Heartbreak Girl

Chapter Two: A Secret

The sound of leather against force echoed throughout the gym. Jeriah could feel the throb of his gloved hands against the sand-filled bag hanging from the ceiling. There was grunting from the ring behind him. The smell of old mats and years of sweat filled the heavy air of the boxing gym.

The only indication that someone was near was the fact that the bag stopped swinging and stood firm. Jeriah stopped, panting hard as he rounded the bag to see her boxing coach.

Coach stepped away from the bag and stood, feet apart and hands on his hips. "How ya doing, son? You seem off your game today."

Jeriah gave him a dry laugh as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "She said the same thing."

Coach didn't have to ask to know who he meant. It was always Shaye. Always. "She still doesn't know you fight?"

Jeriah shook his head and sat on the metal bench, ignoring the electric shock it gave him when his skin touched it. "No, she doesn't. I don't know what she would do if she found out."

"Or about the fact that you fight underground now?" Coach asked. Jeriah clenched his jaw and took a swig out of his water bottle. "You can still back out now if you want. Just say the word-"

"I'm doing it," Jeriah spat. "What happened in the few weeks since you told me I could win an underground? Where did that confidence in me go?"

Coach shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. "It hasn't gone anywhere. I just... I just don't feel right putting a kid with promise into the underground."

Jeriah stood and made his way toward the locker room. He had been there for hours, trying to train up before his first fight in two weeks. The night of the homecoming bonfire. "Don't worry about it, I'm the one who signed up for this. This has nothing to do with you, except for the fact that you're giving me a way in."

Coach sighed, "you're signing away your life, kid." That's the intent.

Since he discovered the gym when he was sixteen, Jeriah had been in love with the idea of defending himself and those he cared about. The idea of protecting someone from someone else who was bigger, meaner, and viler than the other. Jeriah knew he would become another brute walking the street, but at least he could make a difference however small it may be. How far he had come to take a fall into the illegal underground.

Pausing only a moment to think through his life choices, he pushed the dirt-smeared door open. Setting down his bottle and grabbing his shorts and towel before heading to the showers.

Washing all the sweat and dirt off of him felt like a relief. It always felt good to be clean. Especially after a heavy work out. It felt as though all his faults and negative emotions were washed away with a sprinkling of water and a slather of soap. All of his problems, all his doubts down the drain. Nothing was there, nothing.

He shut off the lukewarm water and toweled himself off. Slipping on his basketball shorts, he continued to dry off his hair as he walked toward his locker. It was his locker, even had his name on it. Paid for it with his own money and sweat. His parents didn't need to know, he paid with his own money, along with the fact that they would disapprove of fighting in general.

Pulling his t-shirt over his head, he slipped on his almost white Adidas and walked out of the locker room still stuffing his things into his school bag. More people had left by the time he had come out of the empty showers.

Slinging his bag onto his shoulder, he walked toward the exit of the gym, saying his goodnights to the owner and the coach, he made his way toward the train.

Pulling out Les Miserables again, he waited for the last train to come. Knowing it would come like it always did, it didn't make him any less nervous that he would be too late one time and his parents would have to pick him up. For them to ask questions would mean revealing the truth about what he had been doing for years after school. That it wasn't football that was getting him ripped. It was the fact that he dedicatedly worked out three times a week no matter what conditions there were.

The squealing of breaks broke him of his zoning mind again. He forced himself to stay awake by standing on the nearly empty train. It was his new trick and it seemed to be working well. Sitting only led to being left on the train until dawn when they started back up again. Shaking himself out of his daze again, he opened his book again.

By the time the train had stopped at his station, Jeriah had tucked his book away and pulled everything together so it wouldn't fall apart. Climbing out of the station, he called a cab rolling past him and slid into the backseat. Telling the driver where to go, he leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes.

"Hey, kid." A voice said sharply. Jolting awake and raising his fists to defend, the cabbie scoffed. "Look, kid, I just wanna go home and sleep next to my wife. Pay up and get out. Actually, at this point, I don't even care if you pay. Just get out."

Taking a quick breath as to not attack the driver, Jeriah collected his bag and slammed the door behind him. Next time, he was taking his car. Parking fee be damned.

Throwing his backpack on his bedroom floor, Jeriah collapsed against the bed. Too tired to put on pajamas and throw the sheets over his aching body, he promptly fell asleep in his soft memory foam bed.