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Chapter 6: Kris’s Decision

“Come on out Hannah,” Kris yelled out, knocking on the door, “Carlos’s gone, you can come out now.”
After a few seconds, Kris heard the door being hastily unlocked, in which he was soon in a backbreaking hug, almost knocking him back over the steps, “did he hurt you, are you ok, where did he go, how did you get rid of—“
“Whoa, ok, hold on, let’s just moves this way first,” Kris said, moving away from the stairs.
“Oh, sorry about that,” she said, backing off and moving towards the door, “come on in, I’m sure your cold out here.”
“I’d better not, I still have to help unpack,” he said, going back downstairs, “plus I have to go to the store, I have to get some dinner.”
“Oh,” she said in a disappointed voice, “well, thank you for coming out here for me.”
“Where are your parents,” he asked, turning back around to face her, “they out or something?”
“Yeah, my parents always go out on Saturday, so I have the whole house to myself tonight,” she said in an inviting way.
“Well, that explains it,” Kris said, bumping his shoulder into one of the lampposts and gripping it as a sharp pain ran down his arm.
“You ok,” Hannah called out, running down the stairs towards Kris, “did he hurt you there?”
“Nah, just his flunky,” Kris said, letting Hannah lift his hand to feel it, “did he always have people do his dirty work for him?”
“Pretty much,” she said, pulling him towards the steps, setting him down, taking his jacket off him and lifting his sleeve, “that’s gonna bruise,” she said after looking at the injury for a few seconds.
And just as she said, it was still red from the drunken blow. “Damn drunk,” he said under his breath, remembering the whole ordeal in the alley.
“Here, I think I have something that’ll help the pain,” she said, pulling him up the stairs towards the house.
“No, it’s ok,” Kris said hesitantly, pulling his arm gently, but following anyway, “I still need to go to the store, plus I have the unpacking to do—“
“Do you want to lift all that heavy stuff with a hurt shoulder,” she said, grabbing his sleeve for a better grip and pulling him inside, “besides, it’s the least I could do for what you did for me against Carlos.”
“Well, fine, but just for a few minutes” he said, finally surrendering to the persistent girl and walking into the house.
“Fine,” she said, closing the door behind him, and leading him to the nicely furnished living room, “just make yourself comfy and I’ll get the ointment.”
“Alright, hurry up though,” Kris said, settling himself down on the chair and taking his jacket off, setting it on the armrest, “nice place.”
“It’s not bad,” he heard her yell from the hallway, “it gets dull after a while though. Ah ha, I knew I’d find it there,” she said, walking back into the living room with a blue and white container of what looked like ‘icy-hot’.
“Is that it,” he asked, looking at the container as she came closer to him, taking the top off and sitting on the couch, “I have of that at home.”
“Just come over here so I could put this on you,” she said in an annoyed voice, yet with flushed cheeks of, what seemed like, embarrassment. As Kris sat in front of her she said, “well, this won’t do much if I put it on your shirt.”
“What,” he said turning around to face a pursed lipped Hannah, holding the ointment in hand.
“The ointment won’t go through your shirt, so you have to take it off, plus the bruise is on the front of your shoulder, not your back, so you have to turn around,” she said finally with raised eyebrows.
“Well, I guess that makes sense,” he said, feeling a little uneven, “but I still can’t stay long, so—“
“Oh don’t be a wuss,” she said, smiling slightly and lifting his shirt a little.
“Hey,” he said, taking the rest of his shirt off, “remember, this wuss saved your a** twice in the past few days.”
“Huh, he’ll agree to take on a guy for a total stranger, but ask him to take his shirt off in front of a girl, and he makes a reason up to leave the room,” she said sarcastically.
“Ha ha ha,” he said sarcastically, putting his shirt over his uninjured shoulder, “I don’t start crap, but I don’t take crap anymore.”
“Anymore? What does that mean,” she asked, rubbing the ointment on, giving Kris a cool sensation from the cream.
“Well, I use to be kind of a push-over,” he said, “you know, I use to just take whatever they threw at me without saying or doing a single thing. It was a good defense mechanism, till it came back and bit me in the a** that is.”
“Why, what happened,” she asked, moving the cream around his shoulder.
“Seizure,” he said dully, “right before Easter. Doctors said it was from ‘stress’.”
“Really? Wow,” she said in a worried voice, “but wouldn’t fighting usually increase your risk of danger?”
“Physically, yes. Mentally, no,” he said, smiling from how comfortable he was talking to someone about it so easily.
“How so?”
