Chapter Text
JJ sat low in the hard plastic chair, arms crossed tight. His face hurt and his mouth tasted like pennies. One knee bounced under the table. It always made dad mad, but he couldn't stop. He counted the screws holding the table leg on. One, two, three. Four if you counted the half-broken one.
He sneaked a look at his dad, who sat slouched next to him, shirt streaked with grease, sweat darkening the collar. Not a word since walking in. Never even looked at JJ, which was, like, bad… but also JJ was kind of thankful for. Now he just stared straight ahead, like he’d rather be anywhere else.
“Mr. Maybank. Thanks for coming in,” Mr. Ferris, the school counselor said, sitting behind a desk piled with folders.
“Would’ve come sooner if I knew y’all were gonna start billin’ me rent.”
The counselor didn’t even smile. He set his pen down slow, lining it up neat on the desk, like he was buying himself a second. Dad had called him a stuck-up piece of shit when he was called here last month. But JJ didn't want to think about that. Ever.
The folder on the desk flipped open. “JJ got into it with am older student today. Punched him in the cafeteria. We talked to a few kids who saw.”
“Yeah?” Luke said dryly. “What, first kid to ever throw a punch in this place?”
The counselor looked up. “We don’t allow physical fights, Mr. Maybank.” His voice stayed even. “When a teacher stepped in, JJ elbowed her. She fell into a table.”
“You hit a damn teacher?” Dad’s head snapped toward him and JJ flinched so hard the chair squeaked.
“Shit, J…”
“I didn’t mean to! She grabbed me—”
He sat forward, words tumbling over each other. “I was just tryin’ to get loose. I wasn’t tryin’ to shove her like that, I just… I panicked. I thought— I didn’t even know it was her at first…”
There was movement in dad's chair. JJ caught it from the corner of his eye and shut his mouth fast. His knee kept bouncing, louder now. Then a hand came down – heavy enough it pinned his whole leg. The knee stopped. Felt like JJ’s heart almost did, too.
“Christ,” Dad muttered, almost to himself. “Every damn time.”
Ferris’s hand froze on the folder for half a second, then he went on like he hadn’t seen a thing. “Some kids reported, the other boy said… some unacceptable things. We’re handling that separately.” His voice was a little more careful now.
“Bet you are.” Luke scoffed. “Let a Kook run his mouth, no one blinks. Kid from the Cut throws a punch and suddenly it’s a damn emergency.”
The counselor pretended he didn't hear that either, and glanced down at the file again. “JJ’s response went too far. This is the third time we’ve had to call you in this year.”
“Startin’ to feel like home,” his dad smirked.
“This is not a joke, Mr. Maybank.” Mr. Ferris said, sharper now, “If it happens again, we’ll have to call a parent meeting with the principal. Might even go up to the school board."
JJs eyes were fixed on the one chipped tile beneath his left foot, but he could feel the eyes on him.
“You’re lucky Officer Stevens didn’t write this up. “Ferris leaned back a little “They’re real jumpy about fights lately.”
“Alright. Got it. So what happens now?” dad scratched his beard, looking already bored.
“Two days, in-school suspension,” He’ll be back in class Tuesday.”
“Figures.” Luke gave a slow nod, already standing up like he was done here.
The counselor leaned forward a little. “JJ?” His voice was gentler. “Anything you want to say?”
JJ glanced toward his dad, throat dry. He wasn't sure if he should answer at all. “He… said stuff about Pope. Real bad stuff.”
“I know.” Ferris nodded. “We’re handling that. But you still can’t lose your temper like that. Okay?”
“He knows,” Luke cut in before JJ could get another word in.
“We want to support you,” the counselor said, slow, like they might not get it. “But something’s gotta change at home too.”
“Yeah,” Dad's voice was easy and mean at once. “We’ll have a little talk.”
The words made JJ go stiff. He knew too well what that meant. And yeah, he brought it on himself, but that didn't make him feel any better at all.
He felt Ferris’s eyes on him again, like he wanted to say something. His mouth pressed into a thin line, then he looked back at Dad. In the end, he didn’t say a thing, just gave a small nod, like something sat stuck on the edge of his tongue.
“Thats all. JJ, you’ll need to check in with Mrs. Darnell when you come back,” he tapped the file shut. “She’ll get you caught up on any missed work.”
JJ hurried after dad, legs stiff. Didn't look back or say goodbye to Mr. Ferris at all. He was a stuck up piece of shit anyway.
