“Twilight?” another girl asks hopefully.
“Ding. Ding. Ding.” Mr. McHenry claps his hands together. The room becomes a flurry of groans and eye rolls.
“Of course it’s freaking Twilight.” The guy next to me slouches in his seat. “You realize that only girls like that stuff, right, Mr. M? I mean, come on. The dude sparkles in the sun light. Whatever happened to vampires bursting into flames?”
“Seriously, Twilight is like so ten years ago,” the girl behind him whines. “Why can’t we do something more current?”
“Yeah, like Fifty Shades,” the same girl as before interjects and a few people laugh.
“Everyone had a chance to nominate a title, and this is the one we decided on. If you have a problem with that, too bad.”
There are a few more grumbles that eventually die off as the teacher continues, “So, your assignment for this quarter will be to both read the book as well as watch the movie. After which time you will write a five-page essay on the difference between the book and the movie, and how those differences may have changed how certain characters were perceived, as well as the overall feel of the story.” He holds up his finger, telling the class he isn’t done yet. “But, this isn’t a solo assignment. While one person may see things one way, someone else may see them another, and that class, is the beauty of art. It can mean one thing to you and something entirely different to another person. Essays are due on my desk four weeks from today, at which time we will split you off into teams of four where you will discuss the different points of each of your essays. Then, you will write a ten-page essay, which will include the five pages already written in your initial essay and five more pages covering the points made from other team members, and how their opinions may have altered your overall view of the story. Now, so that there are no surprises, I’ve already randomly assigned your teams. Rylee,” he turns his attention to me, “since you were just added to this class over break, you will be included in the last group on the page, which only has three members,” he says, handing me a stack of papers before proceeding to the first student in every row and handing them a similar stack. “Take one and pass them back.”
I do as he says, snagging the top copy before turning around and passing the remaining papers to the person behind me. I scroll the list of names, finally landing on the last group where only three names are listed—knowing this will be my group.
My heart nearly jumps clean out of my chest when my eyes land on the last name on the list. Zayden Michaels…. You have got to be kidding me. Of all the people, of course I would be partnered with one of only two people in this school who I know doesn’t like me. If his actions this morning didn’t make that perfectly clear, the way he glares at me at the end of class certainly puts any hope I had to rest.
Yep, he definitely hates me.
Awesome.
ZAYDEN
USING MY FISTS, I slam through the doors leading outside, my anger and raised blood pressure making me twitch. Fuck Mrs. Miller and the high horse she thinks she rides on. I’ve got one chance to get into the University of Washington, and it sure as hell isn’t with money. An academic scholarship is my only way in, which means I have to keep my GPA at 4.0. Mrs. Miller knows this. But the bitch gave me a C halfway through the school year because “my essay wasn’t strong enough”. Which is utter bullshit. She just didn’t understand what the fuck I wrote because it went over her head. Now I’ve got to work twice as hard to get my grade back up before the end of the school year.
I stalk the sidewalk that leads to the parking lot. Students clear a path when they see the dark look on my face. It’s a good thing, too, because I’m not sure I could curve the need to plow my fist through someone’s face if they were to get in my way. I bare my teeth at some pansy-dressed sophomore that has the balls to look me in the eye. His face pales and he spins around, scurrying away like a coward.
Once I reach my truck, I open the side door and throw my books inside. I look over and spot Rylee standing at her bright ass red car. My molars grind when I notice Charles Pierce standing behind her, looking over her shoulder at something she’s showing him on her phone. They both laugh, and it irritates me further.
I’d noticed the two of them in the lunchroom earlier, huddled up all buddy-buddy. I also felt Rylee’s eyes on me several times. We won’t talk about how my body betrayed itself each time it happened. Fucking cock has a mind of its own all of a sudden.
I slam the door closed so hard it echoes across the lot, gaining Rylee’s and Charles’ attention. I let both see the ire in my eyes. Rylee pinches her lips shut, and going by the daggers she shoots at me with her eyes, the feeling is mutual.
Good. I certainly don’t need her assuming we’re going to be friends or some shit. Even if Oliver didn’t hate her, I know her type, and I don’t want a damn thing to do with her. Doesn’t matter if my dick thinks she’s pretty to look at and weeps at the thought of her surrounding him.
My eyes move to Charles and the smirk curving up one corner of his mouth as he stares back at me. Up until recently, I thought he was an okay guy. Fourth richest family in the county, but he doesn’t feel the need to flaunt it like most people do. Right now, though, I want to rearrange his face for him
Dismissing the two, I spin away and climb into my truck. Oliver sent a message earlier saying he had a ride home with a girl. By ride, he meant stopping by her house, getting his dick wet, then informing her she owed him a lift home.
My truck turns over on the third try. Fucking starter. It’s needed to be replaced for a couple of weeks, but I was hoping it would last until my next fight.
A few minutes later, I pull up to a medium sized, nondescript building that houses a massive illegal fighting ring in the basement. The ground level, if you can believe it, is a comic bookstore. I didn’t even know those existed anymore until a couple of years ago. Oliver and I were walking home, having just left a friend’s house, when we saw a man barreling out of the building. A big, bald, black dude was chasing him, but the guy was younger and faster. He ran into me, and when I tried to steady him, he threw a punch, clocking me in the jaw. After that, I saw red, swung, and knocked his ass to the ground.
Come to find out, the guy had taken cash out of the register when the owner, Gentry Hart, turned his back. Hart was the guy chasing him. He brought Oliver and me back into the shop when he saw my knuckles were busted from where I hit the guy in the teeth. After washing my hand and pouring alcohol on it, we sat and talked with Hart for over an hour. We came back a few times because Hart was laid back and cool to be around. When evenings came, he always made us leave, saying he had business to attend to. One night, when I was there by myself, Hart showed me what his “business” was. I’ll never forget the first fight I saw in that basement. Or the cash that exchanged hands.
Earlier that day, we had found out that the medicine Danielle takes increased in cost exponentially, but dad’s hours had decreased. The insurance premiums at dad’s job are high, so he was forced to take the lowest form of benefits, which doesn’t include prescription coverage.
As I’d watched flesh meet flesh, blood spew from mouths, and bones break, I knew what I needed to do. Hart was firmly against my joining the ring, but I was adamant. I swallowed my pride and told him my situation and about Danielle’s illness. After what felt like hours, in which time my nerves were banging around in my chest, he reluctantly agreed; but only after stating he was starting me
out slow and putting me against the lightest opponents. Now I’m his best fighter and go up against some of the best in the area.
I pocket my keys and approach the building, the Hart’s Comics sign looking down at me. Some bluesy shit is playing on the overhead speakers when I walk through the door. Behind the counter I spot Hart and head toward him. Leaning against the counter, I cross my arms over my chest and wait for him to finish with his customer. Surprisingly, the comic business, or rather, this particular one, is quite lucrative. Who knew comics were still so popular?
“Hey, Z. How’s it going?” he asks after his customer walks away.
I touch my knuckles to his.
“Same shit as always.” I stand to my full height and get down to business. “You got any fights for me?”