Knock-out Bell

	Johnny always called it knock-out bell because of all the boxers. When he came up with the name we were all there on a Friday afternoon. Harry drove us from the park in his new car, a Toyota FJ cruiser. It was an ugly, absurd car but we didn't care because we were young and it was a car.
	"Taco Bell!" said Johnny as we approached. "I need some Taco Bell in my life. Get inside me, am I right?"
	"Get it right inside me," said Harry as he parked. "Get up in me, Taco Bell!"
	Johnny bounced out of the front seat and squinted and grinned at me while I got out. It was a good temperature out and the sun felt nice on my head and I closed my eyes to enjoy it. "Look at Nick! Oh, he's so high. Little Nicky-boy all grown up! How ya feelin', Nicky?" Jonny said.
	"I'm not high. Never been high. That's illegal, Johnny-boy," I said. I was high. I never was a big smoker like Johnny or Harry but sometimes it hit me in the right way and I liked it. Usually it made me quiet and worried but sometimes it was good.
	"Someone around here smokin' pot?" Harry came around the tall hood of the car squinting and holding his hands like a gun. "Who's out here smokin' pot? That's a one way ticket to trouble if ya ask me, kids."
	"Him, officer!" Johnny pointed at me and laughed. "Officer, he's high as balls! Get him!" I laughed. Harry and I mock-wrestled on the asphalt, grabbing each others arms. The sky was very blue above and the low suburban buildings surrounded us. Johnny tapped his foot. "Once you two are done jerking each other off, let's go. Are you ready now? You sure? Let's go!" He skipped ahead of us into Taco Bell. Harry followed and I followed him. The restaurant was on a patch of green grass across from the main strip of the outdoor mall. It wasn't a big mall. We walked away from the Papa John's and the DMV and the Novato Boxing Gym into the restaurant.
	We sat in the restaurant for a long time before the boxers all came in. Now that I think about it they probably had been at the afternoon workout because they came all at once. The first one was a short dark-skinned kid with his hair cropped short and he was wearing a big black t-shirt that you could see the sweat through. He had ratty white wraps draped on his neck, and sweat was drying on his forehead. He took a cup for water and gulped it down and then another.
	Harry and I watched him with the soiled food-paper in front of us. "Aaron's house is cool, too," Johnny said. "Last time I was there those grovers showed up. Did I tell you that story?"
	"What?" said Harry, looking back at Johnny. "Sorry, what'd you say?" Johnny followed my gaze and saw the boxer.
	"Just the story about the grovers. Who is that guy? Nick, do you know him?"
	"No," I said.
	"Well why are you staring at him then? You look creepy, man. What, you think he's cute? Or you're looking for a fight? Oh, Nicky has a crush." Harry laughed.
	"Both," I said. "Fuck him and fight him. I'm into that."
	"Totally, dude. Me as well, bro!" Johnny put his hand up for a high five and I slapped it.
	The other boxers started to come in. Another one came in and he was skinny and tall. His bottom lip was slouched and pouty and his eyes were low and he looked like he was disinterested in the world. I thought he looked like a kid who's parents had spoiled him and I didn't like him. Two came in together then, a kid with french braids and corn-rows and baggy colorful shorts and a skinny white kid. They all wore the same black shoes with silver Nike swooshes except for the guy with the french braids, who had shoes with gold lining. The white kid's blonde hair was matted to his forehead and his back was hunched like skinny guys' backs sometimes are and he looked out of place. Johnny looked at me with his eyebrows raised. "What the hell?" he said quietly and laughed. "Im too high for this. We're in a Taco Bell with a bunch of boxers right now. What is going on?" He looked at me with his eyes wide and his mouth smiling.
	"Im way too high for this," said Harry, and he and Johnny suppressed laughs. I smiled.
	The boxers were centered around the guy with french braids and he was telling them a story. We couldn't hear his words but the others laughed at the story and I could hear the cadence of his voice, dramatic with highs and lows, and I could see his eyebrows raise and lower and his hands waving. The white guy hovered outside with his hands behind his back leaning over and laughing when the others did.

