Under the Bridge by Michael Harmon

“Check it,” he said, then took off, skating down the hall, bumping past people, carving a path back and forth. People hugged lockers and cheered as he threw kick-flips and ollies, the clack of his wheels echoing through the place.
    Even though my stomach churned when I thought about what would happen later, I couldn’t help but envy him. He had no fear. No boundaries. Skating was about freedom and about breaking rules for a reason, and there was something inside my brother that lived for it. He did stupid things, buthe never did them for stupid reasons. Regardless of the consequences. This was for my dad, and no matter how I felt about it, I understood where he was coming from.
    As he hit the end of the hall, turned around, and began skating back, a few teachers came out of their classrooms, wondering what the issue was. That included Mr. Halvorson, the baseball coach and head of the English department. He saw Indy rolling toward him and lunged, grabbing him by his shirt and yanking him up against a row of lockers. Indy’s board rolled on. I picked it up, walking toward them.
    By the look on Mr. Halvorson’s face and the way the tendons in his neck stood out as he growled at Indy, I knew things were going to get out of hand. Halvorson was a big guy with a reputation for being the ultimate jock, and he looked like he was about to make Indy a part of the locker. I double-timed it, getting there just in time to hear Indy ask him where he hid the steroid needle marks. Halvorson’s grip tightened on Indy’s shirt. “This school has just about had enough of you, young man.”
    Indy smiled. “You know what? We see things the same. You don’t give a shit if I exist, and I don’t give a shit if you get hit by a truck tomorrow. Even, huh?”
    I broke in. “Knock it off, Indy.”
    He looked at me, still pinned to the locker. “Awesome. It’s my brother. You want to join in, Tate? Maybe take turns telling me how much this school wants me around? At least this jackhole is honest about it.”
    Mr. Halvorson loosened his grip on Indy, and I sawsomething in his expression change. “I’ll escort you to the office.” He looked at me. “You can go on to class.”

    By fifth period I knew Mom had been to the office and Indy was back at the house, and for the first time throughout all the petty and stupid arguing between my dad and my brother, I didn’t want to go home. For the first time, I suppose, I knew something had snapped for both of them. We’d always been a family, and now that wasn’t the case.
    Things were going from bad to worse faster than I could count, and I didn’t know where it would end up. My dad was not a man to cross, Indy was born to cross him, and neither would stop. They were poison to each other, and I couldn’t be the remedy. Nobody could.
    On the way to sixth period, I spotted Corey Norton at his locker, sporting two black eyes and a swollen nose. I tapped him on the shoulder, and he flinched when he turned and saw me. We stood there for a moment, and I studied his face. Not bad for one punch. He frowned. “You broke my nose.” It came out nasally.
    I dug in my pocket, taking out the eight dollars left over from the deck. I held it out to him. I wasn’t too interested in feeling sorry for a guy who would do that to a kid. “Leave him alone.”
    He looked at my outstretched hand, then took the money. “I could press charges, you know.”
    I turned around and walked away. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. His entire credibility in this school as a skater would vanish if he did. He’d lick his wounds and avoid me, or he and his buddies would find me alone somewhere and beat the hell out of me, but I didn’t care either way. I’d been busted up a few times and could handle once more. Corey was a coward and a bully, and nothing would change that.
    The girl I’d seen in the church parking lot, Kimberly Lawson, sat three seats ahead of me in sixth-period English. When I walked into class, she was