Chapter 1 1: The witch

I have always been disliked by my peers. Sure, no one is bold enough to walk up to me and express their dislike but it’s evident in their behaviours. The looks, the snickers or low tunes when I pass by. But they never say it to my face. Well, Olivia tries, she has always been the bold one. I don’t expect her to change but I can handle her. After all, it’s her fault we are no longer friends, if only she had kept it in her pants. A tug on my shirt snaps me out of my musing, the reflection of my one and only best friend in the whole world appears on my car window and I turn around with a big smile. Her high-pitched scream has me plugging my fingers into my ears, she throws her arms around me in excitement and I return the hug with a slight eye roll, acting like I didn’t miss her. She jabs my sides with a scowl, I return the favour. “Holla,” she says in her beautiful Spanish accent, switching into Spanish like I understand the language. I wait for her to finish talking but the thing with Maria is this—she never stops talking. You have to cut her off so that’s exactly what I do. I throw an arm around her shoulders. “Maria. How was the party?” Some boy from our school hosted a party last night to welcome everyone to the new semester and in Maria’s book, you never say no to a cute boy who asks nicely. In my book, you say no to every boy. High school isn’t for relationships, it’s that period of your life you are forced to endure so you do your best to get by. Stay unnoticed. She shakes her head and shrugs my hand off her shoulders, dragging me away from my car and into the direction of the door. I hesitate at the front door, Maria takes a step forward and stops. “Tessa?” She turns to me, I shrug. See, Maria is very pretty. With her waist length blond hair, honey eyes, smooth accent, banging body and beautiful heart, that cheerleader is the kind of person everyone wants to be friends with. And then, you have me. Cool Tessa. I mean, I am a sight for sore eyes, that’s what mum says. If I can try to wear something outside black T-shirts, skinny jeans and sneakers, I’ll look excellent. Sometimes, I think she’s disappointed at the fact her only daughter isn’t following her path of fashion. My mum is a fashionista. “Theresa Mower!” Maria snaps her fingers in my face and my eyes flicker to her. I offer her a sheepish grin, widen my big, brown eyes into what I hope is a puppy-eyed look and she pinches my nose, baring her teeth at me when I try to protest. Placing her hands on her waist, she says, “This is a new session, we promise to try and socialise more, right? We have one more year to go, let’s make the best of it.” I nod. By we, she means me alone because she’s a social butterfly and I am that friend who will rather spend her weekend binge-watching old movies. She tucks her hand into the crook of my elbow and pulls me to stand on the stairs with her. I am only two inches taller than she is but her heels already took care of the height difference. She pushes the door open, I close my eyes, take a deep breath and step in. The corridors are quiet as we stroll in, I make sure to stay beside Maria as we head for our lockers. When I’m with her, people seldom glance my way, all attention is focused on her. I can always handle myself but it feels good to have her around me in the mornings since we don’t have any class together. It’s too silent. And the silence unnerves me, it’s not normal. Broadway Heights is filled with different categories of teenagers. The good, the bad, the ugly and the evil so silence on a Friday morning should worry anyone. And it bothers me. Even Maria. She retrieves her phone from her bag, I laugh on seeing the big fluffy ears attached to the case of her iPhone. She calls it a fashion statement, I call it a miss. I know she’s searching Broadway Gossip site. It’s a gossip blog run by an anonymous person. My guts tell me it’s Olivia, the whole thing reeks of her—the pink themes, boring interface and girly designs but no one knows for sure. The blog is only good for two things; ruining the reputations of Broadway Heights students or updating us on the latest gist. I pause in front of my locker, waiting for the latest update and Maria’s brows furrow as she continues swiping on her screen. I can easily pull out the Samsung phone I got on my last birthday but no, I’ll pass. I made a decision to stay away from that blog after they shared a student’s nude. I can always get whatever information I need from Maria, she’s ever willing to share. “There’s a video of Nate dancing on a pole,” Maria says with a laugh. She pushes her phone in front of my face, I grimace at the video of the shirtless boy that appears on her screen. He is