Chapter 24 Getting jumped is bad for my appetite

Chapter 24 Getting jumped is bad for my appetite
A bit of a heads up; this chapter contains a lot of profanity and violence. please read with care.

Kael’s POV
Knife first; always the fkin’ knife.

I flipped the board up under my foot real quick and yeeted that sht straight into dude’s shin. He hollered like a lil’ bitch, legs buckling, and I swung the shovel low and nasty, cracked that flat metal clean across his ribs. Felt that sht give. Breath shot outta him like I stole his air on purpose..

Baton-ass nigga swung wild. I ducked smooth, felt the air kiss my damn scalp, then popped up and smashed my forehead dead-center into his nose. Pain lit my skull the fk up. Blood hit my tongue quick.
Worth it, though.

He reeled back holding his face like it was gonna fall off. I ain’t give him no recovery time, I hooked the shovel handle behind his knee and yanked that motherfker down hard. Back hit concrete with a meaty thud and a cuss.

Third dude, the quiet, think-he-smart one, waited his turn like he was studying me.
Then he came in low and tackled me sideways, shoulder slamming my guts. Air punched outta me when we hit the wall. Vision went white for a hot second. He was strong as fk, stronger than he looked.
He started tagging me; fist to the eye, then twice deep in the stomach. Pain bloomed hot and ugly. I grunted, teeth clenched.

Brought my knee up hard into his thigh, then jammed the shovel handle straight into his throat, not tryna kill him, just tryna make him choke on his own damn spit. He staggered back hacking.
Knife nigga was up again. Didn’t even see the blade comin’ ‘til it kissed my side open. Blood soaked my shirt fast as hell.
I hissed, anger flaring stupid hot.
“Man, fk－ y’all dead as hell.”

I charged his ass.
Swung Thrasher overhead. He threw his arm up to block. Metal kissed bone.
He screamed like somebody set him on fire.

I spun off the momentum and buried the shovel edge in his stomach. He  folded like cheap furniture, puking air.
Baton fool lunged again. I let him come.
Stepped right into it, took the hit on the shoulder, pain shooting down my arm like lightning, then snatched his collar and drove my forehead into his face one more time. Lights out. Dropped.

Quiet one rushed me from behind, grabbed my jacket, yanking it.
I dropped low, stomped his foot flat, twisted, and brought Thrasher down between his legs.
Not full power.
He folded with this choked-as whimper and ate dirt

Everywhere went quiet.

Just me breathing hard, blood dripping down my side, eye already swelling shut, stomach cussing me out. Little crowd at the alley mouth, students tryna act like they ain’t staring while staring hard as fk. Nobody stepped in. Smart.
Looked down at the three Blackridge clowns groaning and holding pieces of themselves.

I stepped over ‘em slow.
Smack. 
Shovel cracked Knife-boy’s as.
Smack. 
Quiet one yelped like a puppy.
SMACK. 
Baton nigga howled.

I leaned down, shovel on my shoulder, blood dripping in my eye. “Y’all tell Blackridge this alley closed for business, aight?”

They scrambled up, limping, cussing, pride in the gutter.
“This ain’t over!” one of ‘em barked.

“Next time bring more niggas and tell ‘em to aim better,” I said, voice low and mean.
They peeled out.
Then I looked down.

My corn. Smashed. Fked. Yellow kernels scattered all over the ground like confetti.
I sucked my teeth. “…You gotta be shttin’ me.”

Stomach growled loud as fuck. Wiped blood off my forehead with the back of my hand, hopped back on the board, and kicked off toward school, fkin’ up, pissed, starving, still breathing but lowkey dizzy as fk.
Rolled through Ravenhill gates like I didn’t just bleed half the block out.
Board humming, wind hitting my face, blood still hot and sticky under my shirt. Forehead tacky, one eye puffing up ugly. Didn’t slow down. Slowing down hurts worse.

Heads turning. Whispers flying.
“Is that－”
“Why is he－”
“Oh sht, he’s bleeding－”
“Don’t look－”

Couple freshmen scattered like roaches. One nigga tripped over his own damn bag tryna get outta my way. I snorted and kicked harder, ollied the curb, stuck the landing.
Security guard, Mr. Whatever-the-fk- his-name-is, squinted at me.
Then sighed heavily.
“Kael,” he said, rubbing his temple. “You wanna tell me why you look like you lost a bar fight at eight in the morning?”

Didn’t even stop rolling. Just tilted my head, flashed a lazy-as grin.
“Morning cardio, fam.”
He watched me go, shaking his head.
“One day you are gonna be the death of my blood pressure.”
I threw a salute back over my shoulder.
“Then I’ll bring flowers, old man.”

Spotted Ilyas before he clocked me. Leaning on the wall by Building A, arms crossed, unlit cig hanging off his lip like he chill. He was as at faking chill. He’d been waiting.

His eyes snapped to me almost instantly.
He took two steps forward. “Do you have any idea how－”
Then he saw the blood. All of it. His jaw locked. Pupils blew wide and dark, like some animal had just woken up in him. “…who?” he asked.
Too calm. That’s when sht gets dangerous.

I hopped off the board, tucked it under my arm, shrugged like my ribs weren’t on fire.
“Blackridge dikheads,” I muttered. “Shortcut tax.”
Grinned anyway. Couldn’t help that sht.
“Told ‘em bring more friends next time.”
He turned toward the gate like he was ‘bout to go hunting. I grabbed his arm. Hard.
“I handled it.”
He looked at me, really looked. Blood. Swollen eye. How I was leaning off my side. Something in him loosened just a little. He blew air through his nose and looked away.
I let go. Good. Last thing I need was Ilyas catching a body before first bell.
My stomach growled loud enough to be embarrassing. I scowled.
 “And those asholes made me drop my corn.”
He ain’t say sht, just reached in his pocket and shoved a chocolate bar into my chest.
I pushed it back.
“Nah.”
“Take it.”
“I ain’t that hungry for charity.”
“Kael.”
We went back and forth like ten seconds before I caved and snatched it.
Didn’t look at him when I mumbled, “You annoying as hell.”
“You’re bleeding.” he hit back.

We walked to our spot, behind the maintenance shed where the dumpsters block wind and nobody asks sht. I dropped down against the wall, legs stretched out.
I rolled a cigarette, packed weed into it with practiced fingers.
“Got a light?”
He tossed it without looking.
I sparked it, inhaled deep, let the smoke burn its way down my lungs. The ache in my body dulled just enough to breathe right. Ilyas watched me, eyes sliding over the blood on my shirt, the cut on my forehead.
“You should see the nurse.”
I exhaled a cloud of smoke.
“This my medicine.”
He ain’t argue.
Bell rang loud, irritating as fk.
“You should bounce,” I told him, eyes half-lidded. “Go be a good lil student.”
He scoffed.
“And leave you bleeding behind a dumpster?”
“I’ll live.”
He stared a second longer, shook his head, then peeled off. I watched him melt into the crowd, smoke curling up, pain humming steady under my skin.
I had a feeling this day was ‘bout to get way more shtty.
And for some reason…
I grinned.