"Mickey knock it the fuck off," Mandy whispered harshly, whirling around in her seat to glower at Mickey. The boy just smirked at her and started to tap his pen louder against the desk.
It was 7:30, only fifteen minutes into the horrendous class that was chemistry. Mickey had been held back two years and therefore he was in the same grade as his sister, which sucked for him. He already saw enough of her at the house. He didn't want to spend any more time with her than he had to. "I'm being serious. Stop it now or I take the pen and shove it up your-"
"Amanda! What's the problem?" The teacher asked sternly. He stopped writing in mid-sentence on the chalkboard and turned to face her, folding his arms over his chest.
Mandy rolled her eyes. "First off, its Mandy. And second off, nothing's wrong, Mr. Sterns. I've got it covered," she mumbled. The teacher continued to stare, squinting his eyes as if he could see right through her and find the truth. Mickey had a shit eating grin on his face the whole time and to piss Mandy off even more, he started to kick the back of her chair. Mandy's fists clenched and the second the teacher turned back around, Mandy whirled around in her chair again. "Knock it off, shit-breath. Or I tell dad you were the one that took his pack of cigarettes."
The tapping and kicking immediately stopped, Mickey just glaring at her instead. "Cheap shot," he muttered, looking away from her and doodling something on his empty notes. Mandy smirked at him and turned back around in her seat. "Asshole," Mickey mumbled under his breath and Mandy flipped him off over her shoulder.
It had only taken a week for the other students to realize that the disturbances from the Milkovich kids were an everyday thing. Mandy would either be yelling at Mickey or flirting with guys while the teacher was teaching and Mickey would either be picking on the other kids or even the teacher if he wanted to. Bottom line was, all learning that was supposed to be happening in the room was being prevented from the two obnoxious siblings.
"Mickey, we haven't heard from you in a while. Why don't you tell us how to solve this problem," the teacher said. Mickey ignored him, his head down writing his name in graffiti letters onto the margins of his tore up notebook. "Mickey!" The teacher said louder.
"I don't have hearing aids. You don't have to yell," he grumbled.
The teacher placed his hand on his hip and tapped impatiently. "That's good for you. Now can you tell us how you think we solve this?"
A small smile spread across Mickey's face and he shrugged. "Yeah sure, why not. You know the fucking pressure and volume and you gotta find the temperature. So you take the pressure and volume and shove it up your ass." This little comment got a few snickers from a couple of students, including Mandy.
"Hallway. Now," he said, pointing to the hallway. The veins in his neck were popping out and his face was so red Mickey was sure smoke was going to come out of his ears.
"Oh, come on, man. We were just gettin' started I thought," he said, smirking.
"Now, Mikhailo. Unless you'd rather go to the office," he threatened but it wasn't necessary. Mickey rolled his eyes and stood up. He slung his bag over his shoulder, gathered his books in his hand and walked out. "And wait for me after class!" He called before Mickey slammed the door shut.
"Fuckin' asshole," he mumbled under his breath. He dropped his bag with a loud thud and slid down the wall, leaning his head back. The second he did that though his phone buzzed, lighting up in his pocket. He sighed and pulled it out.
Mandy {7:35} : you're a dumb ass, mick.
Mickey laughed, knowing Mandy was joking. She liked it when Mickey messed around in class sometimes and he knew for a fact that he had made her laughed.
Mickey {7:36} : you know you liked it.
The rest of class, Mickey spent it on the dirty floor of the school. Which was actually a lot more interesting than Mr. Sterns class. He got to see a kid get his ass kicked by a couple of jocks, a roach the size of his fucking textbook and two boys walking into the bathroom and walking back out ten minutes later only to have accidentally put on each other's shoes by mistake. Finally, the ear-piercing sound of the bell echoed around the grimy halls and Mickey stood up, cracking his back.
"Have fun, Mr. Sterns is in a shitty mood now," Mandy said, nudging Mickey's side as she walked out of the classroom. She was followed by the rest of the class, a few glancing at Mickey but immediately looking away when he stared back. He picked up his stuff and was just about to take off when Mr. Sterns appeared.
"Milkovich, get in here," he said. He tried to make it sound threatening but that was kind of hard to do so while wearing a cardigan.
"Listen if you're just gonna lecture me about if I were to just apply myself I'd get better grades and all that shit you can save it. Cause I'm not interested," he mumbled in a bored tone.
The blond man ignored his rude comment and went over to his desk. He pulled out a blue sheet of paper and pressed it into Mickey's hands. "Here. Take this and consider it, Mikhailo. I think it'll really help," Sterns said.
Mickey looked down at the flyer. "After school Boxing" it read. Mickey immediacy looked up at him, confused.
"Just read it." Sterns mumbles.