drunk, he has to be. No way will a sane boy be grinding on a stick or kissing it with such passion. Ew. “He’s so shameless.” Nate is one of many familiar faces I can’t place a finger on. Definitely one of the school jocks, look at that body. I nod and return her phone. For sure, he attends my school but we are not friends so he’s none of my business. My focus returns to my locker, my first class is AP Calculus so I need to retrieve the textbook. I have no idea why I’m in that class. But on the plus side, none of the cheerleaders offer the subject with me so it makes it bearable. Put me in a class far away from Olivia and I’ll be fine for the day. I open my locker, a smile slips to my lips at the picture glued to the door. It’s a picture of me and Maria. I’m standing with my legs apart, arms crossed on my flat chest, body tilted to one side with a massive scowl on my face while Maria is being Maria. Her usual diva self with the most blinding smile, model like pose and her black bodycon gown. I must have been trying to prove a point to my mother, why else would I wear a tux to prom? Admittedly, my fashion sense is dead but I hate tuxes. Skinny jeans please. Maria made us take that picture. Maybe to have something to laugh about or simply for the memories. Liv—Olivia and I were still friends, her picture used to be beside this but I guess old things have passed away. I will never admit it to Maria but this is one of my favourite pictures of us from sophomore year. My hands locate the textbook, I’m still smiling at the memories from the party, how I embarrassed us with my horrible dancing skills when someone rams into me from behind. Everything stops. A sharp pain spreads to my shoulder, my forehead connects with the metal bar and stars dot my vision for a second. I hear Maria’s sharp intake of breath. “Are you blind?” she screams at the person behind us and I spin, ready to punch the demon who shoved me into outer space when I see who it is and my throat dries up. The witch. The witch is here.

Chapter 2 2: Sorry

“Oops,” Olivia says with a fake smile glued to her lips, straightening her frilly jacket with so many feathers on the collar I can’t help but wonder how she breathes in it. Mum used to like her, they share similar tastes. I push that memory out of my mind, me and Liv are done. “Sorry. I didn’t see you there.” Giggles come from behind her, I cock my head to the side and I see the girls. Her friends, minions, name it, that’s them. Four of them. Charlotte. Riley. Chloe and Zoey, the only twins at our school. They follow Liv around like their lives depend on it. They are not like the usual minions, they genuinely care about their master. Massaging my stiff shoulders, I turn to my locker, reminding myself to ignore her. She hates being ignored more than anything else in the world but Maria does not take kindly to my silence. “Of course you didn’t see her, you blind bat.” I stifle a laugh as I retrieve my notes, shoving them into my backpack. These girls better beware, Maria is good with her mouth, I am good with my fists. As much as I don’t want to start the new session with a suspension or detention, I will not hesitate to throw a good right hook if the situation demands. I adjust the bag sliding off my shoulder and tap Maria, breaking her stare-off with the witch and her minions. She throws me an annoyed look, I motion to the empty hallway. Sometimes, my calmness irritates her. But the bell will go off soon, we can’t afford to be late because of them, they are not worth our time. Olivia blocks our path, her minions stand on each side of her to form a barrier to keep us in. I place a hand on my waist and drum my foot into the tiles, it’s too early for this nonsense. A sly smile takes over Olivia’s lips, she can tell I’m getting agitated, she wants me to lose it. Witch. Her gaze darts between me and Maria and I release another sigh. Sighing seems to be all I’ve been doing since they walked in here. “Mother Theresa,” she says while batting her fake lashes, “aren’t you mowing for us today?” I roll my eyes, maybe I can start by plucking out her lashes. She pouts. “No?” Dumbass. The joke stopped being funny long ago. Yes, my last name is Mower but her joke is lame and that’s why only her minions laugh. A second passes, my jaw ticks but I keep still and she arches a perfect blonde brow. Drama queen, not today. I have a fight to prepare for, I can pretend my opponent is Olivia while beating the shit out of him. With that in mind, I push past her, yelping when someone pulls me back by my hair. My hair isn’t as long or thick as Maria’s or Olivia’s but I take good care of it and it hurts like hell when someone drags it without care and I make that point known with