The Genetic Code

Chapter 21

Sterling

I turned the corner of the brick West Wing building, heading to the basketball court.

But it seemed like my haven was already infested by some lowlife scumbags, and their poor victim, most likely an Invalid boy, being shoved around by the ringleader of this bigoted segregationist cult. Parker.

The spectacle-clad boy with a crumpled uniform fell to the concrete. His aggressor laughed sadistically, placing his shoe on the boy's stomach, intentionally rubbing the dirt off his shoe onto the boy's white shirt until it was smudged with it.

My mouth twitched, and I was practically shaking with rage-spiked disgust. My fists impulsively tightened even more painfully with every move Parker made while his three avid worshippers egged him on, sometimes joining in, laughing along manically at the boy's suffering like actual masochistic lunatics with serious mental illnesses.

As Parker brought his fist back, a hand caught his wrist mid-air. It took a while for me to register that it was mine.

"Pick on someone your own size, would you?" I released his fist abruptly so he was off balance and shoved him hard in the chest. Parker fell to the ground with a loud thud, followed by the cries of his distraught disciples who immediately rushed forward to help him up.

While they were distracted, I signaled subtly with my head to the Invalid boy, asking him to leave. The scrawny boy quickly crawled off the concrete and scurried off as far away as possible from the shit that was about to go down.

"This crazy basta—" Parker's friends had helped him up from the ground, and were trying to hold him back.

"You can't hit him. He's a Perfect," they reminded him quietly.

"So, Mr Perfect, what brings you down from your palace to visit the commoners?"

I rolled my eyes.

"I stay away from your royal ground and leave Perfect trash like you alone. So it pisses me off when people like you come to my turf and try to play knight."

"Why would I try to play knight?" I spoke languidly, "I was just bored, and found it amusing how scum like you sit on a high horse, thinking you're so much better than an Invalid. The way I see it, you're pretty much the same."

"Excuse me, Crawford? I guess I'm not some Perfect living in a castle my family built for me, but I am not the same as an Invalid," Parker spat with contempt. "And what about you? You think you're some hot shot just because you study in the East Wing?"

"Please, I don't give a damn about that kind of crap. I have so much more going for me than a label on my ID." I found myself getting worked up, and quickly cooled my temper down, expertly siphoning the emotion out of my voice before I spoke again with a sneer, "I just think you should at least be fair. Four bullies ganging up on one scrawny kid? That's cowardice. If you're going to fight, it should be man-to-man, without your lackeys doing all the dirty work for you."

"What, you asking for a fight, Crawford?"

I actually didn't want to fight him. Not because I had any doubts about myself emerging victorious; mostly because of the hassle, and the fact that I didn't like uselessly fighting people outside of the ring. All these kids like picking fights for some thrill and fun, but fighting had lost its charms for me a long time ago. I'm not sure exactly at what point — Maybe after my two-hundredth Pit fight? Or after I'd broken my nose for the fifth time? Or the day a particular event happened which made me walk out the doors of The Pit and never return?

"Uhh, well, maybe not today. We only have five minutes until lunch ends. I'd rather do it another day when I have more time to rearrange your ugly face." I smiled mockingly. "I'll need a lot more time than five minutes to work on that thing."