Champions of Recess
A circle formed around the two boys. Chamlong and Tim threw themselves into one another. Their limbs, like vines, entangled viciously and the circle grew smaller, intimate. They detached, spit each other out, and it became wider; inhaling, exhaling, arena breathing with every punch and kick.
â€œIâ€™m gonna snap your fuckin neck and cum in your fuckin eye!â€
â€œFuck your fucking mother!â€
â€œYellow immigrant piece of shit!â€
â€œFuck you trailer trash!â€
Jakob mumbled a prayer under his breath.
Aniele Boże StrÃ³żu mÃ³j
ty właśnie nie stÃ³j przy mnie
jak malowana Ma
ale ruszaj w te pęd
Eliot was trying to look on the bright side of things. At least theyâ€™re fighting on grass, he thought. Faces red, not bloodied, noses hurt, not broken. Bell will ring soon. Teacher will come, he muttered to himself, teacher will come, teacher will come.
â€œStop it!â€ Jamila tried to intervene. â€œStop it!â€
An angry snarl echoed through the crowd.
â€œShut up and let them fight you dirty fuckin Arab!â€ yelled Francis.
â€œYeah! Who the fuck do you think you are?â€ demanded Peter. â€œCunt!â€
She had never seen the boys this aggressive, like a pack of rabid dogs. She lost her resolve and remained quiet, sat lonely on the grass.
ładne rzeczy gdybyśmy stanęli
Jak dwa świstaki
że trzeba stąd odejść
Eliot shuddered at the scrapes, the cuts, the red trickle.
â€œFuck him up Cham! Fuck him up!â€ Chauncey encouraged.
â€œStupid boys!â€ Catherine yelled as she knelt down beside Jamila.
â€œTeacher! Teacher! Teacher!â€
Mr. Mahoney watched the tornado of boys move erratically through the field. He walked over, no hurry, and stood like a scarecrow above frantic little crows in the midday sun.
â€œAlright, thatâ€™s enough, thatâ€™ll do.â€ Mr. Mahoney crossed his arms. â€œI said thatâ€™s enough!â€
Tim glowered, discretion obscured by the primitive wild in his eyes. There was still energy in the crowd, still hatred to be settled. Chamlong didnâ€™t look up at all, he kept his focus on Tim, Tim that little shit-pile, Tim that cocky little cock, Tim that little cheat! Chamlong spit blood onto the ground.
kto z nas obejmie go za szyję
słuchaj - powie - zmieniły się czasy
teraz ja de przed światem ukryję
â€œGive up, little Timmy? Fuckin pussy like your mom.â€
A jolt of electricity shot through the crowd. Pussy like your mom, they muttered. Nobody knew what it meant exactly. It meant nothing. It meant everything.
â€œFuck him up Tim! Fuck him up!â€
Tim licked the blood on his lip, tasting, obsessively, savouring, obsessively, still craving more.
They jumped into one another recklessly. Chamlong was hit in the face, again, again, crowd moaning, Tim swinging his fists. Chamlong stumbled back, fell, eyes focused, irate. He threw himself forward, as though falling and attacking with a single motion, low to the ground, little legs kicking, sweeping, grappling their opponent down. . The rush of adrenaline as the end drew near. Strategy was abandoned, defence was abandoned, everything in pursuit of a final hit, hit, hit, each pummelling the other. Tim lunged for Chamlongâ€™s throat, squeezing tighter with every violent kick and punch, punch, punch, punch, smother his breath! strangle harder! kill his face! swing faster! The circle in ecstasy.
â€œI said thatâ€™s enough!â€
Mr. Mahoney stepped between them and untangled their furious limbs.
â€œItâ€™s over! Stop swinging or Iâ€™ll swing back you little shit-face.â€
Ms. Phillips rushed out from her classroom and took hold of Chamlong, screamed at him to sit down on the grass Cham sit down on the grass Cham sit down on the grass Cham sit down.
z świętością mają kłopot
bo chyba przeze mnie
mÃ³j StrÃ³ż Anioł ma stałe
jedno piÃ³ro ciemne.
Mr. Mahoney led Tim toward the opposite end of the field. Tim retreated, away from the heat and energy, breathing, becoming calmer, calm, wind, stop, stretching out his arms and falling into the soft, cool grass.
â€œThatâ€™s the third time this month I find you in the middle of it.â€
Tim smiled, panting.
â€œYouâ€™re happy with your little effort then?â€ Mr. Mahoney asked.
â€œDidnâ€™t break nothin.â€
â€œIâ€™m not convinced you have anything to be proud of, young man.â€
Tim liked Mr. Mahoney; he was new, not old, straightforward, still remembered how to talk to boys.
â€œClose call, sir, I give it 9-7 me, had him with the choke, donâ€™t ya think? Have to wait and see what the fellas say tomorrow. Good fight though, good fight.â€
â€œYouâ€™re mother wonâ€™t think so. I think sheâ€™s getting fed up of coming to see me.
We need to get you to walk away sometimes Tim, youâ€™ve got to walk away.â€
â€œNowhere to walk, sir, nowhere else to go. Mom canâ€™t do nothing cause popâ€™ll understand. Heâ€™ll be happy nothin broke, no doctorâ€™s bill if nothingâ€™s broke.â€
â€œOk, Tim Humphreys, up you come.â€
He reached out his arm and swung the child up from the grass. Lite as a feather, he thought.
â€œLetâ€™s get you to the bathroom,â€ said Mr. Mahoney. â€œClean you up for our date with the principal. And I guarantee he wonâ€™t be happy.â€
Across the field, Cham continued stalking, eyes focused, black, bruised body pacing back and forth, ignoring Ms. Phillipsâ€™s desperate cries. He spit blood onto her face as she moved fiercely between him and his prey. She slapped, screamed louder. â€œSit down you little wolf sit down sit down, wolf sit down sit down sit!â€
kiedy zasypiam nachyl się nade mną
odmuchaj z księżyca
zasłaniaj rękami przed złem.
â€œWhat the fuck are you mumbling about Polski? Praying for fucking sausages?â€ Peter demanded. â€œFucking faggot.â€
The others laughed.
Catherine comforted Jamala who began to sob. Her hands shaking like frightened flickers of candle-light before an open window.
â€œSit down boys sit down!â€ Ms. Phillips turned and screamed back toward the mob, â€œsit down animals sit down sit!â€
The dispersing circle of boys hollered as Mr. Mahoney and Ms. Phillips escorted the champions of recess into the building.
â€œItâ€™s nothing at all,â€ said Mr. Mahoney casually. â€œJust boys learning to dance.â€
â€œBoys indeed, David! Not at this school,â€ said Ms. Phillips. â€œIâ€™ll make sure these two little wolves get expelled for this. Next thing you know, David, theyâ€™ll be carrying knives and guns. I wonâ€™t stand for violence here, not in this day and age. I wonâ€™t allow it. Not here.â€
Eliot watched them walk away, waited anxiously for the bell to ring.
Aniele Boze, wybacz nam, Jakob mumbled as he opened his blade and slit Peterâ€™s fat fucking throat.