7. I Liked being Hurricaned
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I Liked Being Hurricaned
• • •
In the sea of thousands movies, White House Down seemed to be the only good one. So I grabbed it. I could watch it a hundred times more. Jamie Foxx nailed it. On the way back to the counter, I grabbed another one more. Hacksaw Ridge. Looks good enough, I thought.
Scott had one in his hand.
“What you got?” I gestured to his hand with my chin.
We left the store and walked down the almost isolated street to get to where we parked out cars.
“What’s that?” Scott asked, frowning at the dark parking lot ahead.
“Fuck,” I swore and raced ahead. “Hey!!” I shouted and they turned to us.
Matt was on his knees and hands, coughing and spitting. Damien was there. That fucker. My temper boiled. I went in straight, charging, not even caring to count if we were outnumbered or if we were charging for our death. I jumped in, breaking both cassettes over the head of the first one I reached. I began knocking down everyone in my way. Scott was just as mad as I was. His alter ego was let loose.
It was wrong in their part to corner a lone person, when there was no appointment and especially when one was not feeling well. Matt was sick and they took advantage. It was crime against the street rules.
I grabbed anybody that wasn’t Scott and thrashed the shit out of them. A tight fist landed on my chin, the best blow so far. I looked back and it was like ′we meet again, my old foe’. I went for him. But it was like I wasn’t seeing him clear enough. I was almost blinded by my rage. Matt was sick. That was the only thing that was in my mind and it made me more furious.
You see, when my temper and rage gets the beat of me, I behave as if I’m possessed or something. If it was an appointment, I would be able to fight in perfect sense but when it’s my rage that’s steeling me, it’s like my anger kicks Xavier out of the body.
We acknowledge each other with some blows and kicks for the first few seconds but soon I managed to pushed him against the side of a car and fucked his face with my fist until my knuckles got bruised. Some of them came to pull me back but Scott took care of them. I looked back to see if he was alright and it wasn’t Scott, it was Matt. He didn’t look so good. There was blood on his face, mostly around his nose.
“What the fuck are you doing, man?! Get inside the car!!” I shouted at him.
He nodded and kicked one down. It was not like he would obey me; go sit inside the car and watch the game unfold.
No bro runs from a bro situation.
When some people started to get back to their cars, Damien and his group left because we couldn’t risk going to prison. We were all breathing heavily and Matt was bending over with his hands on his knees, spitting out blood. His nose was broken before Scott and I came to the scene. It seemed Damien played his game while his dogs held Matt back. But Matt wouldn’t tell us. Yet I knew somehow and I decided I wasn’t done with Damien yet. I was not one to leave without a payback.
“Let’s go to the hospital,” I said, opened the driver’s door and got in.
Matt settled in beside me. I took out the box of tissues from the glove compartment and handed it to him. Scott was in his own car. We drove to St. Stephen’s. A new doctor put cast on Matt’s nose.
“Got into trouble, huh?” The doctor said particularly to no one as he did his job.
I was sitting on a nearby chair. Since Matt couldn’t speak, I volunteered for the casual decency.
“Something like that,” I replied.
He glanced at me, smirking, “We don’t get fed up, do we? The rush of adrenaline and the glory of a punch.”
Dude was a badass! Coolest doctor in St. Stephen’s.
All the other doctors I’d met here had always been against street fighting. They stare at us like we belong in prison but this dude was cool. His son must be so proud of him, I thought.
“Been a badass?”
“Well, we all have our days, son. I did live up to mine,” he answered, keeping his eyes fixed on Matt’s nose.
I grinned. I knew I liked this guy that very instant. Matt raised a thumb to him in appreciation.
He chuckled back, “But be careful and don’t get carried away.”
Scott drove straight back home after we left the hospital. Matt and I climbed up the pipe and scrambled in through the window to his room. Taking the main door meant meeting his mom, my dad’s younger sister. Meeting her meant, double trouble. She wasn’t just going to let the cast on his nose slip away like nothing happened.
