Tash McAdam - Blood Sport

Jasons hands wont stop shaking. He clenches his fists, his sisters silver ring digging into his palm, but they keep shaking. He bursts into tears the second the door finally closes.

He can hear the footsteps of the police officer walking away. The same one who came six weeks ago to inform him of his sisters death.

Door closed and case closed. In front of Jason, on the sad, small bed in the sad, small room, is everything Becca left behind. Two boxesa whole lifeand Jasons hope for a future. He is about to age out of the foster-care system. In four months, when he turns eighteen, hell be booted out of the group home. Maybe onto the street. Becca was supposed to be here. Becca was supposed to take care of him. But all thats left of Becca are these two boxes.

Its hard to breathe. His binder must be too tight. His chest feels like its collapsing. It takes him three tries to get his shirt off. He pulls off the material crushing his breasts down flat and throws it on the old blanket on the bed. He feels better, but barely.

Two years on testosterone, male hormones, has changed Jason. Its made his shoulders wider, his jaw bigger and his body hairier. But without a shirt, it is easy to see what he is. A transgender guy. Someone in danger. The staff at the group home know, of course. They take him to get his shots and see his doctors. But if any of the other kids found out, Jason would be in for a world of hurt.

He stands in the middle of the room, his mind full of pain and fear. He feels like hes dying. He cant breathe at all.

After a while the panic attack fades. As he calms down he realizes hes half-naked. It would be so bad if someone walked in right now. Running to the bed, he grabs his binder. The door bangs open before he can put it back on.

Panicking, Jason drops the binder and grabs his shirt. If anyone sees his chest, theyll know what he has been hiding. He pulls the shirt over his head, his back still to the door. He prays for his strong shoulders to help him pass. For whoever it is to see just a boy.

Yo, Jase, saw the pigs came by again. Did they solve your sisters murder yet? The thick voice can only belong to Derek. Jason hates Derek. The guy is built like a monster and has a personality to match.

It takes everything Jason has in him to sound normal. Not yet. Ever since hed yelled at the care worker that his sister couldnt have overdosed, that she never did drugs, not ever, the other teens at the care home like to tease him about it. Especially Derek.

Jasons whole body shivers as he wonders whether Derek wants to fight again. Jasons ribs are still bruised from last time. If he stays facing away, his back is open to possible danger. If he turns around, Derek might see his chest under his shirt.

To his relief, Derek just snorts and bangs back out into the hallway. Jason waits until the door shuts behind him and then rushes to it. He kicks the door stopper tightly into place. Its dangerous. In case theres a fire. Hes not supposed to have it. Theyve taken four off him already, but its the only way he can breathe in this place.

Safely locked in, Jason walks slowly back to the bed. His whole body feels like its full of rocks. What is he going to do without Becca? How can this be his life now?

Dropping down on the bed, he knocks one of the boxes over. It tips sideways, spilling its contents onto the blankets.

The copy of Sherlock Holmes that falls out makes him gasp. It was their dads, the collected stories. When hed lost his job and started drinking, hed started selling most of his first editions. But Becca had taken this one. First it had been in her bedroom, on the shelf by her bed. Then, after she moved out, it was on display in her apartment, which Jason was going to move into once he left the group home. Part of their plan.

The book is light brown, with gold leaf on the leather cover and gold-edged pages. Becca has read it so often that the creamy cover is dirty. He reaches out to put the book back in the box. He cant face looking through the pieces of her life. But as he picks up the book he realizes theres something wrong. The page edges arent shiny like they should be. They are dull and brown, no gold in sight. Curious, he picks up the book. He runs his finger down the spine. The cover feels weird in his hand.

He opens the book. As soon as he does, he can see whats wrong. The pages arent pages at all. The cover of the book has been stuck onto a box. Sherlock Holmess adventures arent anywhere to be seen. There are no pages inside. No stories. Instead there are dozens of newspaper clippings.

Missing girls. Reports of missing girls from the Downtown Eastside. Dating back more than two years. The one with the oldest report has a face he vaguely recognizes. Anna Kerov, one of Beccas friends from work. She was a cocktail server, like Becca. Reported missing in 2017.

Why did his sister have these? Why was she collecting, and hiding, reports of missing girls? Jasons heart is beating too fast. His hands are shaking again. Becca must have been mixed up in something bad. Why else would she have this stuff?

Under the clippings theres something else. A flat white square. Not paper. Thicker. It is wedged into the corners of the box, and it takes a bit of effort to wiggle it free.

Its a Polaroid photo. A shot of a street. Two dark figures standing under a neon sign. Even with two letters blown out, Jason can see that it should say Rays Place. A pair of red boxing gloves next to the name look like they probably flashed on and off.

What does this all mean? A photo of a boxing gym, in a box full of newspaper articles about missing girls. And now Becca is dead. Jason is more sure than ever that she didnt overdose.

His hand tightens around the photograph and crushes it into a ball.