jack commented. He was looking down at his phone. "Some punk called the ambulance for that fighter and now the police are coming."

"We gotta go. Illegal place, after curfew, and he's completely wasted," Adam said in a worried way.

"I have my car. I'll drive him to my house. Split up and get home," Danny said with some imaginary authority. And in a matter of minutes, we were planning to depart and when Ryan and Danny left supporting King, I jogged up to them as I remembered something.

"Wait," I called. They turned to me—even King, who never wanted me to be by him in a drunken state.

Without looking up at him, I reached my hand in his front pocket and grabbed the pocket knife he always carried. I flashed up to his dilated eyes and then left.

"How'd you know he had that?" Adam asked as we walked home with Jack and Connor.

"Are you kidding? He's my brother," I scoffed. I knew a lot about him that the others didn't.

"King is your brother?" Connor asked from behind. "Wow."

"Do you know how much shit we'd be in if they found that knife in the fight?" Jack asked. There was a no weapons rule. King knew that, but that wasn't why he had a knife.

"Yeah, but he's King. No one cares what he does," I shrugged. I looked to the ground and saw blue and red lights from a distant cop car or ambulance. We all dropped our heads and acted nonchalant.

We continued this routine until I had to climb into my second story window. At one o'clock in the morning on a school night, I was tired. Considering I snuck out and back in, I slept in King's room just so I wouldn't wake the other girls and boys and get told on.

***

"What the hell are you doing in my room?" a voice roared to me, waking me up.

"Oh. Yeah. I totally meant to go all the way to my room and wake up the others just to get snitched on," I replied sarcastically as I rolled out of his bed. I grabbed my backpack that was in the corner and noticed that my paperwork had all been filled out by King.

"Whatever," he growled before walking over to me and jerking my hips around before pulling his knife out of my back pocket since I slept in my clothes from yesterday. He glared down to me. "Take my shit again and see what happens."

"Whatever."

I didn't want him to have a knife or any weapon when he's drunk. I knew the possibilities—I had witnessed the possibilities.

"Go get ready for school," he commanded out of nowhere.

"Make me," I challenged. He shrugged and then bent down and threw me over his shoulder. I kicked and thrashed as he made his way across the hall to my room. He threw a shirt at me and then turned his back to me so I could change. I threw the shirt over my head and then smacked King on my way out.