Mickey rolled his eyes and crumpled up the paper, shoving it into his pocket.
"Not into boxing," he said, turning to leave.
"I know you act like you don't care but everyone cares about something, Mikhailo. Maybe this is the thing that you'll care about," he said after him.
__________________________
"So, what did he say to you?" Mandy asked. She pressed her side against the locker next to Mickey's and looked at him curiously. He just shrugged and shook his head
"Nothing really. Just told me I should join this gay boxing club after school. Told him I'm not interested," he said, slamming his locker shut.
Mandy frowned. "Mick, that actually sounds kinda cool. I mean you already like beating the shit outta people, might as well do it in a way where you can't get in trouble."
Mickey gave her a disbelieving look. No way was he doing this. He hadn't actually read the flyer but just from the title, it sounded stupid. It would mean more time he'd have to spend with the kids here. But it would also mean more time away from Terry. And Mandy was right, he did enjoy a good beat down every once in a while.
"I'm not doing it Mandy and that's final," he said, walking down the hall. Mandy groaned and jogged after him.
"Come on, Mickey. It'll be cool. I've got a friend who does it and he said he really likes it. Even said they've got a lot of good boxers, but I bet you'd be the best," she teased, messing up his hair. He swatted her hand away and flipped her off before turning down the hallway where he had to go.
"Not gonna do it!" He called.
"Your loss!" She called back. Mickey just shook his head and turned back around to start walking again only to run straight into another boy. Both of their books and folders fell to the ground and Mickey looked up angrily, staring into dark green eyes and freckled skin.
"The fuck! Next time watch where you're going!" He said, shoving the kid on the shoulder. The boy glared at him.
"I was. You were the one that wasn't," he grumbled as he bent over and picked up his books. Mickey raised an eyebrow.
"What was that?" He asked. Mickey squatted down so that he was at eye level with the now kneeling boy. "Why don't you speak up, mumbles."
"All I said was watch where the fuck you're going next time," he said. This time louder and staring directly at Mickey. Mickey snorted and stood back up, nodding.
"Okay.." He then kicked the kid hard in the stomach, successfully knocking him back and taking his breath away. "And next time, keep your fucking mouth closed." He picked up his books and shoved them into his backpack, walking to his next class.
He sat down and dropped his bag to the ground. Mickey then reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled up piece of blue paper. He bit his lip and leant back in his seat reading it over.
After School Boxing
Grades 9-12
@ Busters Gym ~ transportation provided
3:00-5:30
Buster's Gym was on the north side, right with all the preppy teenagers who thought they were so much better than the south side. They weren't and Mickey knew that. Sure the south side kids weren't rich and most had been in juvie or would eventually end up in jail someday, but there were still some good ones in the bunch. Mickey was practically dying at the chance to beat those pricks up without any consequences. Boxing seemed cool anyways. Mickey would rather spend the afternoons with his knuckles wrapped up in tape and gloved, beating on some loser than have his dad beat on him. It was a no-brainer.
________________________
The final bell rang and Mickey practically jumped out of his desk. He swung his bag onto his back, almost hitting a kid with it as he scurried out of the room. The flyer had mentioned something about meeting at some door on the other side of the school and the bus would leave ten minutes after the final bell.
He walked through the halls, shoving a few kids out of his way before he made it to the door. He was surprised to see so many kids waiting. There was a girl with braided pigtails listening to her earbuds so loudly Mickey could hear them. A dark-skinned boy with dark eyes sitting in the corner, his hood pulled over his head. And then there was the red-headed boy Mickey had run into. He was leaning against the wall, scribbling something down on his notebook but seeming utterly confused with it all. Mickey sighed and stood a bit away from everyone else, leaning against the painted brick wall.
Finally, the bus pulled up and parked by the doors. Mickey bypassed everyone and walked onto the bus. He went to the last seat and took his bag off, setting it on his lap. He leaned back and looked out the window as the other kids board. Mickey was busy watching some dog run around like crazy across the street when he felt the seat next to him move and someone brushed up against him. Mickey immediately scooted away and looked over at the kid.
The boy looked back at him and groaned. "Great. It's you," he mumbled. Mickey rolled his eyes.
"Can't you go sit somewhere else?" Mickey grumbled.
The boy rolled his eyes. "You think I would have sat here if I didn't have to? All the other seats were taken," he said. He set his bag on the ground and opened up his algebra book and notebook. Mickey let out a heavy sigh and looked out the window, trying his best to ignore the other boy.
The bus ride passed agonizingly slow. Every time they'd hit a bump, the redhead would accidentally slide over in the seat, touching Mickey. And every single time he did, Mickey would glare or curse at him.
