Mixie Moxie (COMPLETED)

A Part of the Pack

The sun crept up on my face this morning, breaking the beige coloring of the wall and painting it a light cream color. It's brightness was not at all welcoming. I didn't even want to be awake today. I slowly threw myself out of bed, and grabbed my backpack that had been collecting dust. Stuffing my boxing gear inside. Luca sat in the kitchen with his Eggo pancakes, while Zoey continued to sleep. 

"Y'all staying home today?" Luca nodded, not breaking eye contact with the TV. I shook my head, but I understood how they felt. 

Every step I took felt like I was sinking slowly into mud. And the sun beamed on me, all happy and shit. 

For some reason, I felt eyes on me. Everybody was fucking staring, whispering in little groups and passing their phones around. What the hell were they doing? 

"...mix...box...punch....news...." I heard conversations in bits and pieces, but those were the main points of conversation, and the chatter increased once I finally stepped foot in that elderly orange and brown school again. 

As soon as I stepped through the door, it was dead silent. Everyone was staring at me. Teachers glanced in my direction and closed their doors, people in the hallways acted like I hadn't walked in, and whoever I passed held their breath. What the fuck? 

And then I heard it. 

"Mixian beat up Triss." Suddenly it all made sense. That was still so fresh in people's minds. 

"Miss Moxelle!" I heard from down the hallway. Principal Oswald waddled over to me, tossing his arm around my shoulder and laughing nervously as he looked around at the hallway. He walked me to the office while he kept me in conversation. "Good to have you back, miss. Is there something that you need from me?"

"Not to touch me." I replied. The students broke away from us, letting us walk right up to the office. Deja vu swept over me being back in that detective ass office again. 

How I wished I could start all of this over, though it probably wouldn't mean much.

"Okay Mixian," Oswald started, promptly closing the door behind him as he let out a huge sigh. "You've caused a little bit of startup around here." 

"Obviously."

"Do you know who Triss is to this school?"

"The bitch."

"Don't curse. Triss is the head of the school here, as well as her brother Jack. Not many like to admit it, including the teachers and school staff, but their status is high here. And you put a stain on their resume." He waddled in circles around me, clutching his finger to his chin in contemplation. "I would be careful around these hallways. I've seen what those children are cap--"

"Enough." I interrupted, getting up in such an aggressive way that the chair slammed on the floor as it fell. Oswald jolted away from me, giving a faint but not hard to hear gulp. "I've seen what they're capable of too, and I don't care. You haven't seen what I'm capable of. Someone fucks with me, I hold my own, and that's how that shit goes--period." 

Principal Oswald watched me walk away in silence. The signal to go to our next class pierced the air. I pulled my hoodie over my head. There was only one place that I was going--the Kickboxing room. Somebody had to know about street-fighting there. 

...

Down the long grey corridor that stood tall and blanketed by an intimidating darkness, I followed the distant sound of grunts and slaps against sack bags. I could hear my gloves shifting inside my bag, like they were telling me that they could hear it too. With every step, the grunts grew louder and heavier, and somehow I felt more at ease. Part of me wondered if Jack's bitch ass was in there. 

If so he would have a rude awakening. 

"Yo!" I called, slamming through the door, causing everyone to freeze where they were and stare directly at me. I stood tall, firm, and scanned the room for anyone that looked like they might know at least something in this block headed town. "Does anyone here know about street fighting?" 

"Is that the girl from before?"

"The one that beat up Jack?"

"I think that's the girl that beat up Triss, too." 

"She's hot, man." whispers echoed all around my ears, bringing my patience up to a boil. I bit my lip.

"Quiet!" I yelled, louder than I tried to, and everyone shook in their bones. "Street fighting, who knows about it? I'm only asking this once." Everyone whispered as they grabbed their sweat towels, wondering if they should trust me. It got on my nerves. I exhaled, zipping open my bag and slowly pulling out my signature gloves. A boy slightly opened his mouth as soon as he saw me strap up. With a heavy grunt and a slapping sound that startled the room, the sand bag that once stood tall in front of me waved back and forth helplessly as sand bled from it, piling up on the floor at my feet. 

A quiet hum took over the room. All the guys that looked like they had been dead lifting elephants  suddenly made faces like I killed their puppies. They glanced at each other, nodded in unison, and a black, medium set man ruffled his hair as he stepped forward to me.

"Mixian, right?" He asked. I nodded.

"Call me Mix." 

"Well... Mix, we know about street fighting, but we don't know you, and in order for us to tell you, you have to be in our club." I raised my eyebrow. 

"I don't do 'clubs'."

"Then think of it as... a pack." The guys around him nodded. "We need someone as strong as you to help us make a name for ourselves in the kickboxing tournament this year... you help us, we'll help you." 

For a second I thought I was being punked, but the looks on their faces were all dead ass serious. 

"So you want to use me to help you win a stupid trophy?" They all nodded in unison. The black boy clasped his hands together firmly.

"Please?"

"...Deal."