	"Let's roll on out, boys," I said. I realized that there were even more boxers in the restaurant now, easily nine or ten, all sweaty and making conversation. The original group was the most raucous and there were some middle-aged guys talking in a different group, and a couple women in exercise tops and ponytails. The women varied from teenagers to middle-aged and skinny-tall to fat-short. Harry and Johnny were still in silent, high convulsions about the boxers. I knew they were exaggerating but I thought stop, enjoy, don't criticize.
	In the car Harry and Johnny exploded. "What the actual fuck. That was the weirdest fucking thing! Literally, high as shit in a deserted Taco Bell and suddenly a fucking swarm of boxers just rolls in and takes the place over. What!? I always get myself into these ridiculous situations when I'm high. I do the craziest shit," Johnny said. He was in the passenger seat leaned back against his headrest, laughing silently.
	"You actually do," I said. "You really get yourself into some funny shit."
	"Yeah, yeah, I know. Like, what the fuck? End up at - at god damn knock-out bell, am I right?"
	Harry took a second and then laughed hard. "Knock-out bell! That's clever, man."
	"Punny," I said and laughed.
	"You're good with word play, man, Johnny. Knock-out bell. That's nice." Harry still laughed. "So where to, boys?"

	Later we were back on the hill where we smoke. The sun had set late but it was dark now. The bugs made a constant high-pitched buzz and we looked at the Novato lights below us.
	"We should stop and eat before we go to Aaron's," Johnny said. "He gets mad when you eat his food." Harry and I stayed silent. "When are you guys trying to get there?" Johnny asked. "We should probably go soon, you know."
	"Yeah," said Harry, still looking down the hill.
	"Let's stay a little longer," I said. I lit a cigarette. "It's nice up here. Aaron's can wait."
	"Yeah, whatever," said Johnny. We lapsed back into silence.
	After a little while I said "Have you guys ever thought about boxing?"
	"What, like at that gym?" said Harry.
	"Yeah, or somewhere else. I don't know."
	"Ha!" said Johnny. He had packed another bowl and was exhaling. "Knock-out bell got you, dude. You liked those guys! Want to hang with the tough boys at Taco Bell, huh? I see you, Nicky boy."
	"Yeah. I mean, I saw those guys and I was just like - 'That's what boxers look like? Sign me up, boss!' Anything to get closer to those big piles of man, right?" Johnny and Harry laughed. I knew the jokes were stupid but I made them anyway. I never liked making jokes and it didn't come naturally to me. I learned how to make them from all the Johnnys I'd met and the jokes were never all the way mine.

	A lot of months went by after that and every time we went Johnny called it knock out bell. I went to the boxing gym for the first time in October. I went on and off until February when I was at a party and I saw a kid from another school crack Harry's head open with a forty-ounce bottle. My dad thought I started going more to learn self-defense after that, but he was wrong. I had fantasies of self-defense of course, of me grabbing the bottle from the guy and knocking his jaw loose with it. The reason I really went was because I was angry about a lot of things, especially about all the time we'd spent sitting in Taco Bell and on that stupid hill doing nothing. And the kid that hit Harry did nothing, and he was doing nothing when he hit Harry.
	I thought about French-braids a lot after Harry got hit. I'd met him at the gym by then and found out that his name was Rudy Macedo. He didn't train with us and I don't think he knew my name but I thought about him and what he would have done if he had gotten hit, or been watching, or been at the party.
	Rudy was the best fighter in the gym since December. The guy who had been the best fighter before was a fast, short guy named Enrique who was always there, before he quit. I never knew him well but he didn't strike me as a personality like Rudy was. From overheard bits of conversation I knew that Rudy thought that Enrique only was the star because his weight class was weak in the area. I privately agreed. Enrique quit boxing because he had to start working full-time. There was a goodbye party that I didn't go to.
	Rudy was always sitting on the crate in the back room where Susan couldn't see him and grinning at his phone while he texted. Once Susan said from the front, "Rudy, if I come back there and you haven't finished your crunches, I swear-to-god I'm gonna stick my foot up your ass."
	"I'm doin' 'em," Rudy would shout back.
	"And you can forget about the Vacaville fight, too, you lazy-ass. If you're not prepared I'll pull you out of this shit and send Jorge in your place. At least he's a worker." Susan and Jorge smiled at each other. He was a fat middle-aged man who went to the class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Jorge couldn't do pushups because of his belly but he always joked about it. "You've got to earn it, Rud! Don't sit on that talent. Get out and make me some money."
