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I don’t eat sweets during game season, but I order myself a coffee and treat Cyrus to two donuts. One for now and one for later.
He digs in, getting icing on his cheeks and milk on his upper lip. After a long while, he seems better than earlier. I hand him a napkin before he wipes his sleeve across his face.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay,” I say tentatively. “But at some point, I’d like to hear your side of the story. And I’m sure your mom will, too.”
My heart breaks for the kid. I was sixteen when we found out my dad had another family. Shannon, Cyrus’ mom, knocked on my mother’s door, visibly pregnant, looking for my old man one night. I’ll never forget it, partly because it was a few days before my sixteenth birthday and Dad said he couldn’t celebrate with me since he had business in Calgary. Turns out, there were two other women there, unaware of Shannon. Unaware of me and Mom. One of those women has a daughter who might be my sister, but doesn’t want anything to do with us. I’m not even sure the little girl knows we exist.
Cyrus shifts his eyes side to side, maybe embarrassed to talk about getting into a fight today. But if there’s anyone he can talk to, it’s me. I’m the only one who won’t judge him or lecture him.
“Seth and two other guys cornered me in the bathroom,” he says with a sigh. “I thought they were gonna beat me up.”
“Did they?”
“I was just trying to wash my hands. But they kept coming at me, like they were trying to back me up into one of the stalls. And I panicked.”
“That kid in the office. Was that Seth?”
“Yeah.”
“I saw a cut on his forehead. Did you do that?”
I love my brother, but he’s a little scrawny. If he took a swing at that brawny kid and gave him a cut like that, I don’t want to admit I’d be proud, but I am. A little. But I dare not let Cyrus know that.
“I… I swung my backpack at him. And he fell and hit his head on the hand dryer.”
“Did you know hand dryers blow fecal bacteria onto your hands? You’re better off letting them drip dry.”
His mouth curls sideways, like he’s trying not to laugh.
“I call them poop blowers.”
“Ewww!” he says, sticking out his tongue.
“So this Seth guy hit his head on the poop blower. Then what happened? How’d you get that shiner?”
I gesture to the bruise on his jaw.
“One of the kids punched me and ran off. Then the other guy went and tattled to the teacher.”
“Let me guess. Poop-head Seth played the victim.”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
I nod my head, understanding all too well how mean kids can be, especially when they find someone smaller than them to pick on.
“Ms. Burk said this is the second time you’ve been in a fight this school year?”
How did I not know about this sooner?
Cyrus twists his lips. “I got into it with a boy on the playground a while ago.”
“And who started that fight?”
He shrugs. “No one. It just happened.”
I sigh. “Okay. Thanks for telling me.”
I start to clean up the sugary mess on the table.
