The Boxing System: I Became the King of the Ring-Chapter 38: School Days and Birthday Planning

The fluorescent lights made everything look sick. Javier stood at his locker, fumbling with the combination lock while kids walked past in clusters. The stitches above his eyebrow felt like they were glowing under the harsh lighting.

He could feel eyes on him. Quick glances, then whispers. The kind of attention that made his skin crawl.

"Damn, what happened to your face?" Sylvi, short for Sylvester, stopped right in front of him, backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Nothing serious." Javier grabbed his English book and slammed the locker shut. The metal clang echoed down the hallway.

"That doesn’t look like nothing, man. You get jumped or something?"

More kids were slowing down now, pretending to check their phones while they listened. Javier touched the stitches without thinking, then dropped his hand.

"Just an accident," he said, walking away.

Marcus called after him. "Whatever you say, bro."

**************

First period English felt like sitting under a spotlight. Ms. Peterson was halfway through explaining symbolism in Of Mice and Men when her eyes found Javier’s face. Her mouth stopped moving mid-sentence.

"Javier," she said, voice going soft. "What happened to you?"

Twenty-eight heads turned toward him. The room went quiet except for the broken air conditioning unit rattling in the corner.

"Just an accident," he repeated, staring down at his desk.

Ms. Peterson stepped closer, squinting at his stitches like she was reading small print. "That looks like more than an accident. Do you need to talk to someone?"

Heat crawled up his neck. "I’m fine, Ms. Peterson. Really."

She stood there for another moment, then nodded slowly. But her eyes stayed worried as she went back to the board.

Leila Rodriguez turned around in her seat and mouthed, "Are you okay?"

He gave her a quick nod, but she didn’t look convinced. Ashley Williams kept glancing over from two rows away. Every time he looked up, someone was staring.

The clock above the door moved slow as honey. Forty-three minutes felt like hours.

**************

Second period history was worse. Mr. Klein noticed him touching his stitches during the lecture about factory workers. The older teacher’s voice cut through his thoughts like a knife.

"Mr. Restrepo, perhaps you’d like to share what’s more interesting than the Industrial Revolution?"

The whole class laughed. Not mean laughter, just kids being kids. But Javier’s face burned anyway.

"Sorry, Mr. Klein. Just tired."

"Well, try to stay with us. This will be on the test Friday."

Javier nodded and forced himself to look at the board. But the words blurred together. His head pounded where the stitches pulled tight.

Tommy’s empty desk beside him made everything worse. His friend was home with headaches and dizzy spells, leaving Javier to handle all the stares and questions alone.

The period dragged on forever. When the bell finally rang, Javier was first out the door.

**************

The lunch period meant more problems. The cafeteria pizza looked like cardboard with cheese, but Javier grabbed a slice anyway. He found an empty table in the corner and tried to eat in peace.

It lasted about three minutes.

"Is it true you were boxing in the Bronx?"

Anaya Singh appeared beside his table with her lunch tray. Ashley Williams and Leila Rodriguez followed right behind her.

Javier looked up from his pizza. "Who told you that?"

"Everyone’s talking about it," Ashley said, sliding into the seat across from him without asking. "You and Tommy both came home looking beat up."

Leila sat down too, her dark eyes serious. "My cousin boxes. He says amateur fights don’t usually leave marks like that."

Great. Now he was some kind of local celebrity.

"Yeah, well," Javier said, touching his stitches again. "Your cousin probably doesn’t fight kids from the Bronx who’ve been training for years."

Anaya leaned forward, curious. "Were you scared?"

The question hung in the air between them. Javier thought about Antoine’s hands, the way they moved faster than he could follow. The sound leather made when it hit flesh.

"During? No," he said, surprised by his own honesty. "After? Yeah."

Ashley reached across the table and touched his arm gently. "That must have been really hard."

Leila pulled a bag of chips from her lunch and pushed them toward him. "Here. You probably need extra calories if you’re training hard."

Anaya did the same with her apple. "My mom always says fighters need good food."

The simple kindness caught him off guard. These girls barely knew him, but they were sharing their lunch like it mattered.

"Thanks," he said, voice quieter than before.

They sat with him until the bell rang. Just talking about normal stuff - teachers, homework, weekend plans. Nobody asked about his face again.

**************

Dr. Vasquez was waiting outside the school building when the final bell rang. This was unusual. She normally sent the van or had Grey pick up stragglers.

"How was your day?" she asked, falling into step beside him.

"Weird. Everyone keeps staring."

"Teachers called. They’re concerned about your focus."