	"Damn, Suze. You cold! Why you gotta be like that, huh?" Rudy mock-wailed back and started doing his crunches. Susan sat on the blue mat. Her stomach rolled against her t-shirt but her legs were muscular in nylon leggings with clean pink Nike trainers at the end. There was bill from one of her fights when she was young on the wall. She was dark and handsome in the small black and white photo. It made me sad, but Susan warded off pity by never pitying herself. She had a tiny pet dog named Kevin that hung around the gym. He wandered free until one day he walked into the path of a swinging jump rope. From then on he was tied to the leg of the front desk.
	The gym was in the mall by the Taco Bell. The space was meant to be a storefront and it was very small. There were two glass doors like a store and barely room for the ring in the center. Cardio machines and bags were in the front and on the other side of the ring was some open space, the desk where Susan sat and the back room.
	The back room was for the real fighters, the first group that I had seen in Taco Bell. I knew their names now. Luis was the kid I didn't like. He showed up late every day and was only a decent fighter because of his reach, which was impressively long. I made his nose bleed the first time we fought by shifting inside his jab and throwing a had right down the middle. He left to clean up and when he came back he was tight about the hit and he came in and took a lot of swings at me and he got me one on the lip. I always thought he could be a good fighter because he had the body but he was lazy and stupid and afraid to get hit. When he got mad and wanted to come at me he was better than me by a mile. Ricky was the short kid and he wasn't a good fighter but I liked him because he was a hard worker and a good teacher. The white guy's name was John and I liked him too even though he was quiet and always afraid to get hit.
	I started training with the real fighters on Mondays and Wednesdays after Harry got hit. I asked Susan on Monday if I could start coming and she said "Yeah. Uh - Yeah, you can. You're paying for two a week, right? So Tuesdays and Thursdays is fine."
	"Is it harder?" I said. "I mean, how is it - how is it different?"
	"More technique, more sparring, less conditioning. That's the other thing, actually - do you want to fight? Even if you don't, you've got to start doing conditioning outside of class. Your cardio - well, it sucks, no offense. You can punch okay, pretty good even sometimes, but you need to work on your endurance. Get the breathing down." She blew air out of her mouth in bursts as she mimed left uppercut, right, left.
	"I can do that. Fighting - you mean, like, fighting? In a match?"
	"A lot of places up north have little amateur fights. And we have our anniversary coming up - do you know about that?"
	"No. Anniversary?"
	"Yeah," she said, looking around the gym. People were filtering out after class. "We hold a little show every year for our anniversary. It's in July. It's fun. Some other gyms come out, come down from the East Bay. It's casual and it's a good place to start if you're looking to fight. Not that the competition isn't tough, 'cause it is. Here-" She looked at me and squinted. "How much do you weigh?"
	"One-sixty, one-sixty-five. Ish."
	"Hm. Yeah, we could probably have you fight in July. Just keep coming to class, start doing cardio on your own. Come to fight on Saturdays. I know 9AM is early but-"
	I cut her off. "I don't mind."
	"Good, then. Here-" she took a form out of her desk. "Have your doctor fill this out next time you see him. Then bring it back to me and we'll register you online. It costs a little bit, thirty or thirty-five bucks, but we need it to have you in a fight. We really should have it if you're going to be full-contact sparring on Saturdays, but it's okay for now."
	"Awesome. That's great. Thank you, Susan. I'll see you tomorrow."
	"Bring your mouth-guard. No problem. See you then."
 I left and went to my car. My heart was beating and the sweat felt good on my forehead. I took off my shirt and rolled down the window and drove shirtless down the dark freeway. I played rap music and I let the loud noise fill my head. The freeway was empty and it felt good to be alone and to be driving, pointing myself in a direction and going.
	When I went to train with the fighters I was nervous. Rudy was there bobbing and working the bag. His braids shook and he worked lightly but intently. I looked at him but he didn't turn around so I wrapped my hands and waited. We jump-roped and shadowboxed. I was self-conscious about my shadowboxing because I'd always been bad at it but Rudy and Kevin were talking and laughing and not paying attention.
	Susan told us to get mitts and have the holder call out commands. My partner was a white guy who was short and stocky like me and said he'd been in the Navy. I made him laugh and then I did well when I was punching and he was holding. When I was holding I had never called the commands before and they were bad and repetitive because I tried to do what he had done but I couldn't remember all of it.
