The Mystery Fighter

The Mystery Fighter (5)

The rest of the school day was uneventful and slow.

I tried my best to keep my head down for as long as possible, hiding the permanent glare on my face, but some people were just asking for it. What was I supposed to do when someone knocked my books out of my hands, looked at them and then had the nerve to continue walking as if nothing had happened. There was no way I was picking that up.

I dragged the black-haired boy responsible for the push from his group of friends back to the mess and told him to pick it up. By the dumbfounded look on his face, I realized he was not used to cleaning up his messes.

"What?" he asked bewildered, looking up at me as if I had just told him a joke.

"Are you deaf? I said pick them up. It is your fault they scrambled to the floor in the first place." I pointed to the cluster of books on the floor around us and raised an eyebrow at him. He stared at me with a dumbfounded look for a second before bursting out laughing.

"You're definitely new here." He laughed, soon followed by his group of friends as if they couldn't believe how stupid I was.

I blinked at the bunch, not amused, while they finished chuckling.

One of the friends in the group, blue-eyed and dark-haired, stood slightly shorter than the rest and had refrained from laughing. He did wear an entertained smile, though.

One might even say that they were attractive, had their personalities not been so ugly.

The laughter died down as the boy in the front glanced up at my impassive face.

"You were serious?" the boy asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Why would I be joking?" I gestured to the books still on the floor. "Now, just clean up the mess you made, and get out of my way. Stop wasting both of our times."

It finally rang out, and I looked at him, daring him to walk away so I could show him just how serious I was. This may have been just a stupid little thing to make a fuss about, but I hated it when people thought they could just stomp all over other people without a second glance. I may have wanted to refrain from being involved in confrontations at this school, but that didn't mean I would be a pushover.

"Good God, Chris, just do it. We don't have time to deal with this one. Practice starts in ten minutes," one of the blond-haired friends said, annoyance lacing his every word.

The boy, Chris, let out an unattractive snort before hastily picking my books up from the floor and shoving them in my hands, no doubt wanting the least amount of people to see him do it. I didn't miss the glare he sent my way as he turned around, probably mad at me for hurting his reputation.

I kept my face expressionless as I lazily threw my books in the locker and pulled out my helmet before heading out the school doors. White clouds covered the sky today, not low and dark enough to hint at a rainy day but enough to gather a chilly breeze around me. I pulled my thin jacket tighter around my upper body as a cold gust of wind licked my face. A shiver racked my body as I made my way down the front steps of the school, heading for the parking lot.

Day one at this school done, one year to go until the rest of my grade would be heading for college.

Although college would be a perfect place for me to finally get a degree and, eventually, a real job that could pay the taxes, I still didn't know what I would do with Celine. There were no colleges close enough to where we lived, and Celine could neither live alone nor join me at the campus.

Sighing, I grabbed a cigarette from my back pocket, lit it up and drew in a mouthful of smoke before slowly letting it out.

I usually didn't smoke, as I didn't want to waste money on cigarettes and I knew it was bad for me, but it helped dim down the stress I had bottled up inside of me. I made sure to only have the occasional fix as I didn't feel addicted to it, and I certainly didn't crave it. I just needed something that would dim the worry in my chest.