Young Life

Injury

I can't believe Mark got in trouble. It's all my fault. God, if I'd been able to stand up for myself then-

"Don't do that." I turn to look at Mat, who's calmly eating his lunch.

"What?" He looks up at me.

"Don't do that."

"Don't do what?" He turns in his seat to fully face me and he gently takes my hands in his.

"Don't blame yourself. I know that look in your eyes. You're blaming yourself and you need to stop. Mark chose to risk injury to help you."

"But if-"

"But what? If you defended yourself, you could've gotten seriously hurt. Mark's trained to handle this, we would've been fine. You've been through too much. You may not like it, but you're a little fragile, but that's to be expected after what you went through." I sit in silence, taking in what Mat said, but my brain focusing on a particular sentence.

"Wait, what do you mean "Mark's trained to handle this?" What does that mean"

"Mark's a boxer. Been one since he was little. He's the boxing coach's assistant at the gym downtown, and once he's old enough, he'll take over and become the boxing coach." My eyes widen. Mark? A boxing coach? That's news to me. Then it clicks.

"I guess that's where he used to go." Mat looks at me confused. "In the morning, he used to go running, but later in the day, he'd say his knuckles were sore." Mat nods in understanding.

The bell rings, signaling time to head to class. Mat and I stand up and dump our trash in the trash, duh, and separate to head to our next classes. I give Mat a quick peck on the forehead, then walk away from each other.

><><Time Skip><><

I walk up to the car and see Mat and Jack already waiting.

"Hey, Jack, you riding home with us?" He nods. Mat unlocks the car and gets in the driver's seat, I get in the shotgun seat, and Jack gets in the back. Mat starts the car and starts the drive home.

"Hey, Jack, how did Mark look after the fight?"

"Well, his nose looked a little crooked, so I don't know if it was broken or just dislocated. His fists also looked pretty bloodied and bruised." I could hear his voice crack a little at the end.

"I'm sure he's fine. He's Mark. He'll be good in no time." Mat pulls into the driveway and cuts the engine. We all get out and Jack starts walking over to his house, then turns around.

"Do you guys want to see him?" Mat and I look at each other and shrug. We turn back to Jack.

"Yeah." We follow him two houses down and we notice the two cars in the garage along with the Subaru in the driveway.

"Uh oh. I hope the video helped him get out of trouble."

"Let's hope." Jack unlocks the door and we all walk in.

"Mary, Frank, I'm home!" He calls out. Mark's parents are sitting at the peninsula in the kitchen. We all walk over and sit in the remaining seats.

"How's Mark?" I ask.

"He's fine. Had a broken and dislocated nose, and slightly bruised knuckles. Thankfully he's a boxer, or his hands would've been worse."

"You know, he never told me he was a boxer. Even while we were dating." We all look at the man passed out on the couch with his beloved dog, Buddi, asleep on the floor beside him.

"I actually don't know why he didn't tell you. He's very proud at how far he's come over the years."

"No doubt. From what we saw at school, I'd say he's pretty good." Mark's mom turns to look at me.

"Speaking of that, how are you, Nate?"

"I'm fine. Throat's a little sore, but I'm fine." She picks up her phone.

"Your neck disagrees," his dad adds. Mark's mom hands me her phone and the camera app is open. I position the camera so I can see my throat, and what I see startles me a little.

There's a light bruise forming a ring around my throat.

"That looks like it hurts."