	Afterwards I said "Sorry, man. I'm a little bit out of my comfort zone here."
	He smiled and slapped my hand and said "Don't worry, bud. You'll get it."
	After the class I used the bathroom which connected to the back room. Rudy was sitting on the crate when I walked in. He was wearing a white tank-top and white detailed shorts. The room was dark and rank, more like how you imagine a boxing gym than the store-front main area was. I looked at him and said "What up, man. I'm Nick."
	"Yeah, I seen you, man. Rudy, bruh. Good to meet you." We slapped hands. "You go to San Rafael High?" he said, glancing at his phone and looking back at me.
	"No," I said. "Terra Linda. It's okay."
	"Terra Linda, huh. I don't get there too much but I got some boys at Terra Linda."
	"Really?" I said.
	"Yeah. You know Bradley? He a senior. Uh, Randall too."
	"Huh. I'm a senior too but I've never met them."
	"Uh. Alright."
	"Good to meet you, dude."
	"Yeah, word. I'm sure I'll see you around," he said, looking back down at his phone. I went in the bathroom. He sat on the low crate with his knees high and his shorts draping down, hunched over the light of his phone. Randall and Bradley, I thought in the bathroom. The black kids all sat together, mostly. Maybe I could meet them now. The white kids probably all sit together at San Rafael, I thought. I don't know any white kids that go to San Rafael.
	When I left the bathroom Rudy was still sitting on the crate and now Luis and Kevin were around him. Rudy had taken off his hand wraps and they dangled from his thumbs to the floor. "Ay, ay, ay. I'm serious, bruh," Rudy said. His braids shook. Kevin and Luis were laughing. The way Luis laughed bothered me. "If you're having relationship troubles, man, I know what you gotta do. You gotta quit fuckin' yo girl to those slow songs, man!" Kevin and Luis laughed harder and I hovered at the edge of the room. "I'm serious," Rudy continued. "Marvin Gaye and shit? Naw, man, that gets up in your head and up in her head, man, for real. I fuck my girl to some Rick Ross shit, you know what I mean? Like womph, yeah. Boss shit. Marvin Gaye, R. Kelly - that gets her up in her head about commitment and shit. Rick Ross, you know, fast song 'bout money and hoes and some shit. Keep her head straight." I was smiling and I laughed once but they didn't look at me and I had hovered awkwardly for too long, so I left. I heard them laughing and Rudy talking loudly as I said goodbye to Susan and left the empty gym smiling.
	On Saturday I was at the gym at nine. Only Susan was there. She looked up from some papers at me. "You're here already? People kind of trickle in, especially when it's this cold out, the lazy bums. They should start getting here soon." I nodded. "Well, go ahead and warm up." I shadowboxed alone in the cold building while Susan shuffled papers.
	Some people arrived that I didn't know and we kept warming up. Susan got a call from Rudy. "You're where? Oh. Yeah. Yeah, just stay home. You have the fight on the eleventh anyway, so you need to rest. You better be in bright and early on Monday though. We can't have you getting rusty, old man." Rudy had just stopped fighting in the youth division and moved to the adult division. Susan laughed. "Yeah. Okay. Is Kevin going to make it? Okay, I'll talk to him. Bye." She flipped the phone shut.
	That was my first time full contact sparring. I fought a guy with bags under his eyes who got me in the forehead with a jab every time I moved at him. He was about my height and skinner than me. He kept throwing the same jab and I kept running into it, so he added a hard straight right after. I stopped moving front-to-back after he cracked me twice and Susan looked up and yelled at me.
	The next week I sparred Rudy and he grinned at me to show me his black mouth-guard. Susan told me to hit him hard because she was jokingly annoyed with him, like always, and she told him to go easy on me. I didn't like it but I was glad he did. He moved around me like nothing and hit me with light shots in the body or the forehead. I was swinging wild and getting off balance from missing so much so I had to pull myself in. At the end of the round he ducked to my right when I threw a jab. I recognized the movement and I stepped in and caught him with a nice tight swinging right on the eye. He got a little tight and smacked me around until the round was over. Afterwards we shook hands and I was breathing much harder than him but he smiled at me again and pulled me in to embrace. Then his eyes slacked and he stopped looking at me and he turned around to fight again, which I admired. I was always winded after a round. I got smacked around in the end of that one but I was replaying that little catching right for a while after it.