Javier kicked a loose piece of concrete down the sidewalk. "I’m fine. Just tired."

They walked instead of getting in her car. Brooklyn afternoon traffic honked and rumbled around them, but Dr. Vasquez seemed in no hurry.

"Your birthday’s next week," she said after a few blocks. "Eighteen. That changes things."

"How?"

"Legally, you become an adult. You’ll have to leave the group home, but I’m arranging an extension until you turn nineteen. That gives you time to finish school and get things sorted out."

The words hit harder than expected. He’d known this was coming, but hearing it out loud made it real.

"What happens then?"

"We help you find your own place. Job training if you need it. College applications if you want." She glanced at his face. "Or maybe a boxing career if that’s where your path leads."

A year felt like forever and no time at all.

**************

Carlos was practically bouncing when they walked into the group home. He sat at the common room table with his phone pressed to his ear, grinning like he’d won the lottery.

"Medical exam passed!" he announced as soon as he hung up. "They cleared me for Madrid!"

David looked up from his homework. "When do you leave?"

"March 10th. Five days earlier than planned. They want me there for spring training."

The younger kids started chattering excitedly. Kevin pumped his fist in the air. Marcus whistled low and impressed.

But Javier noticed the older residents. Their smiles looked forced. Tommy would have been crushed to miss this news.

"Man, we’re gonna miss you," Kevin said, and his voice carried real sadness.

Carlos’s grin faltered for just a second. "I’ll miss you guys too."

Nobody mentioned that he’d be gone before anyone really had time to process it. Five weeks felt like nothing now.

**************

Mrs. Rodriguez cornered Javier during dinner cleanup. She handed him a dish towel and kept her voice low.

"Eighteen’s a big birthday. What do you want to do?"

"Nothing special. Just cake like everyone else gets."

"Dr. Vasquez wants to talk to you about your future. Adult stuff." She paused, studying his face. "Are you ready for that?"

Javier dried a plate slowly and carefully. "Do I have a choice?"

"Not really. But we’ll help you figure it out."

David appeared at his elbow with sticky fingers. "Can we get ice cream too? For your birthday?"

"I’ll make you a card!" Kevin added from across the kitchen.

Simple promises that meant everything.

Later that night, Javier found Carlos sitting on his bed, staring at something on his phone screen. The excitement from earlier was gone, replaced by something quieter and more complicated.

"You okay?" Javier asked, settling on the edge of his own bed.

"Yeah, just... this is really happening. Leaving everyone."

"You’ll do great in Madrid."

Carlos set his phone down and looked around the dormitory. Sixteen other beds, sixteen other stories, most of them ending with aging out and struggling to make it alone.

"What if I don’t?" Carlos said quietly. "What if I’m just good enough for high school soccer?"

The question hung between them like smoke.

"Do you ever think about what happens if boxing doesn’t work out?" Carlos continued.

Javier touched his stitches. "All the time. But I can’t think about that and train hard at the same time."

"That’s probably smart."

They sat in comfortable silence, two kids trying to figure out futures that felt too big and too uncertain. Outside their window, Brooklyn hummed with its usual night sounds.

Most of the dormitory was asleep when Carlos whispered across the darkness.

"You think Tommy’s really okay?"

"He’s tougher than he looks."

"Being tough doesn’t help with brain injuries."

Javier listened to Tommy’s restless breathing three beds over. His friend had been tossing and turning for an hour, occasionally muttering words that didn’t make sense.

"He’ll be fine," Javier said, but uncertainty crawled up his spine.

His phone buzzed with an incoming call. Miguel’s name appeared on the screen.

"How are you feeling, kid?" Miguel’s voice sounded tired.

"Okay. School was weird. Everyone keeps asking questions."

"That’s gonna happen. You proved you belong there."

"Tommy can’t train for two weeks."

"Good. Brain injuries aren’t something to mess with." Miguel paused. "You rest up too."

"I feel fine."

"That’s what they all say. See you when you’re ready."

The call ended, leaving Javier staring at the dark ceiling. His stitches itched, but Mrs. Rodriguez had made him promise not to touch them.

Tomorrow meant more stares at school. More questions he didn’t want to answer. But at least Tommy was okay. At least they hadn’t quit.

For a brief moment, something flickered by the window. A shape that might have been Vicente, or might have been shadows from passing cars. When Javier blinked, it was gone.

He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, listening to the familiar sounds of seventeen boys breathing in the darkness. Soon there would be sixteen. Then, if everything went right, fifteen.

Growing up meant leaving. There was no way around it.

But tonight, they were all still here. All still family, even if it was temporary.

That had to be enough.