Bryant: When We Met The First Time

I remember it like it was yesterday, even though it feels like a lifetime ago. It was back in middle school, when we were barely old enough to understand how the world worked, let alone how to survive in it. It was a warm, or you could say hot afternoon, the kind where the sun beats down on your back and the air feels heavy. I was walking home from school, my backpack slung over one shoulder, minding my own business. I wasn’t looking for trouble. I never was.

But trouble found me.

There were three of them. Older kids, maybe high school, maybe just punks with nothing better to do. They spotted me from across the street, and I could see the look in their eyes. The kind of look that says they’re bored and I’m about to become their entertainment.

I kept my head down, tried to walk past them like I didn’t see them. But it was no use. One of them, a tall guy with a mean grin, stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “Where you going, kid?” 

I didn’t answer. Just tried to step around him, keep moving. But another one grabbed the strap of my backpack and yanked me back. I stumbled, nearly fell, but caught myself just in time. My heart was pounding, my hands trembling. I wasn’t scared so much as I was angry. Angry that they wouldn’t just leave me alone.

I tried to walk away again, but they wouldn’t let me. The tall one shoved me, hard, and I went down on my hands and knees. My backpack spilled open, and all my books and papers scattered across the sidewalk. They laughed, like it was all some big joke.

“Come on, kid, where’s the fight?” one of them taunted, kicking my bag away when I reached for it. I could feel the frustration boiling up inside me, but what was I supposed to do? I was outnumbered, outmatched.

Then, out of nowhere, Brendan appeared. I didn’t even see him coming. One minute, the thugs were circling me like vultures, and the next, Brendan was there, barreling into the tall guy with all the force he could muster. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t hold back. Just swung his fist and caught the guy square in the face.

The thug staggered back, more out of surprise than anything else. Brendan was smaller than any of them, but at that moment, he looked fearless. “Get away from him!” Brendan shouted, his voice shaking but firm.

For a split second, I thought maybe we had a chance. But then reality hit. The other two thugs grabbed Brendan, and the one he punched recovered fast. They weren’t laughing anymore. They were pissed.

They started on Brendan first, pummeling him with fists and kicks, knocking him down just like they did to me. I tried to help, tried to pull one of them off him, but I was tossed aside like I was nothing. They turned their attention back to me, and the beating continued.

By the time they were done, we were both lying on the ground, bruised and bloodied, our backpacks tossed aside like trash. My whole body ached, every breath was painful, but I was conscious. Barely.

I remember lying there, staring up at the sky, wondering why Brendan had even bothered. Why he’d risked himself for someone he barely knew. But then I glanced sideways at him, saw the bruises forming on his face, the blood on his lip, and he was smiling.

“That was one heck of a punch, man,” I said, my voice rasping from the pain.

“You bet!” Brendan grinned back, like he hadn’t just gotten the crap beaten out of him. Like it was all worth it. "By the way, I am Brendon! What about you?"

"I'm Bryant. We're in the same class, to let you know."

"Really!? That's a surprise." 

Man... he didn't even know we were in the same class. Well, he's quite the oddball, so one actually ever talks to him in class. And that’s how I got to know Brendan. 

We lay there on the pavement for what felt like hours, catching our breath and letting the pain settle in. My whole body ached, and I could tell Brendan wasn’t much better off, but somehow, we managed to get to our feet. “Let’s get out of here,” Brendan said. I nodded, too tired to say anything. 

We hadn’t gone far when we spotted an ice cream van parked beside a small park. The brightly colored van looked out of place in the dull, gray surroundings. “Come on,” I said, nudging Brendan. “Ice cream’s on me.”

“You serious?” Brendan raised an eyebrow. "I've got nothing on me."

“Yeah,” I grinned, even though it hurt to smile. “Call it a thank you for stepping in back there.”

Brendan shrugged but followed me over to the van. We bought a couple of ice creams—vanilla for me, chocolate for him—and then made our way to a bench in the park. The place was mostly empty, just a couple of kids playing on the swings in the distance.

For a while, we just ate in silence, letting the calm of the park settle over us. Then Brendan spoke up.

“Those guys, they were probably from either the South Gate or East Gate street gangs,” he said, taking a bite of his ice cream. “It’s hard to tell which, though. They’re both pretty much the same.”