	More months flew by. I stopped smoking weed but I kept smoking cigarettes sometimes. Harry was okay. He had to spend a week in the hospital and had a bandage on his head afterwards that Johnny said made him look like a tampon. I saw Johnny less and less. He made electronic music in his spare time so he was busy with that a lot and I was busy with boxing. Neither of us made the particular effort it would have taken to hang out despite our schedules and we spent less time together on the weekends even though we still hung out at school. We went to to taco bell a few times and Johnny always made the knock out bell joke. I saw everyone less, actually. I didn't go out on Friday nights because I had to box early the next morning. Saturdays I was in a daze all day from starting my morning getting punched in the head a bunch of times.
	The first time I got knocked out was in March. Susan paired me with Robert, a fat guy in the advanced class. He was a redhead and the nicest guy in the gym and I'd seen him bench 225 like it was nothing. We got into it and a minute in he was breathing harder than I was. I was throwing jabs and he was taking them and throwing faster ones and hard rights back at me but I was managing. From the ropes Susan said "Breathe, you have to breathe, Nick! You know how!" and she did the exhale thing. I started breathing better and trying to get him in close for a tight hook. I got in close and I expected him to separate but he didn't and we traded hard punches. I got him in the jaw once and then in the stomach, but his stomach was a lot of fat on top of a lot of muscle and I don't think he even felt it. We separated and looked at each other and Susan said "Almost up!". I went back in for a last jab and he shouldered it out and twisted to clock me in the jaw with a big loose right hook. It connected hard and my brain flickered. I caught myself on the ropes as the bell rang and pulled myself back up. "Right at the bell," Susan said with a grin. "Go clean yourself up. Nice one, Robert. Don't drip on anything, Nick."
	In the bathroom I saw that my nose was bleeding. I didn't know from the hook or in the brawl. The adrenaline still had my mind all fogged and my breathing pinched and I smiled to myself in the mirror. What a sight. Bloody nose. Huh. When I went back Susan said "You want to call it a day? That was a real nice punch."
	"Sorry about that, man," said Robert. "You got me with a couple there too."
	"Oh, no worries, man. I'm always worried that I'm going too hard, so it's actually kind of nice. Totally okay, I mean." I turned to Susan. "Maybe. Can I stay for a bit and watch and see how I feel?"
	"Yeah you can stay. Just don't get in the anyone's way, you know? They're gonna need that bag. Go sit with Kevin over there." I walked over to the bench where Kevin was wrapping his hands. I watched Rudy fight in the ring. He was a good fighter even though he fought with a lot of pride and machismo. He wasn't emotional about the fights. He got tight when I cracked him, sure, but everyone does. He's not like Luis, I thought, who had been dropped off at ten and was punching a bag lazily. Rudy is a character but how does he fight so coldly? I looked at his eyes and they were active, searching, calm in the skull. Guys like Luis, their eyes pop out when they fight and not just their pride but their self-esteem is on the line. Why does dispassionate Luis care so much about the fight when fiery Rudy can be detached, I wondered.
	I thought about Johnny and what he would be like in a fight. He's not like either of them, I thought. Johnny thinks too much. He over-thinks. That's the problem with those guys and with hanging out with them. Everything is over-thought, everything is a twisted remake of another remake. I never saw the pure thing till I started boxing, I thought. The thing being remade. I wish Johnny and Harry and everyone could see the thing that boxing has.
	"You got cracked up there, huh?" Kevin asked me.
	"Little bit. It's a'ight though. I'll get'm next time, right?" I smiled and Kevin nodded.
	"For sure, little homie. Peace out then." He bumped my fist with his glove and hopped through the ropes into the ring. He shuffled and bounced and threw jabs, fighting something invisible.
	I loved boxing. That's true. I loved boxing. The guy I was then needed that invisible thing that boxing had. I needed Rudy instead of Johnny and Susan instead of Harry. They replaced the old friends, even though I didn't see any of the boxing people outside of the gym. I never saw them outside the gym. It sounds lonely but it wasn't at the time. I lived at home and my parents liked having me around more. I watched TV and slept when I wasn't boxing or at school.