The sun was sharp and too bright when they stepped outside. JJ kept behind his dad by half a step. His hands stayed buried in his pockets, knuckles scraped and still raw.
At the truck, Luke lit a cigarette and leaned against the side like it was just any Thursday. One of the truck mirrors was cracked, right across the middle, like a spider web. JJ slowed to a stop a few feet away, gravel crunching under his shoes. Close enough to hear, far enough to not be in the way.
It was quiet at first – his dad just stood there and smoked. The silence dragged out, heavier than anything.
“You started it, huh?” he asked finally.
A quick nod, without looking up.
“You win?”
JJ swallowed. “No, sir.”
“Didn’t think so.” he gestured toward JJs face.“Kid got you good, huh? That eye’s about done for.” An exhale – long and slow and not angry. But that was still a bad kind of tone. There was a pebble right next to JJs left boot and he kept staring at it.
“You don't know how to swing," dad said, like it was just a fact. "That's why you keep gettin' dropped."
“He was bigger, eighth grade. I…I tried.”
“Tryin’ don’t mean shit when you end up flat on your back.”
JJs face went hot like he was about to cry. “He was sayin’ shit about Pope,” he blurted out, “I just…wanted to make him stop.”
“Yeah, I know.”
There was a pause. The cigarette butt flew to the ground and JJ took a small step back without meaning to. His dad’s eyes stayed on the gravel where the cigarette burned down.
“You shut him up, didn’t you? For your friend,” he said eventually. “That matters.”
Then came the rest, like he’d just remembered. “But if you’re gonna fight, gotta do it right.”
JJ risked a glance up, just for a second.
“Keep your chin tucked. Elbow, not fist if you’re close. Swing to shut it down.” His boot flicked against the tire. “And for fuck’s sake, if you’re gonna scrap, don’t get caught doin’ it. I ain’t bailin’ your ass out.”
Dad gave him a tired once-over, like he wasn’t sure what to do with him.
“Let’s go.”
When the door opened, JJ climbed in fast and sat stiff. The seatbelt didn’t work, but he clicked it anyway, just to have something to do with his hands. There was a half-empty beer in the cup holder. Probably not the first. His dad took a sip, then looked over at him.
“It’s still cold,” he held it out. “For your eye.”
The beer inside shifted as he pressed it to his face, cold stinging the cut on his lip. They didn’t speak again. Sun kept cutting through the window in streaks as they pulled away from the school, but JJ wasn’t really seeing it.
By the time the truck rumbled to a stop in front of the house, JJs face throbbed worse. His mouth was dry – hadn’t had water since breakfast, if you could call a Snickers bar breakfast. The beer was still cool against his skin and that helped a little. Dad reached over and took it back without looking. He drank, slow, like he wasn’t in a rush to go inside.
“You gotta learn how to fight,” He said finally. Then drained the rest, crushed the can in one hand and climbed out of the truck.
“With that mouth on you,” he muttered, “you’re gonna piss off the wrong son of a bitch one day… and they’ll shut it for ya.
The door slammed shut behind him. “Backyard.”
JJ opened the door and followed, watching Luke’s steps, trying to guess. Mad steps? Tired ones? The kind that meant yelling, or… the belt?
Couldn’t tell. Should’ve kept his mouth shut. Let Sam talk. Just taken it. Stupid. So stupid.1
They didn’t go through the house. Just around – past the caved-in grill, the hose with a knot halfway down it, and the lawn chair that had one leg sunk all the way into the dirt. The air buzzed with bugs.
He was in trouble, no question. Why’d he swing? Why didn’t he just think for one second? Should’ve stopped when Ms. Miller came. She’d grabbed him – he didn’t mean to shove her – he didn’t even see her…
God.
His hands were too hot. Couldn’t tell if he was shaking or just walking weird.
He was so gonna get it now.
Dad stopped in the middle of the yard and lit a cigarette, then pointed at the patch of bare dirt.
“Stand there.”
JJ stepped where he was told.
“You ain’t lettin’ some damn Kook drop you again. You hear me?”
JJ dropped his eyes. “It wasn’t—”
A sharp smack to the back of his head cut him off, knocked him a step forward. Dumbass. Should’ve shut up. He lifted his eyes, wary, but Dad still didn’t look mad.
“Don’t wanna hear it.” A boot nudged his foot, shifting his stance. “We just gotta fix it.”
A cloud of smoke hit JJ. “Fucker runs his mouth, you plant him. That’s how they learn.” Dad stepped back. “Go on. Show me what you got.”
