Zach’s bruises are so common they don’t faze him anymore, or so he pretends. His black and blue marks and his mom's permanent black eyes are courtesy of his loving stepfather, Dave, who his mom decided to marry after Zach's real dad died. The rage begins to build up inside Zach until he finally can't hide it any longer. He explodes on anyone who sets him off, no matter who they are.
Dr. Greenberg is the doctor who wants to help Zach find the answer even if it means she has to pry the information out of him, one word at a time. Zach knows if he talks, Dave will beat the h*** out of his mom and then him. H***, it's hard enough for Zach to just function like a normal 18-year-old boy managing life, school, his job at the music store and his not-sure-we-are-boyfriend-and-girlfriend relationship.
It's now or never. Knowing he has Intermittent Explosive Disorder means Zach needs to open up to someone, and that someone happens to be Dr. Greenberg's assistant--his new roommate. Zach hopes she's the one that's going to help him gain control and try for a normal life.
ZACH'S FIGHT is my young adult contemporary novel complete at 60,000 words. I am a member of SCBWI and RWA. Thank you for your consideration.
“Son, take a step back. I don’t want to hurt you.” I barely heard his command over the sirens coming down the street.
Son of a b****, I thought I had this under control. What the h*** tripped me this time? I’d started too many fights recently. I was screwed. Sweat dripped into the scratch just below my eye, and I winced in pain.
“Don’t make me ask you again. If you don’t step away from the boy, I will do what is necessary.” The cop’s rough voice wasn’t as threatening as the words were meant to be.
I sighed and took a step back then looked down at my feet to see who I’d gone for this time. I tried to search my thoughts for the reason this guy won the lottery as my most recent target. Nope, nothing.
The crowd around me was a chorus of hushes, gasps, and cries. When I glanced up, I found myself staring at the net with the basketball on the ground below it, reminding me I was still at school. Oh I’m out for sure now. Great. I ran my hand down my face and felt the scratches on my knuckles where the skin split open.
“What happened?” I asked. The officer behind me chose that moment to take a step forward. The air around me shifted and my personal space shrank.
“Well, I’d hoped you could tell me.” A hand dropped to my shoulder. “Why are you standing over this boy with bloodied knuckles?”