Read Online The Game Player by Rafael Yglesias - Free Book Online

got a leg pinned under Danny when he hit the ground. It was pathetically comical to watch this boy pulling at his leg, his face contorting more and more with each frantic movement. He was freed when Brian sprung (and I mean sprung) to his feet and pulled Danny up by his arm. Brian yanked him up and stuck out his leg so that Danny’s momentum forward became a vicious trip that sent Danny sprawling and we heard the same sickening sound of gravel crunching as when Adam fell.
    â€œNow shall I call your daddy?” Brian yelled, but with enough diffidence so that it seemed more ironic than furious. I only half listened to the protests and peacemaking remarks the others spoke; I was waiting for Danny’s reaction of outrage. I watched his dusty, red head move slowly about and I almost felt sorry for him when his face came into view. A pebble had made a jagged scratch across his left cheek and his right knee was exposed, showing a purplish square of skin. He sat up and pressed the flap of pant leg against it. I winced just as he did and thought of how much the iodine was going to hurt.
    â€œListen, you fuck,” Danny said. “You want to put on gloves and we’ll go a few in the basement? Or do you only fight like a little faggot girl?”
    Brian listened as if there were no urgency in this situation. He showed neither amusement or defensiveness. “How touching of you to want a fair fight, Dan. Don’t feel you have to waste our time pretending you need revenge.” I thought he was finished, but he suddenly said, “Put on gloves! What kind of shit is that?”
    â€œI’m talking about a real fight where you can’t kick and scratch like a little girlie.”
    â€œGirlie?” Brian opened his eyes in such a funny way that the rest of us laughed. I knew then that there wasn’t going to be any more fighting. “Look, Dan,” Brian said earnestly, “I’m sorry I did that. I’m a sore loser, okay? You want to punch me? Go ahead.” He paused and looked so inoffensively sincere that it was almost embarrassing.
    â€œYou tore my fuckin pants,” Danny whined. Someone giggled. “What’s so funny about that? You think it’s funny, you tell my mother about it.” Everybody laughed with him on that.
    â€œIf you like,” Brian said. “I’ll explain to your mom. You know, I’ll tell her I went crazy cause we lost and I’ll pay for your pants.”
    There was much demurring and manly apologies and swapping of mother stories. After a few minutes, Adam, whose upset had been completely forgotten, was busy talking about a fight he had had with his parents that morning. It seemed miraculous, our sudden peace, and only Brian’s apology seemed to have been a calculated act, but later he told me he knew when he rushed Danny that that would be the eventual result. “We’re the captains,” he said seriously. “We’re the ones who have to do the fighting.”
    â€œBut how did you know that Danny wouldn’t make it a real brawl? Then things would have been worse.”
    â€œThey wouldn’t have been worse. Even if the two of us had fuckin stood there and slugged it out, the rest of you would have cooled down and enjoyed the fight. Anyway, I knew that Danny wouldn’t fight. When I first moved here, he and I had a big fight. I kicked the shit out of him.”
    I stared, rethinking Danny’s reactions with this new knowledge.
    Brian misunderstood my blank look. “I did. Really. I know my apology seemed cowardly. It’s just that if I didn’t, his pride would have forced him to fight me and if you beat somebody up twice, all you end up with is a permanent enemy, or, at best, a slave. I don’t want either of those.”
    â€œWhy did Danny keep accusing you of fighting like a faggot?”
    â€œOh, cause when I beat him up, he kept trying to make it into a boxing match or something. I