Tigers In Us

Blayze is pathetic when it comes to sports. At his school sports matter, not grades. This was never a problem until he is saved, from a routine fight. Then it's a problem.


1. chapter 1

Fear.  People try to understand it, but you can’t.  You can get close but never truly get it.  Me I’m Blayze, local punching bag.  If you want advice on a math problem or a vocabulary word I would be the go to.  Except you are considered a geek for it.  Geeks have it bad.

My feet moved softly across the tile floor of Ruffington Jr high.  Terror rushes into me as I walk to eat lunch outside.  The large crowds of people always do this.  I reach up for my hoodie zipper and quickly child myself.  No way I was letting people see how egged I was.  

Sliding into the narrow door frame I stepped outside.  Cool December air wiped at my face.  I welcomed the cold as I sat beneath a pine.

It’s not like I get peace for long though.  No of course not, never on the days I get up too late for breakfast.   A group of guys comes up to me and asks, “how smart you think you are,” in a mocking tone.

I study the group.  There’s four of them, all at least six foot.  “How smart you want to think of me as,” I respond.

The leader spat on me.  

They wanted me to start a fight.  Especially one I would stand no chance at all in.  I was used to this, now I had to get them mad enough to leave, but not too mad.

I wiped the spit of my face and studied it in my hand, “fascinating,” I muttered while thinking how incredibly disgusting this was.

The guys laughed and elbowed each other.  I got up and started to leave thinking that was enough.  

“Hey there he goes,” tainted one of them.  I longed to turn around and punch him, but I kept walking.  There was no way I was into doing something so suicidal.  “Keep walking,” I muttered to myself.

I got a few more steps before a mud ball hit me hard and wet on my balk.  Terror struck me and I took of sprinting as hard as I could.  Running along the edge of the school building is normal relatively safe.  But I was looking for an open door, and that meant ducking in and out of corners.  After two minutes I got a cramp in my side.  Shocking realization, I’m just a pale, white, teen, black haired genius that can’t even lift more than ten pounds.

As I ducked around another corner, a girl opened a door.

“Why are you so sweaty,” she demanded.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe because I am about to get mauled over nothing,” I snapped.

She looked around the corner.

“Well,” I asked her.

She grabbed my arm and tossed me inside, shutting the door fast.  How dump was this girl.  There was no way she could take on these four.  Another thing I didn't get at the time, how had I landed on my butt.  Cues I kind of got the impression that was on purpose.

I climbed to my feet and looked out the window on the door.  The four boys that had wanted to beat me up stopped when they saw her.  She shouted something at them and they ran for the hills.  

I could not believe it, those were the strongest four in the school, and they were scared of her!  She turned around so fast my brain took a few second to catch up.  When it did though I opened up the locked door for her.

When she came in she studied me.  I felt like she was seeing right through me.  And just when I was about to ask her name she turned and walked off.

Suddenly panic caught up with me.  Take the thing you're most afraid of then multiply that by three.  That’s the terroir that seeped into me.  I bent over feeling like I had just been punched in the gut.

Ok enough I told myself after a few seconds, standing up strait.  I was not bowing to fear no matter how hard it got.

Normally no one helps.  Normally I fend for myself.  Normally I’m beat black and blue.  I started carrying odder stuff in my backpack too.  An ice block in my lunch even if I don’t need it and a tube of Neosporin.  


When I got into my last class, there was paper on top of all the desk.  I knew that we were supposed to wait for a teacher but still.  

“Hey dump bell I’ll give you a quarter if you peek,” said cassie, one of the ruder girls.

I decided to ignore the dump bell comment and said, “sure”.  Again I should ignore her.  She wants me in trouble, but the irrational part of me wants to prove a point, even though there isn't one.

I lift up the paper.  No thrill runs through me like you might expect.  The paper was last week’s test.  I showed Cassie the paper.

She scowled and threw the quarter at me.  I flinched as the tiny disk hit my nose.  

“Thanks',” I told her sarcastically.

Cassie was about to answer when the teacher walked in.

A jolt of surprise moved through me and I sort of accidentally slapped the paper on my desk super loud.