JJ swung, wide and wrong.
“That it? Come on, you can do better than that.” Luke snorted. He stepped close and yanked JJ’s shoulder back, then pushed his chin down with two fingers. “Kooks’ll eat you alive if you fight like that. Again.”
Next one felt clunky, his arm aching all the way. A knee knocked into the back of his leg. "Loosen up.”
It was real weird, ’cause JJ had messed up pretty bad at school, and couldn't swing for shit now, and dad still wasn’t yelling. Wasn’t even mad or anything.
On the next try, JJ’s shoulder popped wrong, and he let out a small sound that made Dad roll his eyes. “Don’t start now. Gotta learn.”
He swallowed the rest of it just as a hand smacked his hip. “Whole body’s gotta move, J. Not just your arm.”
The next swing came off awkward — off balance, too wide. Dad caught his wrist mid-motion and twisted a little until it lined up right. JJ sucked in a breath but kept quiet.
“That’s it,” Luke stepped back. “Now do it again.”
Nod. Reset. Swing.
Then again. And again. And again.
After a while, the sun made his head ache and his mouth gummy, like he couldn’t even swallow right. Sweat soaked into his shirt. His fists didn’t feel like fists anymore, more like blocks of wood.
Dad paced around, eyes on him like he was measuring something important. Bumped his knee with a boot when his footing slipped, thumped his shoulder when it dipped. It stung, but not the kind that meant trouble. It felt like when he fixed JJ’s busted bike chain. He didn’t say much then, just kept poking at things till it worked again. Same thing now. Only this time, JJ was the busted part.
“Trust your footing. You’re thinkin’ too much.”
“Don’t lean, J. Stand tall.”
“Faster.“
Every now and then, his dad said “Good one. ” or “There you go.” like he meant it. The words stuck in JJs chest. He didn’t smile, but it sat there anyway.
A good swing landed, and dad's face lit up. “There you go, kid. That’s more like it.
The grin came before he could stop it. His chest felt warm, but not really from the sun. Like, for once, he was getting it right. A hand steadied his elbow, almost gently this time. “That’s it. Don’t forget it.”
JJ swung again.
After a while, he couldn’t even keep count. His legs felt weird, like they didn’t belong to him, and the ground kept swaying under his feet. His eyes stung bad, like he was gonna cry. He blinked fast and swallowed it down – he wasn’t a damn baby.
No idea how long it’d been. He’d almost said that he was thirsty and that his arms hurt. That he needed a break, please, Dad, just one second. But then his dad said, “Lookin’ good, J,” and JJ kept quiet. Didn’t wanna mess it up.
The next punch threw him off balance. He stumbled a step, fell forward – but before he could hit the ground, a hand caught his arm and pulled him upright. JJ tensed automatically, bracing for another cuff, but it didn’t come.
“Jesus... Sit down,” his dad muttered, frowning a little, and set him down on the steps. Then untangled the hose, gave it a shake, and held it out.
“C’mon. Drink. Can’t have you keelin’ over. ”
Arms felt like noodles – he barely managed to lift them, fingers tingling as he took the hose. The water was metallic and warm, but he gulped it anyway, spilling half down his front. The shaking didn’t stop, just rattled lower in his gut, but it gave him a second to breathe.
Without a word, Dad cracked another beer – fifth, if you counted the one in the car – and leaned against the porch railing. For a while, it was just the slow glug of beer and the buzz of bugs.
After a few minutes, he tipped his chin toward JJ. “You okay?” Like he already knew the answer.
A quick nod.
“Good. Get up then.”
His legs wobbled, but JJ forced himself up. Dad moved back in front of him, casual like it was nothing, and tapped his chest.
“Alright. Now hit me.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
That wasn’t right. No way. JJ didn’t move. His whole body felt wrong – sore and dizzy, like the ground might fall out underneath him. Dad stood there, cigarette between his teeth. Calm, like he was ordering a drink. Like JJ should be able to just haul off and swing without thinking. But he was thinking. Hard. He squinted at his dad’s face – no heat there. A flicker of amusement, maybe, like he already knew JJ wouldn’t do it right.
“You scared?”
‘Course he was. But what the hell was he supposed to say? His head was spinning, every answer felt like it might get him smacked. His dad stared him down with that weird look, like he could see everything JJ was thinking.
“You think I’m gonna hit ya?”
“No, Dad.” The lie slipped easy. But yeah, he kind of did.
