Bloody Knuckles • Gallavich

Opportunities

Mickey wiped the sweat off of his forehead onto his arm. It was around five o'clock now and boxing had just ended for the day. Ian and Mickey both had sweated enough to fill both of their Gatorade bottles for the next week. Even with the painful tiring workout that they had today, Mickey would rather work out for another three hours than go home.

"Milkovich, can you come here for a moment." Mickey glances up from his spot on the bench. It was the same trainer as the day before. Mickey was surprised the man even remembered him.

He nods and stands up, walking over to him. "Yeah, what's up?"

"I was really impressed with your fighting yesterday. You're a tough kid with a strong punch. Where'd you learn how to fight?" He asks.

Mickey shrugs. "The streets I guess. Gotta do what you gotta do to survive."

The man nods. "You're southside, huh?" Mickey nods. "Well, I've got some connections to some local colleges around Chicago and Illinois. I'd love to see you behind a football helmet or on a wrestling mat. I think you can do some serious damage. If you're ever interested let me know. I'm here often. My name's Coach Meyers."

Mickey chuckles a bit and nods. "Yeah, right. I may be tough but my grades are shit. Thanks for the offer though," he mutters before walking off. He pushes the doors to the gym open and leans against the bricks. He closes his eyes and leans his head back. Mickey was tired of living off of scraps of food and awaiting Terry's next besting. He wanted a ticket out of the southside on the next train out. And college was that ticket. But Mickey knew in his heart he didn't belong there. He belonged on the southside and was nothing more than southside trash. He'd either die on the streets fighting or locked behind bars before he turned twenty-one. College just seemed like a foreign place that he would never belong too.

"Hey." Mickey snaps his head over and sees Ian standing next to him. By now everyone was making their way onto the bus that would take them back to the school. "You forgot your bag inside," Ian says, handing his bag over.

"Thanks," Mickey mumbles. He slings it over his shoulder before climbing the steps to the bus, Ian following.

"So I saw that trainer talking to you. What did he want?" Ian asks. They take their usual seat in the back, Mickey against the window like always.

He shrugs. "Nothing."

Ian frowns. "I doubt that. I remember that guy wanted to see you fight yesterday did he like what he saw?" He grins.

"Guess so. Said he had connections to colleges around here and shit, but it doesn't mean anything. Not like I could go anyways."

"What? Why not?" Ian asks, wide-eyed. "Mickey I've seen what you can do with math. So that means you've gotta be pretty decent at science too and my guess is that you could be good at English if you tried. Mick if you got your grades up, you could get a scholarship or something. We could even go to the same college together."

Mickey scoffs and looks over at him. "You're outta your damn mind if you think I even have a chance of getting into a college. I've already got a record, my grades are shit and I wouldn't have the money to get in."

"Mickey college is a big deal. If you really try you could-"

"Drop it, Ian," Mickey says, shooting him a glare.

Ian sighs and nods. "Fine," he mumbles. "But you're wasting a good opportunity. You can get outta here you know? You deserve to get out of the southside."

The walk back to Mickey's was quiet. Ian walked next to Mickey while the older boy smoked a cigarette in silence. "Don't think anyone's home right now," Mickey mumbles as he pushes the door open. As he thought, the house was silent. He figured his siblings were at friends' houses and Terry at the bar. "Wanna head to my room?" Mickey grins.