Zachary haphazardly threw his shoes next to the shoe rack and closed the front door behind him.

"Hola, Mama! Hola, Papa!" Not waiting for a response, he hurried to his room and shut the door. He had been eagerly waiting for the chance to try on the vest. He yanked off his shirt, ignoring the mild pain that caused with his bruises and sore arms, and pulled the vest out of his backpack.

Carl did make it thin. So thin, in fact, that even though it had wires and metal strands on the inside, it flowed like any other material. He held it in one hand and flicked it with the other. To his amazement, it became like a wall in the air and then relaxed again.

It took him a second to figure out how to put it on. Carl had invented some weird sort of buckle that was strong, yet just as thin as the rest. Zachary stood before his mirror, admiring how sleek and cool it looked. He wondered how Carl had made it so well and then recalled how he had enrolled in a sewing elective to avoid CJ's gang. Never again would he think of sewing class as pointless and weird.

Then came a knock on the door. Zachary panicked and quickly grabbed his shirt, pulling it over the vest as fast as he could.

"One second!" He checked the mirror one last time to make sure it wasn't showing and then jumped to the door, opening it wide.

"Hey." He smiled innocently at his dad.

"...Hey." His dad eyed him strangely, "We need to talk. May I come in?"

"Yeah, of course."

Zachary still had no furniture so they each sat on a suitcase facing each other. He was nervous. His dad only did this when something was wrong.

"Zachito, when I was your age, I got in fights all the time. I know what it looks like when someone is hiding the pain from the brawl. And every day you come home, it's always a little worse. Now, I've left it alone for a while, hoping things would just pan out and you would fix things, but here we are. Another day worse. I need you to be honest with me, Zachary. What's going on with you?"

Zachary sighed. He knew it would do no good to hide any of it. With a heavy heart, he told his dad everything that had happened since day one. Everything except the vest. For some reason he was afraid to say anything about it. Even so, it felt like a weight fell off his shoulders and his dad listened intently to everything.

"Zachary, it's an honorable thing you're doing, but fighting is not an honorable solution."

"I know, Papa. But what other way is there? What other choice have I been given? If I don't fight, then the others will be bullied and tormented."

"Why have you kept fighting? Why haven't you given up if you keep losing?"

Zachary looked down at the ground. "Because I can't do nothing, knowing that I could do something...anything...even if it only makes a little difference. Besides, CJ deserves someone harassing him for a change."

"But then you're no better than he is." Papa shook his head, "Mira, Zachary. Look at me. If you have to fight, you can't let hate be what drives you. If you're truly fighting because it's the right thing to do, then let your love for the others drive you. But that also means showing love and forgiveness to CJ. Understand? Because then, and only then, will you be able to win. You can't fight for your own sake or just the sake of fighting. But fighting for the sake of someone who can't fight for themselves will never be unrewarded."

"I understand, Papa."

"Bien. Bien. Don't forget that, okay?"

"Okay."

"Te amo, Zachito. And I'm proud of you."

"Yeah, te amo también, Papa. Thanks for...yeah. This."

Papa smiled. "Of course." He groaned as he stood up, "Pack a lunch tomorrow. I believe you'll get a chance to eat for once."

Zachary doubted it, but he knew he needed to believe in himself tomorrow. He flicked his chest and felt virtually nothing. On his chest, at least. His hand yanked back in pain as his finger was met by a unforgiving shield.

He was called Lunchbox that first day because he stood up for Carl. Now Carl stood up for him indirectly. It felt fitting. If for no one else, he needed to win for Carl. And because he knew he couldn't take much more of CJ's beatings.

"Tomorrow will be different. It will be."

Zachary leaned back, forgetting he was on a suitcase and not in a chair. He lost his balance and flailing his arms, toppled backwards onto the ground with a thud. He closed his eyes and groaned at his own foolishness.

"Tomorrow better be different."