“I ain't. Now move.”
He swung weakly. It landed with more breath than muscle.
Luke didn’t flinch. “Again.”
That one was a little better, maybe. His arm shook the whole way through.
“C’mon now, J,” he looked almost bored.“That all you got?”
JJ set his jaw. Tried again, harder – all it earned him was an eye roll.
“That the same punch you brought to school? No wonder that Kook put you on your ass.“
Heat crawled up his neck, but he didn't say anything.
“Bet they’re still laughin’.” dad muttered through a cloud of smoke and looked at him sideways. “Rich boy knocks out the trash. That what you wanna be? Everyone’s little joke?”
His ears were burning, all thoughts vanished, and he moved. Stepped in hard, screwed his eyes shut and threw everything he had into one wild punch. It wasn’t clean, but it landed hard across his dad’s shoulder, sinking into muscle. Luke rocked back a little, grin wide like it didn’t hurt at all.
“Goddamn,” he said, rubbing the spot. “There it is. That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”
For a long moment, JJ stood there watching his hands. Still, waiting.
But there was just another laugh- rough, damn near proud. Luke shook out his shoulder like it was nothing, and smiled at JJ, for real.
“You feel that?” He slapped the spot once, like he could still feel the hit. “That’s how it’s done. Like you mean it.”
“Yeah?” JJ's hands were still shaking.
“Fuck yeah!” The grin cracked wider, Hell of a hit. Could drop a kid your size, easy.”
Luke clapped him on the back hard enough to bump him forward. “Knew you had it in you.”
JJ’s stomach jumped sideways. Maybe he hadn’t heard right, but the grin came anyway, like his mouth had a mind of its own.
Then dad's smile dropped and his eyes went hard. JJ's body caught it before his brain did, shoulders pulling up tight. Both hands landed heavy on his shoulders and Dad bent down until they were level. As soon as JJ tried to look away, two fingers hooked under his chin and nudged it back up, until their eyes met.
“You ain't some whiny kid, J. You're tough. Next time some damn Kooks mess with you?” The grip closed in, achingly tight. “You show 'em what you got. Knock their fuckin’ teeth in. Hear me?”
His shoulder hurt and his eyes were watering, but JJ couldn't move his head, so he blinked hard. He was tough alright, not some whiny kid. Dad was still staring and he gave a quick nod. The pressure held for another second, then finally, he straightened with a grunt, like that settled something, and walked off.
Didn’t go in right away though. Stopped at the bottom of the steps, one hand on the rail, eyes fixed somewhere past him, like JJ wasn’t even there. The cigarette burned down in his hand. Then he looked over to see JJ using his shirt to wipe at his face. He dropped it quick – didn’t want Dad thinking he was crying or anything.
Something flickered in Luke's eyes then, that weird look he only got when he talked about Momma.
“Go on in, J.” He cleared his throat. “Too damn hot out here anyway.” Already turning. “Maybe we’ll get a pizza or somethin’.”
The butt flew into the dirt and he disappeared inside.
The shirt clung to JJs back and breathing didn’t land right. Everything ached, but he smiled anyway – dumb, too-big kind of smile. He didn’t know why. Maybe ‘cause he was tough. He hit right. Or maybe ‘cause Dad smiled first. Or ‘cause it felt like… something. Like being big, maybe. Like being enough.
The bugs filled the silence, whining in his ears and crawling along his neck. He stayed out a little longer anyway, then wiped his face on his sleeve and went inside.
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JJ really did it, like a year later. Knocked some Kook’s fuckin’ teeth in at school. Big mouth wouldn’t shut up, said some dumb shit in a voice that made JJ’s skin crawl, and then… boom. Didn’t think. Just hit. Hard, like his dad said to. Split the kid’s face open – two hits, maybe three. Busted his nose. Chipped a tooth. Blood everywhere. The kid cried. JJ didn’t, not yet.
Then the cops came.
After that, he and his dad sat in this tiny room that smelled weird like old paper. The DCS lady in a soft blue sweater talked slow – like they were stupid or something – and used words like “safe space” and “emotional regu-whatever.” Dad let her talk, nodded like he was taking notes.
Only thing he said after was: “Well, shit. Guess you can hit now, huh? Hope it was worth the fuckin’ mess you made.”
They got home.
JJ did cry, then.
There’s still a scar on his thigh from that night – pink, faded. Belt-shaped. Two, maybe. Depends how you count.
He hadn’t swung wrong, though. Never did since.