“South Gate? East Gate? What’s the deal with those gangs?”

“They’re the only ones left around here,” Brendan explained with a matter-of-fact tone. “My dad told me there used to be a lot more gangs, back when he was younger. But over the years, they either got taken out, moved on, or just faded away. Now, it’s just these two.”

“So, what makes them different? Why are they still around?”

Brendan munched onto the rest of the ice-cream and continued, “I guess they’re just better at surviving. But the thing is, they’re not exactly doing anything good. Just causing trouble, picking on kids like us, you know?”

“Yeah, got a taste of that today.”

“That’s why I’m going to get to the top of South Gate,” Brendan suddenly raised his voice in a determined tone. “The way they’re running things now, it’s not cool. I’m going to become the leader and make things different. Make it fun for everyone, not just a bunch of bullies running around causing chaos.”

I looked at him, surprised by the conviction in his voice. Brendan didn’t seem like the type to want power, but I could tell he had a plan. “You really think you can do that?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said confidently. “But first, I’ve got to join them. Can’t change things from the outside, right?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Well, you’re going to have a tough time joining if you keep punching their members in the face.”

Brendan laughed, a light sound that seemed out of place after everything that had happened. “True, but I saved your back this time, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did,” I admitted, smiling despite myself. “Fine, if you become the top of South Gate, then I’ll get to the top of East Gate. Then we’ll have as much fun as we can.”

“You’re on, Bryant.”

Later on, I found out that the thugs who roughed us up that day were from the East Gate gang. Specifically, they were part of the 3rd generation East Gate. Before Owen came into the picture.

It was during the last year of middle school when I ended up joining them. East Gate wasn’t much back then—just a bunch of kids trying to hold onto their corner of the world. But things changed when Owen took over the 4th generation of East Gate. He brought something different, something the gang had been missing: discipline.

Owen was the kind of guy who commanded respect without having to ask for it. He wasn’t just tough—he was smart, too. He knew how to lead, how to keep everyone in line. Under him, the gang transformed. It wasn’t just about causing trouble anymore; there was a sense of order, a purpose. What I had pictured before joining them was now totally different from reality. They acted like a bunch of friends passing their days together doing whatever they wanted to do. It was a totally alien way of living to me. But even before realizing, I became a part of it too.

Everyone revered Owen, and for good reason. He was reliable, and when he gave an order, you didn’t question it—you just did it.

While I was finding my place in East Gate, Brendan had already been making moves in South Gate. He joined up a year before I did, back when they still controlled the turf. South Gate was on top back then, and Brendan was right in the middle of it. But things changed fast. The next year, when Owen took over, South Gate didn’t stand a chance. The 4th generation of East Gate was too strong, too organized, and they lost the turf to us.

After that, South Gate started to crumble. Without the turf, they were just another group of punks causing trouble wherever they could. There was no order, no real leadership. Brendan had joined up with them when things were good, but now… now it was a mess.

And that’s when that incident happened.

It was a regular day, as far as gang life goes. A brawl broke out between East Gate and South Gate—nothing unusual. But this time, things went too far. In the middle of the chaos, one of our guys from East Gate got stabbed in the leg. The wound was deep, and there was a lot of blood. The neighborhood was in a fuss about it for days.

The cops got involved, of course. It was a big deal, bigger than any of us expected. They arrested some guy from South Gate, claiming he was the one who did it. But then the rumors started flying, and they didn’t stop.

Word was that it was actually Brendan who had stabbed him... yeah, Brendan. The kid who punched a thug in the face to save me. The cops supposedly arrested the other guy just to close the case quickly, to calm everyone down.

I didn’t know what to think. Brendan wasn’t the type to back down from a fight, but stabbing someone? That wasn’t the Brendan I knew. Or maybe it was, and I just didn’t want to see it.

Things weren't looking good in the class either. The rumor was everywhere.

"So he's the stabber!"

"Gosh, he might even come for us next!"

"Better stay away from."

"Better safe than sorry."

I tried talking it out with Brendan, but he too wasn't in his right mind like the rest of us. "I don't need your sympathy! Just stay away from me. Don't look down on me just because we lost the turf this year. We'll get back at you guys next year!"