My first fight

I was in sixth grade
At a school I didn’t understand.
I was in the magnet program,
Supposedly a gifted child.
But there were so many
Not in the program.
Not gifted.
I was white
And a minority.
The mornings before school
Gangs roamed
The schoolgrounds.
I tried to defend
A friend
Who was being pushed
By a much bigger
Hispanic kid
And found myself
Surrounded by his friends.
The same big kid
Who had attacked my friend
Came after me.
I was big for my age
And athletic.
I wasn’t afraid,
Merely surprised
At such aggression.
The kid swung at me
And missed.
I ducked in close
And hit him twice
In the face.
He stumbled back
And collected himself
As his friends roared
Around us.
He rushed me
Head down and wild.
I dropped low
And flipped him
Over my head.
He landed behind me
Disoriented.
I didn’t move.
I didn’t’ want to hurt him
So much as be finished
With this fight
I didn’t understand.
He scrambled to his feet
And rushed me again.
I realized then
That this fight would not end
Until I ended it.
I was 12.
I was big for my age
But I was not violent.
When he rushed me again
I simply moved to the side.
He fell in front of his friends
And grew even angrier.
He lost control
And swung at me.
I deflected is blow
And punched him
In the throat.
He fell, coughing
And crying.
His friends surrounded him
And I walked away.
Knowing the fight
Was over.