The Simpsons: Bart

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***

- Bart, are you going to the club? - one of the guys, whose name I can't remember, so for simplicity's sake, from this day forward I'm calling him Boyfriend A.

- We'll buy you a drink! - shouted his mate, guy B.

- Nah, I've got cleaning to do. - I distracted myself from the push-ups, waved my hand at them, put my thumb and little finger out again, and started the second ten.

After doing push-ups on my fingers, with one and the other leg raised, doing a few jumps back and forth with my head pressed to the floor, I finally fell down and stroked the cubes on my stomach with the sadness of the fact that there was nothing to do without the others, and I strained the iron from the morning.

After lying there for about three minutes, thinking about where I'd made a mistake in today's sparring. Having thought of nothing, I got up, got a bucket of water from under the sink in the toilet, took a mop and started scrubbing the floor, with the mats removed beforehand.

I cycled home almost at night, with pleasant music playing in my ears. It distracted me from tomorrow's test, which I would have to try to write, at least for a C grade. Maybe I'd get to sit in with some honours student. Coach Engle also added to my worries by saying we're gonna have a serious talk tomorrow. I hope he's not trying to get rid of me. Although I've lost all my recent sparring sessions, so it's pretty much expected, isn't it?

Opening the door to the house with the key, I walked into the only lighted room, the kitchen, took a plate of cold scrambled eggs and bacon, put it in the microwave, and poured myself a glass of cold water while I waited. Why do I have breakfast for dinner? The same reason why there's my dinner in the fridge that will be for breakfast. Because of me, my mum had to get up earlier and go to bed later to cook something for me, so one time I skipped a meal by changing the order of the dishes. And eventually, my mum got the hang of it and started making me both breakfast and dinner with the rest of us, even though I have to heat it up at the end of the day.

- Ughmmm. - bollocks, I overcooked it, the yolk's all dried out. Ok, will drink more water today while swallowing dry scrambled eggs.

.....

- Leaving already? - When I was putting on my shoes, Mum had just come down the stairs with her face still awake.

- Huh? Uh-huh. - It's been two years, and I still feel awkward meeting her eyes.

The school I got into was in Shelbyville, the next town over. Of course, there was no bus to Springfield, so I had to get there myself. It is not a difficult journey, as there are no high hills or off-roads, but it still takes a little over an hour, which is frustrating.

One good thing, because of my early departure, I don't cross paths with Lisa. My relationship with her has pretty much ceased, for I leave before she gets up and come when she's lying down or just about to. At weekends my routine is no different, just instead of the other half, I spend the whole day at the wrestling school, and sometimes hang out with Milhouse. And frankly, after everything that's happened, I'm more than happy with the status of our relationship.

I didn't see Alison anymore because I didn't have a reason to. I don't know if she's ever visited Lisa since we broke up. I don't know if they realised their deception had been exposed. Honestly, I don't really care about them. I'm living my life and--

- Where are you going? - I stopped, and I took the kitten across the road. Sadly, as usual, when I do something good, nobody sees me.... Sadly, I didn't catch the eye of some big-breasted brunette who would have immediately fallen in love with me because of my kindness and then clutched me to her naturally large breasts.

The kitten had protrusions on her fur, which reminded me of Maggie. Sadly, I didn't spend any time with her at all either. It wasn't until a couple of months later that I learnt that she had given up dancing and was now taking up singing, before that she had tried painting, embroidery and something else. Of course, I worry about this frequent change of hobbies, though more about the reason for these changes, which may well be quite serious, but....

- She's nine, there's nothing wrong with that, is there? - Yeah, I guess I'm not that kind. Good thing the big-breasted brunette never showed up. Although if she had been in a jogging suit, I would have appreciated the aesthetics of tight-fitting sportswear.

With mixed feelings, I walked back to my bike, got on and made my way to school. The day at which the day starts with.

- You stink of sweat. - Insults from the school's top honours student who jumped the class, a Latina with lush chestnut-coloured hair - Isabella Gutierrez.

- And from you, books. - And how did I stumble upon the new school's equivalent of Lisa? And as for the sweat, I shower and spray deodorant every morning, and it's not my fault I have to pedal for an hour.

Sitting down at my desk, I pulled out my supplies and collapsed on the desk. I have no one to talk to, because even though I'm a pretty good looking guy, I'm from Springfield, and they have a traditional feud with Shelbyville, plus I'm a repeat student, plus there are crazy, not in a good way, rumours about my bullying.

Two years ago, when I first transferred, I was in a state of suspended animosity, and I thought this attitude was even better. But now it's too late to try to get in touch with people who have long ago formed an opinion of me.

- Let me write it down. -writing a note, crumpling it up and shoving it in my pen, I fired a projectile directly into the mole under the eye of the only person in the class with whom I communicate.

Rubbing my cheek and reading the note, Isabella gave me the middle finger. Being two years older than her, I shook my head in displeasure and folded my hands in a heart shape, calling for love for those around me. The finger became two, and no it wasn't a peace gesture, just Isabella raising two hands.

.....

It was time for my favourite class, PE, which was only overshadowed by ....

- Put on a Simpson T-shirt! - shouted by the teacher, at the display of the classmates' object of adoration.

As we ran for a kilometre, the girls' volleyball game slowed down a bit, and most of the classmates looked at me, because I was much more muscular than the rest of the boys. Two years of almost exclusively devoted training had not gone to waste. The only one who was annoyed by my appearance was Isabella Gutierrez. So every time I ran past her, I gave her a kiss in the air.