	One Saturday I came home with a black eye. I hadn't told my parents that the sparring on Saturdays was full-contact but I thought it would be fine. My mom's dad had been a boxer and she liked the idea of me boxing. She wanted to see me fight, I think. My dad was the one who wasn't sure.
	"Nick. Oh my god, Nick, are you all right?" he saw the eye when I came home.
	"Yeah, it's fine. I got punched."
	"At boxing?"
	"Yeah, Dad, at boxing."
	"Wow. Nick, I don't really know what to say. Are you okay? Are you using proper protection? I'm sure mom would buy you any more gear-"
	"I'm fine, Dad. I don't need anything."
	My mom walked into the room and smiled before she saw the solemn faces. "You're really getting into it, huh, Nick? Atta boy. When's the fight coming?"
	"I don't know. I'll let you know when I do."
	"Nick, are you sure this is okay? Julie, I don't know about this. It doesn't seem safe," my dad said.
	"How'd he get you? Oh, shut up, Cody, don't be such a worrier. He'll be fine."
	"I'll tell you about it later, okay? I'm gonna make a shake."
	"Are you sure you're not concussed? Nick…" my Dad trailed off and looked at mom.
	She kept looking at Nick and said, "Oh, he's fine. You're fine, aren't you Nick? Yeah. Look at him. You look strong, by the way. Those protein shakes are doing you good."
	"Thanks, mom. Gonna go make one. See you, dad. I'm fine, really." He watched me walk away. They separated in silence and went back to their days. I sipped my shake in the sun outside and was happy with my head fuzzy from the morning.


	Sparring was cancelled one morning in June. The fight was coming up and it looked like I might not be able to be in it because my cardio was still not very good. Susan said there were other fights coming up though, for when I was ready. I woke up early anyway because it was habit now and I went outside. I lived on same hill where we smoked, down the road a bit, and I had a good view of Novato. The city looked dull in the daytime. The roofs were all brown and the buildings all muted plaster-color.
	I felt uneasy without exercise and I went to the gym after eating. Afterwards I sat and drank an iced coffee and ate a sandwich at a café. I sat quietly and enjoyed the situation without thinking.
	Johnny's loud voice suddenly came drifting from down the sidewalk and I heard Harry's laugh too. I looked up and they were there, walking, wearing the same clothes as they always did. I hadn't seen them since graduation. I watched them walk up. When they were close I said "What's up, boys?"
	They looked down and Johnny said "Oh shit! Good old Nick, man. How are you? I'm bummed we never did Stinson, dude. The waves have been great."
	Hearing Johnny talk about surfing made Nick happy and fond of his old friends. "As well, as well, dude. Maybe we still could. Anyway, what are you two up to today?"
	"Nick wants to hang out with us? Really, Nick? You mean it? I'm so honored," Harry said and he looked at Johnny. Johnny smiled but didn't laugh and it was a little uncomfortable.
	"Nah, Nick's our boy. Nick, you know that. He's been busy but he's our boy."
	"I've been busy," I said.
	"We're going to Rowans," said Johnny. "She's having a big day party barbecue thing for the first week of summer. You should totally come! It's gonna be fun, apparently."
	I blinked at the thought of a big party like they used to do. "Would I be allowed to come?"
	"I can text her and find out for sure, but like, I'm sure it'll be fine. She knows you."
	"In the meantime, just walk with us. I'm sure it'll work out," said Harry.
	"Why not," I said. I threw away my trash and we walked down the sunny street in the shade of the planted trees. Johnny got a text saying I could come. They all climbed into the FJ, which smelled the same as always. I felt like talking and making jokes and it was good to be with people. Rowans was crowded and sunny outside. When the beer was all gone and everyone was talked to we got back in the FJ and drove away in the late afternoon light. "Where are we going?" I said. I was tipsy and warm and happy to see people.
	"You already know where we're going, bitch. It's gonna be just like the good old days, little Nicky! Me and my fuckin' boys!" Johnny was good old drunk Johnny like always. We went to the hill and watched the sunset and smoked a bowl. Then we went back to Rowan's because Johnny heard the party was continuing into the night but when we got there it was only Rowan and Haley watching TV. "Sorry," said Johnny. "I just left my… I think it's, uh, back here…" he wandered into the back yard. Rowan stayed with us and Johnny came back with a black backpack.
