when jesse walked in the door, his ma shook her head but she was smiling as she got up to look for the first aid kit.
“i’m fine, ma,” he called after her, looking at his brothers. jez was kicking his chair, an annoying habit he’d picked up from somewhere, and jules had actually put down his book. “there was a first day of school fight,” he teased, taking his own seat. of course, they knew that already. as if his torn shirt and the cut in his eyebrow he was hoping would scar didn't already prove that.
dad – henry had drilled him on fighting at the beginning of the summer, telling him it meant more if he stuck to fists alone. he’d probably already been fucking his east slut by then, trying to make jesse go easy on them, because he was pussy-whipped.
“did you kill any east kids?” jez asks, eager, and it almost sounds kinda weird in a little kid voice, but it’s way better than him being all quiet like he had for a while.
“nah,” jesse smirks, taking out his phone. “but i heard i made this one blind in one eye.” he’d done more than just the one guy, but this was probably the most impressive. he slides the phone across the table to jules, watching his eyes widen as jez grabs for the phone, their heads bent over it. sure, they’re kids, but it’s not like this is somebody. this is just an east kid who said the wrong fucking thing to him.
“what did you do to him?” jules asks, and this is good for him. he’s two years out from this – if he gets ready now, nobody will see him coming.
“nothing he didn’t deserve,” he starts, looking at their impatient faces. “i’d already picked off a bunch like him, but he comes in running his mouth, you know? asked me if i wanted to know how my daddy was doing,” he scoffs, shaking his head. jez’s eyes are wide, but jules’ have gone narrow, and he doesn’t know which is better. “and you guys know, you gotta fight with whatever you can find, so i picked up one of the chairs and just smashed it in his face, and he went right down. some of the guys held his guys back, cause he was crawling, you know, trying to get up? so i kicked him in the ribs, here and here,” he points to his side, “and that put him down pretty good, but pretty good isn’t good enough for what he said.”
he can see their mom out the corner of his eye, and she’s leaning on the door, but she doesn’t look like she wants to stop him. mostly, she just looks proud, and he straightens up.
“i kicked him in the face. stomped on him, i guess,” and you can see the bloody footprint in the picture he got, which is why he took it. “definitely broke his ribs and his nose, and i heard after last period he was saying he couldn’t see, but that’s what he fucking deserves.”
“jesse,” ma says, nodding her head towards jez, who looks like he’s memorizing every word.
“ma, i’m telling them about me destroying this asshole, i gotta swear,” he protests, and it’s not like it’s bothering either of them. jez is grinning, his legs still, and jules is quiet, but he’s smirking. the phone rings, probably someone calling to tell him he did good. “jules?”
“were you wearing boots, or those?” he asks, looking at the shoes jesse probably won’t be able to wear again. “how’d you do that to his face?”
“i crouched, kinda, and balanced on my left foot when i stomped him,” he explains, “he was already fucked up from everything else, so i didn’t need boots.” maybe he’ll find out where that guy lives and drop his shoes off, make sure he knows not to fuck with him again.
there’s a strange look on ma’s face when she comes back in, the phone left in the other room. “jess?”
“that was kimberly,” he looks at her blankly. “one of our moles, keep up. that boy you fought today – he died. brain bleed.” she’s looking at him, almost expectantly, but also sort of not, and he can’t figure out why she’s looking at him like that. he turns to his brothers, taking the phone back from them.
“does that mean i have to delete this?” jesse asks, because this picture is going to be awesome at school tomorrow.
