Five | 83 days, 20th hour
Three years ago during my first year of high school, I'd unintentionally started a fight. I'd started it simply because they were teasing me – yes. I was in that age where just getting teased at is simply unbearable.
And like that, I slapped her, she kicked me, end of the story.
For some reason I'd been labeled as some kind of delinquent in Regis High that year. My siblings were my only support, but because they were in different cliques, I'd stopped hanging out with them as well.
I know, it's a total bitch move, and even until today I think what I did was stupid.
Well, onto my story, I didn't get expelled since my dad had crazy connections in the school. And another thing is, I was on the board of top students in my year. So yes, Regis High kept me until I was finally kicked out during my third year.
Anyways, before getting kicked out, I kicked butts to live my reputation as they so want it. The people around me loved drama, loved seeing fights – so like an idiot, I did. I started fights. I looked for opponents to kick. I looked for girls bigger than me to beat.
One way or another, I got away with all those things.
I won. I faced them. I became the strongest.
Though during my third year, I felt it was becoming a drag. I stopped looking for fights and instead they sought me out. Still I won the fights, and they kept coming at me but still I thought it was getting tedious.
Until one night during a fight, a guy had come up to me.
I still remember the way he looked at me that night. That one night where I'd almost punched a girl on the nose and it would have led her to the hospital – I rarely did punches like those. He stopped me, told me that it was enough, and asked the same thing I had always been wondering of:
“Aren't you tired of fighting?”
I stared at him, thought he was looking for a fight, but when I went in for a punch, he stopped it like I was some kind of fly. I tried to kick him, I remember how hard it was to reach him since he was too damn tall for me, but I tried anyway.
“Why aren't you punching back?” I asked him after a few more punches.
“You're a girl.”
“And so? I've fought countless of guys before, and heck, they fought back.”
He shook his red hair, his green eyes glistening under the moon. “They're jerks.”
I'd pulled my hand away from him and we stood there, staring at each other. Frankly speaking, he was the first guy to ever not punch me back. But that didn't stop me from slapping him, and he didn't even slap back. Whatever I did, he didn't return them.
Finally I got tired of him.
“Dude, what the hell do you want from me?” I asked, sitting on the ground and cracking my knuckles. I'd only been doing that because I thought it was cool, and hey, it's not. Or so he told me so I stopped. “It's late, why are you even awake?”
“I came to pick you up.”
“'pick me up?” I had echoed in a rather unbelieving voice.
“Yeah, Vincent told me to get you. Said its late already.”
I sighed, bent over, then stood up as I got his outstretched hand. “So you're like, my lackey or something? It's my first time ever hearing my brother wanting someone to pick me up. Who are you really, and what do you want from me?”