Conflicting thoughts swirled like the brine in the bay in Derby's head, addled when Jimmy's knuckles connected with the back of it. He felt his top teeth come down hard against his bottom teeth, grinding with such force he thought it could have been audible outside his mouth. It was only by providence that nothing felt chipped.
It would be a disaster to have to go to the reunion with a dental malfunction or, worse yet, a black eye. Everyone would see him as he gave his speech and wonder what he'd gotten into. What kind of person he had become. He didn't want Bif to see him this way, if he would be there. He wanted to be beautiful and shining and unaffected. He wanted to make him hurt.
But everyone was watching here, now. Their eyes never turned away from him. His reputation was always dangerously close to teetering off the edge and into oblivion with every close look cast at another, every word. Nevermind a thrown punch. If he didn't fight back, he would look weak. If he did, and he l--something went awry, he would look a fool. There was only one thing to do. Fight, and win.
By any means necessary.
It was hardly fair, but Derby never had been a very clean fighter. In some capacity perhaps he liked to cheat, and after all that little bastard was clinging to his back like a koala, and that wasn't in any boxing rule book. He was trying to pull his arms backward, and the pig was strong, but Derby managed to yank one free after he had shocked Jimmy with the stomp to his toes. He could feel Jimmy's hot breath on his shoulder and knew exactly where to jab. He stuck out two fingers and prodded at his eyes to get him to disengage, and once he was loosened up enough to allow Derby to swirl around, Derby raised his fist and went for his trademark skull-cracking overhead punch. He wasn't as shockingly overpowered as Jimmy was, but he was fast. His other arm drew up and guarded his face. Jimmy could do his worst, but nothing could happen to his face.