The teacher, Mr. craw, asked, “do you wish to speak Blazer”.

My throat tightened.  I sat there with a blank mode, for a few seconds then responded, “yes Sir”.

“Than say it,” Mr. craw.

My chest tightened, and my tongue got stuck on the top of my mouth.  That had not been what I’d mean to say!

I scrambled for an idea.  Franticly my eyes darted around the room.  Two of the four boys that had tried to beat me up earlier where in the room.  A crazy wild thought jumped into my head.  Before I got a chance to chicken on out I said, “I would like to thank you two for accepting me and that girl so gracefully at lunch,” then I sat down fast.  I had looked right at them when I had said it.

“Will there be anything else,” Mr. craw asked.

Silence was his answer.

“Now turn your papers over,” he instructed.

As I had already known I got a high grade, a B+.

I grin to myself.

Someone whispers in my ear,” go kill yourself”.

I don’t even look behind me.  I just raise a fist and punch the miserable person who said that.

Who ever it had been howled.

“Is there a problem,” inquired Mr.craw turning around.

“Blazer punched me!” complained the person.

A lump of anger got stuck in my throat as fear sent adrenalin racing through me.

“Blazer go to the office,” ordered Mr.craw.

I got up and walked out.  The two things I would never do, hurt myself or surrender to fear.


On the way to office I had time to think.  I started my walk with my chest tight.  I wanted to scream at the world and how unfair it was.  I had enough problems in the world without this.  I started walking to my locker first.  I had been in with psychologist before.  The I feel ______ you statement was so “ingenious”, it so don't get me in more trouble.  A flipped book can so tell me who I am and how to solve my problems.

I got to my locker and opened the front pouch of my backpack.  Only my phone according to my parents.  According to me, my phone and lavender.

I reached in and my hand brushed against paper.  Paper?  I could look at it when I got home.  I pulled out the essential oil bottle and dropped a tiny amount on my wrist.  I sat it on the ground in front of me.  I sat there and breathed for a few minutes.

When I got up the panic was still running through me urging me to run from nothing, but at least now I could breath.  I wanted to sit and be part of the world longer but I had a date with office debates.

Walking down the hall gave me time to focus on the important thing though.  Plotting.  I could wing it but the main idea of what I wanted to follow.  I could let them accuse me of this.  Then I could ask for the lechers.  Then what?

To late to answer that I was already at the door.  I held back a sob as I opened the door.

“Blazer what took you so long,” asked the secretary.  Her face was ugly from all the make up.  Her lips were redder than Kool aid and her eyes appeared to be blue.  Not the irises but the skin around the eye.

“I’m a slow walker,” I lied.

“Hmm,” she replied.

I would have had to answer only the vice principal came out and called, “Blazer”.

I followed him down the small hallway and out of the stuffy atmosphere.  

His office was way worse than the front part of the office.

The card outside the door had said, Mr. grin.  When Mr. grin sat I took a seat on a yoga ball across from him.

“You know why you're here,” he asked.

I bounced on the ball twice before saying, “if I didn't I would have already asked you”.  My heart pounded.  Stuff it! I mentally screamed at my fear.

“You punched Brice,” said Mr. grin.

“I did,” I replied forcing myself to look him in the eye.

“How often are you angry,” asked Mr. grin.

Now I was getting the concealer routine.  “Want to know what he said,” I asked as a response.  Part of me was screaming to run to get out, to do something.  The rational part of me forced myself to focus on the conversation in front of me.

“Regardless of what he said you still lost your temper,” began Mr. grin.

I heal up my hand for him to stop.  I must have been glaring because he snapped his mouth shut.  “Do you want to know what he said,” I repeated.

Mr. grin telling I was not letting this drop asked, “what did he say”.

“He told me to kill myself,” I replied in an even tone.  The strength in my voice surprised me.  My throat was tensing up again.

Mr. grin stared at me.

I stared back forcing myself to meet his eyes and hold it, despite the fact that each second made more terroir crash into me.

Finally Mr. grin said, “I’ll look into this,” tonelessly.  That was code for I don’t care and I’m tired of putting up with you.

I got up and walked out.  That was the problem here, no one cared.


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