Of course, there was always tomorrow but for that night, we just wanted to slip. I had no idea why I was still there, taking the risk of meeting a female that could call upon a hurricane any time. It had become a habit, being in Matt’s room every evening.
He got in first. I followed.
“Fuck,” I muttered and grunted as I scrambled in, “Do I have to say this again? Kick open this freaking window. I can’t even fit in.”
Matt’s window was equivalent to a rabbit hole. Thanks to his 6.2 and my 6.4 height, it had always been harder for me to get in through that. I went over and plopped down on the single seated couch in front of his TV, looking up to heaven blocked out of view by the white ceiling and breathing deeply.
“You up for a battle?” I suggested.
“Prepare to die,” he replied and I smirked.
Matt was always ever ready for video games. So was I. And Call of Duty it was. I went over, turned on the TV and grabbed a controller. He did too.
He plopped down on another couch, eyes focused on the screen, definitely ready for the legit battle. A buzz reverberated from his pocket.
He glanced at me once before he pulled it out of his pocket. I stared back. Everything became quiet. We knew who it was; The Hurricane.
“I’m already asleep,” Matt replied.
He was quiet for a moment.
“No. Me and the boys had dinner together.”
“Xavi? Xavi’s home. He’s not in my room. I’m already sleeping.”
“The main door was locked so we . . .” He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth. I began to snicker.
“We’re going to prison,” Matt muttered to me and we, in the very next second, bolted from our seats, fixed our postures and faced the door, hoping for the best but expecting the worst.
Matt’s door flew open and in came the female alpha (Arquette blood), swirling like a hurricane.
She stopped short after few powerful strides and gasped loudly and then she shouted, “Matthew James McGuire!!”
We stood silent like good boys.
“Hey, mom,” Matt answered.
“I can see you’re asleep.”
I looked away and snorted a laugh.
“For the love of God!!” She threw her hands up, seeing the cast on his nose, “When will the two of you ever learn! Stay away from the streets before I write your death sentences.”
We nodded, just like every other night. She sighed, came closer and checked him out, holding his chin and inspected his nose.
“God. Matthew. Why don’t you grow a brain? Look at you!”
“Mom, I’m fine,” Matt moved away from her.
“And you too,” she turned to me.
It was my turn. I bit my bottom lip, preparing to endure the chastising. She glared back dead in the eye. Grabbing my chin, she made me turn left and right.
“Hmm . . . At least, you look better than your cousin. You’re grounded. Both of you.”
“Phone.” She showed us her palms, right below our nose.
Matt and I glanced at each other.
“Really, mom? We’re seventeen,” Matt mumbled.
“And grounded,” she spelled it more clearly for us.
We bit our tongue and surrendered our phones. There was no escape from this woman.
“And the spare?” She raised an eyebrow at Matt.
I snorted another laugh. This dude was at the end of his tricks.
Matt frowned, acting innocent, “What spare?”
“The spare phone that you use when you’re grounded, Matthew?!”
“How’d you even know I have one?”
She rolled her eyes, “Ask your sister.”
“Just hand over the phone.”
Matt groaned, went over to his study table, opened the first drawer and fished out another iPhone, the same model with his regular phone.
Claiming Matt’s precious stuff, she looked at me and said, “I’m sure you have one too.”
Sighing at the two of us, she shook her head and said, “Get serious, the two of you. We don’t cheer for fighters anymore like people did in the BCs. It’s already so late and you come back in casts and cuts. How is that suppose to make me feel better?”
Matt was quiet. I was too. We just hoped she would leave soon and not prolong the lecture. But seriously, I’m surprise how nothing really got to into our heads. We just keep getting into trouble.
She sighed again, “Get some sleep. Don’t stay up too late. Xavi, sleep in the your room. No late night driving. I’ll call up Claire.”
I nodded, “Okay.”
