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“Not your son,” I mutter under my breath. “You know what? I’ve got somewhere to be. Be back later,” I excuse myself from the table without taking a bite. No one bothers to say a word or attempt to stop me as I head to my room again. I text out a quick message to Eric as Igrab my shit to leave.
Dinner was a bust. I’m leaving the house. Wanna meet up early?
Eric:I’m on shift for another half hour. You can drop by, though. I can get you a cheap pizza with my employee discount.
It’s probably better than meatloaf, anyway. My car is still loaded up with shit. I didn’t bother to unpack earlier, but I don’t think it’ll matter. I already took the important stuff in my bag inside earlier. Most of what’s still in the car is clothes. It’ll be fine. I fire up the engine and head for the pizzeria and arcade where Eric works.
Luckily, it’s not much of a drive from our townhouse to get there. I’m already tired from driving home, and I’m not thrilled about being in the car again. It only takes a few minutes before I’m pulling into the parking lot for the strip mall and finding a spot. I lock up the car and walk up to the building, ignoring the other nearby shops and walking toward the sign that says, ‘Pie in the Sky Pizzeria & Arcade.’
The lights inside are dimmer than the sunlight outside. The noise of traffic drifts away, replaced by the ringingarcade machines’ sound effects. Stepping in sends me right back to the mindset of being in high school and killing time with my friends. I pull out my phone to text Eric again, but before I can send a message, he calls my name from across the room. “Hey, Theo.”
“Nice uniform,” I comment, looking him up and down as I take in the polyester mess he’s wearing. The dim lighting only makes the colors look tackier and casts a pale, sickly color to Eric’s face. His short brown hair is held back from his face with a matching visor.
“Yeah, laugh it up. At least I have a job,” he taunts.
“Dude, you work at a pizza place. It’s not something to be proud of.”
“I have money coming in and my own apartment,” he brags. “I don’t have to bail out on dinner early because of family shit. What happened, anyway?”
“Didn’t you say you could get me discount food?” I change the subject. “I could go for some pizza.”
Eric rolls his eyes but leads me over to a two-seater table and hands me a menu. “What can I get you?” he asks.
I barely glance at the menu before I make up my mind. “Let’s go with two slices of Hawaiian and an orange soda.”
Eric collects the menu, tucking it under his arm. “I’ll get right on it.” He walks away, stopping at a few other tables along the way to greet customers and check in. I turn my attention to the arcade portion of the restaurant, looking for new machines. Eric doesn’t leave me waiting for long before he walks back with a tray in his hand loaded up with food. He drops a plate in front of me with two large slices of pizza, setting the cup on the side. “I get off the clock in like ten minutes,” he tells me as he sets down a second plate across the table from me. “I just need to finish up and I’ll be back soon. Don’t eat my food.” With that, Eric disappears, heading off to do his job.
I know I only avoided the conversation temporarily, but on one thing, I’ll admit Eric had a point. Having my own apartment sounds pretty nice right about now. Not having to deal with family drama. Not having to worry about roommates. Being able to bring a girl home occasionally. I can’t deny the appeal. But Eric didn’t bother with college after high school. He went right to working and saving up money to move out. I’m hoping I can get a better job than serving pizza at our old high school hangout.
“So, how is home sweet home?” Eric asks when he sits down again.
“Any chance you’re looking for a roommate?” I joke.
“You couldn’t afford it.” Eric lifts his pizza slice to his mouth and takes a bite. “You looking for a job yet?”
“Nah, I’ll give it a week. Get settled at home first. I haven’t even unpacked all my stuff yet.”
“Well, it’s nice to see you home. How was it, anyway? Did you have fun in your out-of-state college?”
“It was nice,” I admit. No Dad harassing me for my choices. No comparing me to the perfect golden child. No dealing with Cy and their weirdness. I got the chance to just be myself for a little while and not have to worry about what my family thinks. Of course, it would be over too soon. After that brief taste of freedom, I can’t wait to be on my own again.
Chapter Two
Cypress
Isort through my dresser, pulling out workout clothes and tossing them on my bed. Just for fun, I add a mesh dark blue jock strap to the mix to finish the outfit. It’s early morning, but I didn’t get much sleep last night after being woken up around midnight when Theo snuck in. At least I don’t have to worry about running into him this morning as I get ready to head off to the gym for training.
I grab my clothes, taking the bundle with me to the bathroom for a quick shower. I rush through the motions, scrubbing myself clean and washing my hair. When I step out, I pull on the jock and follow it with the leggings and tank top I picked out. The leggings are a swirling mixture of deep purple and black that reminds me of space designs. The tank is just plain black. I quickly throw my long hairinto a ponytail at the base of my neck and call it good enough. I can fix my hair when I get there.
We only live a few miles away from the gym I train at. On my bike it’s a thirty-minute ride. I could get there quicker if I drove, but riding my bike has the added bonus of being a decent warm-up for my work-out. By the time I get to the Knockout Training Facility, I’ve worked up a decent sweat. It’s as much from the rising summer temperatures as it is the ride. Only nine a.m. and clearly today is going to be a hot one. I lock up my bike outside the building, my hand going to my hair as I walk in. The receptionist, Emmit, waves me along, recognizing me like he usually does.
I glance in the mirror as I walk into the locker room. Ugh, the combination of helmet hair and sweat isn’t the best look on me. Some of my hair must have escaped the ponytail as I was riding. I pull out a brush from my cross-body bag, running it through my long hair. The length probably isn’t the most practical for MMA, but I’ve gotten good at French braiding over the years. I part my hair evenly down the middle and plait it in two tight braids that end just below my shoulders. Grabbing my bag, I pull my hand wraps out and shove the rest into a locker. Thereare a few other people here, but for the most part we do our own thing. And that suits me just fine, I’m here to train.
To get to the weight room, I make my way through the large open area of the gym first. I pause to watch a pair of fighters in the ring for a moment before stepping into the training room. Once inside the room, I find a free punching bag and get into it, going through combos. I’ve done the moves so many times that I don’t have to think about it.
It started with Judo when I was little. My mom wanted me to have a way to defend myself after one too many bullies had a problem with the way I dressed. Elementary school kids aren’t the most open-minded about a little boy wearing bright colors and skirts. My mom never cared, though. She was always encouraging, letting me pick what I wanted to wear no matter what section of the store it came out of. I don’t think it surprised her at all when I came out as nonbinary. She might not have been familiar with the term, but nothing about me really changed. I grew out my hair, switched to they/them pronouns, and kept wearing whatever I wanted.
The bullying didn’t get easier as I got older. Whether I stood up for myself or not, I still drew attention. Judobecame an escape for me. I loved following the movements and learning the throws and grapples. When I reached middle school, I transitioned to Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. I got tired of just defending myself and wanted to learn a martial art with striking moves. When it came to bullies, I still did my best to hold back, but at least in the ring I can let out some of that anger. It only made sense to switch to MMA as I got older.