	When we got in the car he opened it and pulled out a half-empty handle of whiskey. "Stolen property, boys! Drink up. That's what Rowan gets for messing with the dream team, yo!" He pulled from it and passed it to me. "Whoo!" Johnny yelled. "Dumb bitch thinks she can fuck with us? Not a chance!" He leaned out of the window and banged his hands on the side of the car and yelled at the house. "We'll have our own party, ya hoe!"
	Harry sat out of his window with his hands on top of the car and yelled "Fuck you Rowan!" He dragged out her name.
 	"Oh, this is fun. Fun stuff," said Johnny. "I miss this."
	Rowan came out of her door and stood at the top of the stairs with her hands on her hips. "Fuck you guys!" she said, laughing. "Get the fuck out of here, I'm serious."
	"You know we love you, Row! Stay beautiful!" Johnny said. "Let's go, Harry. Peel out. Peel out!"
	I was enjoying myself and I was getting very drunk from the whiskey. "Should we eat?" I said.
	"I could fuck with some food," said Harry, tapping the wheel while he drove.
	"You already know where we're going, boys," said Johnny. "At least you know, Nicky-boy. Knock-out bell, bitches!"	I laughed. "Talk about a throwback! That was a good one, Johnny. I think you peaked with that joke."
	"Go fuck yourself," said Johnny, grimacing after a pull of whiskey. "How late is it open?"
	"Johnny," I laughed, "It's super early. It's like eight. It only feels late because we were day drinking all day and we got way too drunk."
	"So. So, Nicky," Johnny said, putting on a serious face. "To, uh, to be clear, what you're saying is… is that we're getting knock-out bell, right!? Let's go, bitches!" He cackled and danced in his seat. I had forgotten how fun he could be.
	"I forgot how fun you are, Johnny. I wish we had kicked it more this year." I didn't mean the last part but I was drunk and seemed natural to say and the first part was true.
	"Yeah, well that's on you, big boy. But we're here now, and I'm leaving for, like, ever, so soon, so let's do it big together." He pulled out three beers from the backpack. I smiled at him. "Drink up, boys. On the count of three." We were in the Taco Bell parking lot and we finished the beers and went in. Harry's FJ was parked out front. We ordered food. Johnny tore into his when it came.
	"Johnny-boy, you are eating that crunch wrap supreme like it is your job, my man," I said.
	With his mouth full he said "Well- well you know what they say. It is-" and he smiled a big goofy drunk smile "supreme." He snorted laughing and slurped his drink. Harry and I laughed and looked at Johnny incredulously. Right then I felt fond of this big, goofy, drunk guy who used to be my friend and I smiled and watched him eat. He wasn't paying attention to us.
	I heard the bells on the glass door ring and I looked, and in walked Rudy with his braids and baggy jeans. Two guys followed him dressed in big t-shirts and jeans like Rudy's. I pretended not to notice them and they walked past us to the counter. They were talking loudly and Rudy was making them laugh. They brought the smell of weed into the restaurant and I smiled at that. I never knew Rudy smoked. In front of us next to the FJ was Rudy's car, which was red and had a spoiler on it. I wondered if he bought it with money from fighting and I thought probably not but that I didn't know. Rudy and the other guys were speaking spanish to each other by the register.
	Johnny was saying something and I said "Hang on, man." I stood up. I was wobbly on my feet but okay, and I still had the happy glow from seeing everyone. I went up to the front and said "Yo, Rudy!" I saw a look in Johnny's face as I left but I didn't know what it meant.
	He paused a second finishing a text before he turned around and then he did and said "Nick? Shit! What up, kid?"
	"I'm just chillin', dude. Just came from a little party. I'm wrecked, though. Been drinking since, like two."
	"Word. Well, have a good night." His friends watched the conversation from behind him.
	"I can't believe I ran into you, like, out! It's like, weird to see you outside of the gym, man." Rudy laughed. "And at like, a Taco Bell on a Saturday night? You know."
	"Yeah. It is funny, dude. Anyway-"
	"You guys smoke tonight? Or like, ever, I guess, but-"
	Johnny clapped his hand on my shoulder and I knew it was to help him stand up more than a greeting. "Hey, friends!" he slurred. "How are you gentlemen doing tonight?"