a dirty slap across the cheek of the blonde culprit. Olivia gasps, Maria freezes, a hush falls on the corridor and I facepalm. This morning was supposed to go smooth but Olivia had to be herself. I wince at the glare she levels me, with her platform heels, she towers over everyone. Her hand slowly goes to touch her cheek which is fast turning red, Maria snaps out of her trance to stand beside me as if to say: If you try anything funny we will do it again, this time, we will double the slaps. But I won’t let that happen. Maria loves being a part of the cheerleading squad and Olivia is the captain, she has much to lose and well, I don’t. I don’t partake in any sports outside PE. An apology hangs on the tip of my lips but I swallow it. She deserved that slap. Not only her, all five of them but I’ll keep my hands to myself for the rest of today. Her minions are still dazed, their identical blonde hairstyles and outfits makes it harder to tell them apart but they keep blinking like they can’t believe I slapped their leader. Charlotte glares as I bend to pick my bag, I wink. That will teach them not to mess with me again. Tugging on the sleeve of a shocked Maria, I start for my first class of the day. “I can’t believe you did that,” Maria mutters. Shock colours her voice, I giggle as we take a turn by the right and see a row of doors. Her class is before mine. “You slapped Olivia. You slapped the Queen B.” Maria’s hand slightly trembles as she says the last part, I reply in an accent I must have picked from a movie, “Who made her the queen? She’s no queen of mine.” She snorts, we stop in front of her class. The door is locked so she doesn’t go in yet. We hug. “You coming for lunch?” Her mum packs the most delicious lunch for her and she doesn’t have to eat cafeteria food like the rest of us. She nods. “See ya.” As soon as Maria disappears, I tighten my hold on my bag and look around. I might have been within my rights to slap the Queen of Broadway Heights but Maria called her the Queen for a reason, she will try to get revenge. I’m screwed. No, I’m not. I will be prepared. I have to, this fighter isn’t going down easy. I slap my forehead with a sigh, how prepared can I possibly be in a school where everyone listens to her? Ah, fuck. I know things never go according to plan but it’s falling to pieces right at the beginning. The plan was simple: Be the best friend I’ve always been to Maria, try to make sure she forgets about our dumb bucket list and live out the rest of the school year without any drama but look at me now. The whole place is silent as I resume walking, my heart beats so fast I have to take deep breaths. I make the short journey to my class with my hand balled into a fist, ready to strike should there be another attack. Thankfully, there is none, I arrive in front of my class, safe and sound. The voice of the Calculus teacher is audible from outside, I work up a quick lie in case I need one and push the door open. Mr Sam doesn’t notice me, he’s so focused on the algebraic equation on the board and I tiptoe to my seat. Only now, there’s one problem. Someone is on my seat. And that someone is Benjamin. Benjamin Carter. Blue eyes, black hair casually falling over his forehead and sexy body. The hottest boy in my school is on my seat. I mentally fan myself. Mr Sam clears his throat, I force a smile on my lips and slide into the seat beside Ben. He doesn’t acknowledge me. Of course he won’t, I am not in his league. He acknowledges girls like Maria, Olivia and her minions, not a girl who’s so tall and skinny, she will easily pass for a boy. Once for Halloween, I wore a cropped wig and everyone was convinced I was Hayden, my hot sexy elder brother but they had one question though. When did Hayden lose so much weight? Good times. I shouldn’t be bothered Ben is ignoring me, I don’t need the attention, but I am. Why? Because he’s on my seat, the desk pressed against the wall by the window. Our classroom is sectioned into rows, with a reasonable gap between each desk. I always take my place there so I can have a distraction when the class gets boring and it is bound to. Mr Sam is a good teacher but I’m an easily distracted student. I catch Ben doodling on his jotter. What’s he even doing in my class? Since when do jocks attend advanced classes? Mr Sam drones on and on, the boredom sets in and I snap. “You are on my seat,” I say through gritted teeth. Ben barely spares me a look. He pulls out his phone, curiosity takes over me and I strain my neck to get a glimpse of the video playing on his screen but he twists his body so I see nothing. “Benjamin.” Twisting his head in my direction, his eyes fall on my hand which I hide under my desk. He smirks. “Hey.”