Since the kilometre run was the last task in PE, and I had no problems with it, I went for the second kilometre. A couple of guys followed my example, rather trying to have a competition, which I didn't mind at all, because running with someone is much more enjoyable than running alone.

.....

The school day was over. I stopped by the cafe to unload some goods for tomorrow's event, getting a free meal at the same time. Sometimes I have to moonlight as a loader and in the mornings, it's not like I don't say hello to my mum, I offend postmen all over the world by getting up earlier than them.

- Okay, guys, who's up for some cake? - As we were finishing setting up the furniture, the men and I looked at each other. - The bride changed her mind, so now we're getting a chocolate one. And in the kitchen, there's a metre-long vanilla one in the fridge.

I took a decent slice for Maggie, feeling guilty about my absence. After which I headed to the gym. I put the cake container in the fridge, signed it with a marker, and walked into a place that is more precious to me than home.

Coach Engle sent me to the locker room without saying anything, making it clear that our conversation would take place after practice. Which ended in a series of sparring matches, from which I once again came out the loser.

- Bart, take it easy, will you? You almost broke my arm. - Although the older guys I was fighting against were cheering me on, I was ashamed of the result.

It was the end of the class, the guys were going home, and I was getting the barbell ready to lift some iron, but Engle called out to me.

- You got your ID with you? - Before the conversation, the coach asked me to bring a photocopy of my passport and permission from my parents. I forged Homer's signature. Frankly, I'm so good at forging Homer's signature, he sometimes asks me to do it himself.

- Yeah. But what are they for? - I was in no hurry to hand over the documents, knowing full well the danger.

- Are you a fool? - at the direct look of the coach, I somehow even became uncomfortable. - There's a state tournament coming up, and our school is sending a delegation. And you'll be one of them, as the best in the boys under 80kg.

- What?! I've been sucking up to everyone for the last few months. - I never thought I'd be in a wrestling competition.

- Yeah, guys over 200 pounds. - when you think about it, my sparring partners have actually all been bigger than me over the past six months. That's partly why I've been putting on the iron. - You know why I'm putting you against them?

- No.' I stared at Engle, eyes blazing, waiting for an inspiring answer.

- Because your technique sucks. - Guys all over the country have been wrestling since they were kids, practicing takedowns and submissions, and you can't catch up to them yet.

- But? - I said after a long pause.

- But what? All, bye, I went home to send the application, and you don't forget to clean up before you leave. - at these words, the coach threw the keys into my hands, still waiting for the name of the reason why I was put against tall or just heavy opponents.

- Did he really quit?! - But never waited, the coach just threw on his jacket and hat, and left the gym

.....

The days went on as usual. I was waiting for the competition to start, which was between Springfield and Shelbyville high schools. I don't know why it was considered a state meet, then? If it was a meet between the two towns. However, it determined the categories of wrestlers that went to the real tournament in the capital, where already gathered students from all over the state. But this tournament was named after someone, probably some wrestler, and not called the state tournament.

In general, this system is a mess. I didn't inform my parents about my participation, because I didn't have time, and I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of them, because I didn't know how it would turn out. It probably won't take long to get to the tournament venue, so I'm sure my performance can be kept as a secret.

The tournament itself takes place over four days, in four rounds, where the next day not only the winners meet each other to move on, but also the losers to earn points and get into a higher category. There are a total of eight matches per day. The match rules are pretty standard - three rounds, the first three minutes, the last two two minutes, in case of a draw an extra thirty seconds. You can't intentionally cause pain. Being sweaty or not removing piercings. The first round starts in a neutral position. The second and third alternate with the opponent controlling the back, the turn is decided first by a coin toss. Victory is decided by holding on the shoulder blades, in the case of a throw for five points, or a breakaway for eight points, well, and in extreme cases counts the time spent in control.

Arriving at the venue, a chuckle came out of me at all the nerves I had had before. The venue was the school gymnasium, my former school. There weren't many spectators either, and there were only two cameras, one in the interview section and the other with the decking out.

Punching myself in the chest, I tried to cope with the pressure and nerves that came over me as soon as I heard my turn for the match. Surprisingly, besides another guy from my school, there was no one else there, including Coach Engle. It made the pressure go to some new level, the spotlights starting to burn my skin with fire, the stares embarrassing.

My first opponent turned out to be a stocky guy a head shorter than me. Coin decided that the second round in control would be him.

As soon as the end of the first round was signalled, I had a new reason to reproach myself. I had spent too much time probing my opponent, who had spent most of the round trying unsuccessfully to take me down by hugging me from the back.

As is my custom, I started the second round on my knees and he started the second round hugging me from the back. We essentially ended up in the position my opponent wanted to be in.

I tried to get my feet in and get up, my opponent literally slumped down, resting his knees on the floor.

Following, controlling his arms, I started to back up, shoving him a little further with my back.

Eventually I managed to forcefully unclench his arms, turning sharply behind him, for I was on my heels and he was on his knees. I wrapped my arms around him, smashed his palms into the floor, and with my knees slid onto his hips, pinning him in place.

He lifted his shoulder blade, I wrapped my arms around his knees with mine, and captured his hand in a grip. Three seconds passed, he couldn't get his shoulder blades off the decking.

- The winner of the first round, Bart Simpson, with a time of 4:31. - and that's how I won my first real match, after six months of losing in sparring.