	"We doin' all right," answered one of Rudy's friends who had come back with food. "How 'bout yourself?"
	"I'm doin' excellent. Better- better than I ever been," said Johnny. "Hey! Have you boys ever heard of knock-out bell?"
	"Johnny," I said.
	"What'd you say? What'd he say? Taco Bell? Yeah, we heard of Taco Bell, man. What are you trying to say?" said the same guy. Rudy's face was stern and he was looking at Johnny intently. As I watched him he crossed his arms.
	"No, no, no. You misunderstood, see. I said 'knock-out bell.' It's-"
	"Johnny, Johnny, let's go back to Harry. Really. It's not worth explain-"
	"Nah, Nick. Yeah, I've heard of a knock-out bell, man. What about it?" said Rudy.
	"It's just a stupid joke, man, from like last summer. We should go back, really-" I said, looking at Rudy and then back at the table.
	"Ah!" said Johnny. "So you're the boxer. 'El boxeador.' Mr. Knock-out-bell, that's what they call you, huh?"
	"Where are you going with this, my man?" said Rudy's friend. "'Cause if you going where it looks like you goin' you should maybe walk away, I think." He made eye contact with the other friend and raised his eyebrows. Rudy was still staring at Johnny with his arms crossed. His face didn't show me anything. I looked at the three of them and at the two of us and Harry who was eating and not paying attention. Not a chance especially with Rudy and there was the other reason not to fight Rudy, too.
	"Let's walk away, man. Good idea." I saw Harry glance up at us as he walked to the bathroom.
	"No. No, not now. So, boxeador-" Johnny leaned back onto the counter behind us and knocked over a drink that spilled red all over me and splattered on Rudy's shoes.
	"What the fuck?" said Rudy and he stepped closer to Johnny. The staff noticed and was watching.
	"Oh," said Johnny, and for a moment I hoped that he was just going apologize and everything was going to be okay. "Did I spill powerade on your nice white kicks, man? I'm sorry. Those are nice shoes, boxeador. I'm sure Nick will help you clean it up. Nick, lick the powerade off for him. Go on, Nick." He grabbed my shoulder and pushed me in the direction of Rudy.
	I bumped in to Rudy and said "Sorry, man." But before I was done talking he had moved past me and hit Johnny with a quick jab in the nose. Johnny's neck snapped back violently but his elbows on the counter kept him upright and he lolled there with his head back. I saw Rudy's face looking at Johnny and I saw that it was red and contorted and his eyebrows were arched.
	An employee yelled "Hey!" as Rudy stepped and pivoted on the ball of his foot. I saw what was going to happen and I sucked in a breath as Rudy untwisted, short and sharp, and threw a cross through where Johnny's jaw had been. There was a thud and a crack and Johnny laid on the floor by the plastic counter with the trash cans with his face down and his body twisted like he was sleeping on his side. "Fuckin'-" Rudy shook his hand. "Tell your friend that he's lucky. Tell your friend that he should watch who he fucking talks to and-" he turned and faced Johnny on the ground. "That he should fuckin' respect who deserves respect and not step to someone when they're just out getting some fuckin' tacos, all right?"
	"We gotta bounce, Rud. Let's go," said the friend.
	"Rudy. Rudy!" I said, and I tried to stand in front of him. "He was out of line, man, but he didn't step to you. He's just some kid, Rudy! You didn't have to do him like that, Rud, come on, man, come-"
	He shoved me with both hands on my chest. I landed hard on my ass in the sticky red powerade and I felt my face get hot and my eyes swim. "Fuck you too," Rudy said. "We ain't friends. We never were friends, you clingy little fuckin' weirdo. Stay out the gym startin' now, kid." He spat on the floor to my side. They stepped over me, one after another, as they left. An employee helped me up. My shirt was soaked and red and sticky.
	I saw Rudy and his friends get in the red car through the big window. The friend in the passenger seat saw me looking and he said something to the guy in the back and pointed his thumb at me. I looked away to say something to an employee and when I looked back he was holding a little silver handgun. As the car pulled out he pointed the gun at me and mimed firing it, flicking his wrist back. Johnny was on the floor, a small circle of blood expanding from his nose into the larger puddle of powerade.