"Dude, chill out, I'm not doing it on purpose. Maybe if this dumbass learned how to drive I'd actually be able to stay in my seat," he grumbled. That earned him the slightest smile from Mickey. It was more of a twitch of the lips than a smile, but he still noticed it.
Mickey quickly wiped his mouth with his hand and shook his head. "Anyone can drive better than this fucker but still. It's not hard to keep your ass on your side of the seat."
The rest of the ride was quiet between the two. Other kids laughed, talked and threw shit at each other but the two boys in the last seat remained quiet. One studying and the other dozing off. Mickey's eyes opened suddenly as the bus jerked to a stop, causing him and the rest of the kids to slam forward against the seat in front of them. "Learn how to drive, fuckhead!" Mickey yelled. A few other kids laugh.
"Yeah! Jesus dude I can drive this pile of shit better than you!" The girl with pigtails yelled.
Mickey groaned and rubbed the side of his face that he hit and stood up, holding his bag in his hand. "Yo, get up," he said, nudging the ginger's side.
"Wait... I think I finally figure out this prob- hey!" He yelled, looking up at Mickey as Mickey closed the boy's book.
"C'mon. I wanna get out of the seat," Mickey said. He pushed his way past the boy and walked off the bus.
"You know," the boy started, running up the sidewalk to catch up to Mickey. "You don't have to be such a dick."
Mickey raised an eyebrow and looked at him. "Not being a dick. You were just in my way so I fucking moved you out of it," he said. He followed everyone else into the gym and looked around.
It was nothing like a south side gym. This one had one corner that had treadmills, weights, stationary bikes, everything pretty much. The walls were freshly painted white with a thick red strip wrapped around it. There were a half dozen punching bags, a locker room, and a fairly new boxing ring. The gym itself was filled with north side kids, that were now all staring at the south side ones. Mickey felt a small smirk spread across his face, already getting excited to kick someone's ass in the ring.
Mickey snapped out of his little daydream and followed the other boys to the locker room. He glanced over at the kid he sat with on the bus. "Hey, you got a pair of shorts I can borrow?" Mickey asked.
He laughed. "Seriously? After you were a dick to me you seriously think I'd let you use my shit?"
Mickey stared at him for a second before nodding. "Uh, yeah."
He laughed again and shook his head, tossing a pair of shorts at Mickey. "I'm Ian by the way," the boy mumbled, tugging his jeans off.
Mickey nodded. "Yeah, cool," he said. He pulled his dirty jeans off and slipped into the pair of shorts from Ian.
"This is the part where you say your name too," Ian said, pulling the shorts on.
"Mickey," he said bluntly, shoving his bag into one of the lockers.
Minutes later, after a boring explanation from one of the teachers on what to do, Mickey made his way over to one of the punching bags. His hands were wrapped up in fresh, white tap, exposing his tatted fingers. He didn't bother with the gloves, not wanting them while he was just hitting a bag. He held his hands up, moving up and down on the front of his feet before hitting the bag hard with his right fist. It sent a sting through his knuckles, but Mickey didn't mind. He held his hands back up and hit it with his left hand this time, the same stinging sensation returning. Mickey kept going, picking up his pace. His adrenaline surged through his body's, ending at his fists. It was the only thing keeping him from feeling the aching pain in his knuckles.
"Shit, man. You box before?" Ian asked, walking up next to Mickey. He glanced at the boy before throwing another punch at the bag. After this, he stopped. His breathing was rapid and irregular, sweat soaked his shirt and matted his hair to his forehead.
"First time," he said, he wiped his forehead on the back of his arm. Ian glanced down at Mickey's hands and raised an eyebrow.
"You know you can use the gloves they give you," he said, pointing to a pair of bright red ones. Mickey nodded. He looked down at his hands. He flexed and unflexed them. The skin around his knuckles and tattoos were red and raw. He could slowly feel the stinging sensation coming back, his adrenaline going away for the time being.
"Yeah, I know. Don't want them," he said, shrugging.
"Your loss. Your knuckles are gonna hurt like a fucker tomorrow." Ian walked over to a rack and picked up a pair of boxing mitts. He slipped his hands into them and held them up for Mickey. "Let's see what you got," he said, grinning.
Mickey smirked at him. He held his hands up, covering his face and directed his attention on the mitts in front of him. He took in a deep breath, slowing his breathing before serving a hard punch to Ian's right hand. The redhead stumbled back a step. "Shit," he said, shaking his hand out. "You've got a nice punch." He held the mitts back up and gave Mickey a tiny nod, wanting him to keep going.
Mickey punched his left hand, then his right and kept going and going. Ian was now used to his strength and easily held his place as Mickey punched the mitts on his hands. Eventually, Mickey tired himself out. He stopped punching and stood straight up, resting his hands on top of his head. By now, he was dripping with sweat, his white shirt now slightly darker. "You should get in the ring," he said, pointing toward it. "That kid over there sitting on the bench, he's pretty good but someone needs to kick his ass today. He's cocky as hell so expect some shit talk from him," Ian said.