And she turned to leave. Matt and I took a deep breath each. From the door, we heard a giggle. Aunt Diane, opened the door wider and revealed the eavesdropping Violet, Matt’s seven year old sister.
“Violet! Time to sleep!” Her mom chided.
“Via,” Matt growled, irritated at the failure of his plan B due to her highly classified sneak-around ability.
She simply giggled at her brother and raced off towards her room. I bolted out from the room and followed her. She was expecting this. Laughing in a more high pitched tone and holding her favorite stuff doll (a minion), Prince Eric, under her arm, she ran towards her room in her pink pajamas. I caught her and hauled her up high on my shoulder. She shrieked and laughed more.
“Xavi, please put her to bed,” her mother sighed from Matt’s door.
“Sure!” I replied.
“Someone’s been sneaking around late at night, huh? How’d you know Matt has a spare phone?” I chuckled at Vai.
“I saw him using it once.”
I walked into her very stylish and princess-like room and set her down on her feet o her royal bed. She then, instantly slipped under the covers herself.
“Did you and Matt get into fight again?” She asked.
“Well, we were fighting some bad guys so I guess that’s cool?” I said as I tucked the covers around her.
She hesitated and answered, “I don’t know. Matt’s face look bad. I don’t like it.”
I smiled to her. “Don’t worry. He’s fine. Goodnight, Princess,” I pinched her cheek.
She smiled back. “Goodnight, Xavi.”
She liked it when I call her Princess. That was why she was always my team. Anything royalty was like cheese for her. Except Matt’s address, Queen Elizabeth X. It’s funny, she could catch the sarcasm. Vai only ever dreamed of becoming the Queen of England and surprisingly, she could even speak almost fluently in the accent, and that is minus the exaggerations.
I turned off her light and went back to Matt’s room.
“How did she even know I have a spare phone?” Matt turned to me from the couch he was sitting on.
I chuckled and sat down on the other one. “Trust me. Vai’s ten times smarter than you.”
“She’s just like mom. Seriously,” Matt muttered as he retrieved the game controller from the back of the couch, “I’m sure, there’s a lot more of Arquette blood flowing in that girl’s veins than there are McGuire blood.”
“Oh yeah. No wonder she’s ten times smarter than you,” I replied casually as I stared at the screen.
He rolled his eyes.
We battled in Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare and drove each other off in Top Speed 2 for about two hours before I went to my room to sleep. I used to sleep over at their house frequently so I even had some of my stuffs and clothes over there and the guest room basically became my room. It was actually my room before I moved out of their house to live with Grammy and Claire. This was my second home.
I changed and threw myself onto the white linen covered bed in boxers and took a deep breath of relief, getting ready to sleep. I had a smile on my face as I stared up at the ceiling.
I knew why I liked it there. I knew why I took the risk of meeting the hurricane. It was because I liked the hurricane and being hurricaned.
Since I grew up without my parents and I never got any parental scoldings, I liked it when aunt Diane and uncle James scold us for getting into trouble. They made me feel like I actually had parents. Of course, I had Grammy and Claire too, who were constantly worried about my well-being but that was different. They were my Grandma and sister. But if I had to look for parents, I had always looked at Matt’s parents as my own.
They helped me get back on my feet when I needed . . . parents. Since then, they had been my backbone, my cornerstone, my parents.
Now. To not give you the wrong idea. I’m not an orphan. Neither are my parents dead. I just don’t live with them.
Adjusting my pillow, I stared up at the ceiling and a wide grin broke on my face as I remembered Mongrel. I chuckled to myself thinking about her and all her expressions.
Ever since she’d returned to town, I’d been thinking ’bout her every night before I sleep. There was something so challenging and catchy ’bout her. Not every boy in this planet will see the difference in her. Even I couldn’t quite point it out but I could feel it. And it was good.
I rolled onto my front with a huge grin, pulling up pillows from anywhere with both hands.
Man, I’m so whipped.