I'll Fight for You

CLAIRE

School. It’s like a jail for kids aged six to eighteen. Seriously, whoever came up with the idea of kids waking up at six in the morning for school must have been on something.

I groaned, rolling over to shut off my irritating alarm clock—it was time to get ready for school.

I turned on the shower, ready to wash off yesterday’s grime from the fights. Nancy had informed me that I had another fight scheduled for Tuesday, this time with Nick Ross.

Nick Ross is Blake’s best friend. They’re always together at school. Now, I’m just trying to decide if I should go easy on him.

I’ve always wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face. Maybe this time he’ll leave the ring without his usual smile.

I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the shower. The water droplets hit my skin, soothing my tense shoulders. I closed my eyes, wondering what the day would bring.

All my teachers actually like me. I guess I’m the teacher’s pet. I always turn in my homework on time and get straight As in my classes.

I usually just sit in the back and do my work. Sure, I hear the names they call me, but I tune them out. I channel my anger into my fists and energy on fight days. It’s a good way to let off steam.

When my skin started to wrinkle, I turned off the shower and stepped out, wrapping a towel around my shivering body.

I pulled on pale blue skinny jeans, a black sweatshirt, and a grey tank top. I slipped on my only pair of shoes, purple Converse.

I tied my light brown hair into a messy bun, grabbed my bag, and headed out the door.

I walked to school. I could take the bus, but I can only control my temper for so long. Besides, it’s only a ten-minute walk to school.

It was a chilly morning on November 19th, but the cool air on my face was refreshing. It gave me a burst of energy for the day ahead.

I walked the ten minutes to school and went in. As usual, I got the disgusted looks from my classmates. I shrugged it off, ignoring the usual nasty comments.

“She’s such a freak. No wonder she’s single,” I heard Ashley, the popular cheerleader who despises me, whisper to one of her friends. She made sure I could hear her.

And you’re such a slut. No wonder you have herpes, I wanted to snap back, but I remembered I don’t talk much at school. So, I bit my tongue and headed to my first class: Chemistry. It’s one of my favorites.

I walked into class early, as usual, and set my bag down, sliding into my seat in the back. Mr. West was always grading papers when I walked in.

“Morning, Ms. Walker,” Mr. West greeted, not looking up from his papers. Mr. West is in his late thirties with dark brown hair and brown eyes.

He’s not exactly thin, but he’s not really overweight either. He’s somewhere in the middle. He wears a suit to class almost every day.

He’s married with three kids: two overprotective sons and a younger daughter. He’s generally easygoing, but he has his days. And he loves talking about his family any chance he gets.

“Morning, Mr. West,” I replied with a smile. The teachers know I can talk. They also know about the bullying, but since I don’t ask for help, they can’t do anything.

But they always try to make sure I’m comfortable, which is why they let me work alone on projects—sometimes.

Group projects are designed to help students get comfortable working with others.

Being a “teacher’s pet” has its perks sometimes.

Just as the bell rang, Blake walked into class. He was wearing a tight black shirt with a leather jacket, faded blue jeans, and black Jordans, his usual outfit.

His hair always looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. I’ll admit, he’s more attractive than most guys here, but I see past that. I see the arrogant, player, cocky jerk that he is.

Looks can be deceiving. But I also know that beneath the facade he puts on every day, he’s just like Ashley: all talk and no action.

The only seat left was next to me. I didn’t even glance at him as he slid into the desk next to me.

Every now and then, I could feel his eyes on me, but I ignored him. I focused on Mr. West’s lesson.

As soon as the bell rang, I jumped up and hurried to my next class: Anatomy, with Mrs. Wilson.

When lunchtime came, I was out of my seat and practically running out the school doors. You can eat lunch inside or outside.

Or, you can go out and buy something from a fast-food place, but you have to be back on time.

I usually skip lunch and go outside to sit under my favorite tree. I pulled out my iPhone and turned on the song “Fight for You” by Jason Derulo.

It’s one of my favorites—despite the odd lyrics and cliché title. It’s catchy. I started mouthing the lyrics while replying to messages.

I rolled my eyes and texted her back.

Her constant pleas for me to stop boxing before I end up dead or in the hospital were getting a bit annoying, but I knew she meant well.

I sat on a large rock by a tall, thick tree and looked up at the sky. The sun was shining and a cold wind swept across my face, turning my nose and cheeks a rosy pink. There wasn’t a cloud in sight.

The small patch of woods I was in stretched for five more miles to the north. After that, it was just an endless road.

The once-green leaves on the trees were now turning autumn colors. Most of the leaves were already orange, red, and yellow.

Leaves covered the dying grass below, and rocks of all sizes littered the ground.

I closed my eyes, my lips parting to softly sing along to the lyrics. Honestly, I knew I had a good voice. Maybe not perfect, but it wasn’t the worst—at least to me.

As the last notes of the song faded, I heard the soft rustle of leaves. I stopped the music and spun around, scanning the area for any sign of an animal or another person.

Seeing no one, I shrugged it off and hopped off the rock. I grabbed my iPhone and started back towards the school. I had three minutes left before the lunch bell rang.

Plus, I had an extra four minutes to get back to class. So, I had plenty of time to make it without being late.

***

When the final bell rang, I was on my way to the gym.

I had seven fights lined up for tomorrow that I needed to prepare for. Especially for Nick Ross. I knew he was a decent fighter, but I’d never seen him in action, so I didn’t really know what I was up against.

Nick was built and muscular, much like Blake. They were both the bad boys and jocks of the school. Even though Nick had a bit more of a reputation than Blake, it didn’t make a difference.

In this school, if you crossed either of them, you’d either deeply regret it or end up with a broken bone or a tarnished reputation.

I’d finished my homework during my free period so I could spend the rest of the night practicing. I caught Blake’s curious glance as he and Nick left class together.

I shot Nick a quick, knowing smirk before I hurried out of there and towards the gym. Tomorrow is definitely going to be a night filled with pain and memories!