Mickey glanced over to the bench and saw the boy. He was taller than Mickey and slightly bigger. His hair was brown, buzzed short to his head and he had a cocky grin on his face. Without saying another word to Ian, Mickey walked off to the other boy and hit him gently in the shoulder.
"You and me?" He asked, pointing to the ring. The boy grinned and stood up, sizing up Mickey. Mickey, unintimidated stared back.
"You gonna answer or just fucking stare at me like some perv all day?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.
The boy laughed and nodded. "Yeah, sure why not. I'm sure a piece of south side trash like yourself will be an easy win." Mickey scoffed and grabbed a pair of red gloves, sliding them onto his hands. He ducked under the ropes and climbed into the ring. "You're gonna want a mouth guard if you don't want to choke on your own fucking teeth," the boy said, climbing in. Mickey flashed him a cocky grin.
"Yeah, okay. Let's see what you got, north side," Mickey said back. The boy put his neon green mouth guard in and motioned for Mickey to come at him. Mickey put his fists up to protect his face and slowly moved closer to the boy until they were less than arms length away. Mickey threw the first punch. He aimed for the boy's face but at the last second, he ducked and nailed Mickey right in the stomach. Mickey doubled over and backed up a bit. The boy grinned. "Last chance to get a mouth guard."
"Eat me," Mickey said angrily. He approached the boy and swung his left fist at him. Once again the boy ducked and hit Mickey in the face, splitting his lip. Mickey touched his lip to his arm and looked at the blood. His jaw clenched and he glared at the kid. No way was he letting a preppy north side kid kick his ass.
Mickey approached the boy as his adrenaline returned. This time, more of it than before. He threw a punch to the face but Mickey ducked it and landed one of his own in the boy's stomach. He stumbled backward and Mickey took the chance to attack. His left arm swung out and hit the kid on the side of the head. His right arm swung out and hit him under the chin. The boy, stunned from the hits, stumbled back against the ropes. He tried to regain his balance and swung at Mickey, but the punch was weak and Mickey easily swatted it away with his arm. He punched the kid again in the stomach so that he was hunched over and started pounding his fists into the kid's face. He served a left hook into his cheek and the kid fell to his knees.
"Okay... okay," the kid mumbled, blood dripping from his lip. "I'm throwing in the fucking towel," he said, rolling onto his back. Mickey stared down at him and gave him a cocky grin.
"You know, you're lucky you had your fucking mouth guard. Could have chocked on your teeth if you didn't," he mocked. Mickey turned to leave the ring and looked around. Mickey hadn't realized that everyone in the gym had stopped to watch the new boxer fight. The north side kids all seemed pissed, but all of the south side was giving him grins and thumbs up.
"Dude, you fucking rock!" The girl with the braided pigtails said. Mickey doesn't grin or say thanks. He just climbed out of the ring and went to the drinking fountain. He removed the boxing gloves and tossed them onto a bench. He then ducked his head, clicked the button for the water to start coming out and took a long much needed sip. He then cupped some of the water in his hands and splashed it onto his face. Mickey stood up, the water dripped from his face and down onto his t-shirt.
"You know the guy you fought? His name was Chase. He's a really good fucking fighter. Not gonna lie, I'm surprised you beat him for your first time boxing. I still can't beat the guy," Ian said. The two boys now sat on the bus, the same seat as before. "Hello, earth to Mickey," Ian said, waving his hand in front of the boy's face. Mickey immediately swatted his hand away and glared at him.
"Yeah, I fucking heard you," he said.
"Then you could have said something," Ian mumbled. Ian pulled out his homework and sprawled it across his lap. He squinted and stared down closely, trying to see in the dim light. Mickey sat with his head against the window, eyes slipping closed. He yawned and forced his eyes open, not wanting to fall asleep on the bus. He glanced over at Ian, who was struggling on the same math problem as before.
"You're supposed to divide it by the two, not multiple," he mumbled. He folded his arms over his chest and looked back out the window.
Ian looked over at Mickey, confused. He then looked back down at his work and erased the whole thing. He wiped off the eraser shavings and redid the problem, this time doing it the way Mickey had said. Once he finished he stared down at it and then up at Mickey. "Shit, dude, you were right," he said, smiling. "Thanks." Mickey doesn't turn and look at him or do anything to even prove that he had heard Ian. He just continued to look out the window, now a small smile on his lips.
Hey, what's up, guys! I'm going to be posting another gallavich fic for now while I work on my oc one. But don't forget to like and comment if you enjoyed chapter one :)