“Well, fighting has also been a downside for me, but I figured something that was more powerful than brute-strength.”
“Don’t tell me that ‘pen is mightier than the sword’ crap,” she said, smiling as she moved the ointment around his shoulder once more.
“Partly,” he said, “you see, I was the genius of most of my classes, and as you can probably guess, most of the kids there were jocks or bullies.”
“Of course,” she said absentmindedly.
“So I would make a deal with them,” Kris said, smiling widely now, “I would get them through class, if they would give me their protection. They fought my battles for me.”
“So you had your own personal body guards,” she said, putting the cap back on the ointment, and rubbing the rest in, “how many did you have?”
“About three for each class out of eight classes,” he said, remembering the old days, “but then the new kid came.”
“And let me guess,” she said, getting up and walking to the hallway, “he kicked all their asses, and was twice as smart as you?”
“Half true,” Kris said, picking his shirt up and about to put his arms through until he was stopped.
“Don’t put it on yet,” she said, in a hurried voice, “or else the ointment would stick and stain the shirt.”
“Ok, ok,” he said, setting his shirt back down, “anyway, he was stronger than an ox, but twice as stupid.”
“HAH HA HA,” he heard her laugh.
“But the worst part is, is that he harassed the girls,” he said clenching his fists as he thought of his face, “even the adult women, the stupid pervert.”
“So, how did he affect you becoming what you are now,” she asked, walking back in the living room, carrying two cans of sprite, handing one to Kris.
“Thanks,” Kris said, taking the soda, “well, it was during parent teacher night that he had the nerve to harass my mom.”
“WHAT!?” she yelled out in the middle of a drink, spraying Kris with soda, “oops, sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said smiling, “I got punched by a drunk, threatened by a stalker with a knife, and still have to go home to some unpacking, a little sprayed soda won’t kill me.”
“Yeah, but still,” she said, wiping him down with a napkin.
“It’s ok,” he said, taking the napkin from her, wiping the rest off of himself, “no harm, no foul.”
“Well, anyway, what happened then,” she asked him, sitting back against the sofa’s armrest, “after he harassed your mom?”
“Oh, well,” he said, smiling and blushing a little, “I got so angry that I suddenly thought that I was bulletproof, so I went and tackled him.”
“And how’d that go,” she asked, smiling behind her drink.
“I didn’t even budge him,” he said dully, “you see, he also had a system. His was the ‘if-you-don’t-do-my-homework-I’ll-kick-your-a**’ system.”
“Hah ha ha,” she laughed again, covering her mouth, but still spraying soda.
“So,” he continued, handing her a napkin, “he was the big bulky type that was on the high school football team, in which I had no chance against.”
“So let me guess,” she said, wiping the rest of the soda off of her, “he didn’t even feel you, huh?”
“How’d you guess,” he asked, feeling his face go redder, “and when he finally realized I was attacking him, he just reached around my neck and pinched my pressure point. In other words, he didn’t even try to kick my a**, and yet I went down like a rock.”
“Hah ha ha,” she said, once again spraying him with soda.
“Ok,” Kris said, wiping his face again, “the first time it was funny, second time, it was understandable, but now it’s just getting annoying.”
“Sorry,” she said, setting the can down on the coffee table and sitting back, “I won’t touch it again.”
“Ok, well anyway,” he said, eyeing the can warily, “I asked my guys to train me, and, after I got in shape, I went and faced the guy again.”
“How’d that go?”
“I kicked his a**,” he said, swelling with pride with a smile on his face, “got a bloody-nose, but it was well worth it.”
“So, that’s your story, huh,” she asked, smiling widely.
“Yep,” he said, “that’s also when I decided to stand up for others.”
“Why?”
“Because, I’ve seen enough women get abused in my life,” he said darkly, his smile fading from his face, “like I said, I don’t start crap, but I don’t take crap either.”
“What does that mean anyway,” she asked with a puzzled look on her face.
“It means that I don’t start anything bad with anyone, but I don’t take anything bad from anyone, you know,” he said, smiling widely, watching her puzzled look grow more even more puzzled, “oh crap, is that the time?”
And as he looked at the clock, reading half past ten, he pulled on his shirt, forgetting all about the ointment and headed for the door.
“Thanks again Kris,” Hannah said in a hurried voice as Kris opened the door and walked through.
“No prob’,” he said, almost tripping on the stairs as he ran down the stairs, “I’ll see you later, ok? If Carlos comes back, just call me again, ok?”
“All right,” she yelled at him as he ran down the sidewalk towards the store, knowing his mom will kill him coming home this late empty handed.