Chapter 3 3: Be quiet

Breathe, Tessa. Breathe. It’s just hey. I know it’s a simple word but it’s coming from him and that makes all the difference. I feel my cheeks heating up under his stare and avert my gaze to the board. Holy cow. Ben spoke to me. Now is really a good time to fan myself. Hold on, what’s wrong with me? I need to get a grip. I don’t do boys. High school isn’t for dating. I fiddle with the pendant on the necklace Hayden gave me. It’s my good luck charm, I wear it everywhere, even in the ring. The coldness of the necklace pressed against my palm manages to calm my thoughts, I forget Ben for a second and focus on the formula  on the board. Mr Sam is explaining the formula, saying something about a pentagon. Or was it a hexagon? Whatever it was, it ends with a gon. Ben nudges me with his foot twice, for some reason, I choose to ignore him. His chair squeaks as he drags it closer, his breath fans my neck, chills run down my spine. “Nice slap.” My eyes almost pop out of their sockets, I swallow. I will melt if I hear his smooth voice one more time. Ben just said more than a word to me. I might look calm but I am screaming on the inside. Wait. Nice slap? My head jerks to him, he chuckles and pushes his seat back without a sound. At my confused look, he waves his phone at my face, ducking it out of my reach when I make to grab it. Dread settles in the pit of my belly, I refuse to consider the only possibility. It cannot be. We were alone in the hallway. “Let me see,” I whisper to a smiling Ben, he is all too happy to see me worked up. “Please?” A strand of hair falls into his face, he flips it in slow motion like he knows how sexy that little action is. He’s hot and he’s smart, I am allowed to appreciate that combo but he doesn’t have to know that. Putting my best poker face, I hold his gaze for a brief second and that arrogant smirk returns to his lips. Aish. He’s so full of himself. I point to his phone, hoping he will take the hint and show me the video but he doesn’t. He shrugs and slides the phone into the pocket of his jeans without breaking eye contact. Jackass. I should have grabbed it when I had the chance. Sparing him one last dirty look, I scoff and train my eyes on the back of Mr Sam’s head as he scribbles on the board. This time, I’m determined to pay attention to the lesson. But Ben is bent on making that impossible. He nudges me again, I ignore him. A crumpled note falls to my desk, courtesy of him. As curious as I am, I flick it off my desk without a peek and his muffled groan makes me grin, he must be so used to getting his way. The students in front of us are taking notes, unlike me and him, I pull out my notebook with the intention of busying myself. Ben pokes me at the side with his pencil, I grit my teeth and my head snaps to his stupid smiling face. “What?” I bark at him. The classroom goes silent, heads turn to us with a death glare directed at only me and I shrink in my seat. Mr Sam pauses his intense writing, his gaze alternates between me and Ben and his eyes narrow at me. “Theresa, be quiet.” I offer him an apologetic smile, Ben chuckles besides me but no one calls him out for that. I suppress a hiss at the partial treatment and start doodling on my note, all interest in the class disintegrating. The bag at my foot vibrates, I bring out my phone and bile rushes to my throat at the message in all caps. “Hey.” It’s Ben again but I’m too focused on Maria’s message to listen to him. If it’s all caps, then it has to be urgent but I don’t want to open Broadway Gossip, which is exactly what her text demands. “Next time, you should punch her. Break her nose or something.” I glare at him, he winks. “Nice necklace.” At that, I shove my necklace into its hiding spot. He snickers but doesn’t bother me again. Mr Sam throws us a warning glance but says nothing, I convince myself to open the blog and my head spins a bit. No, no, no. Not this. Nice slap? Next time, punch her? It all begins to make sense at the video of me slapping Olivia staring at me. The worst are the comments asking if it’s Photoshopped while some reply with memes of the slap. Oh my life. I’m in deep shit. Maria sends another text to confirm if I’ve seen the video and I reply to her with a picture of the type of flowers she should bring to my graveyard because I’m dead. When I finally lift my throbbing head from my phone, the class is empty or so I think until I notice Ben watching me. Is he waiting for me? He looks away before I can comment my suspicion, I pull my bag over my shoulder and stand. This is weird. It’s also our first time being in the same place alone. We speak a few times in unavoidable situations but I’m sure he doesn’t remember those encounters, I doubt he knows my name. I clear my throat to call his attention but he continues staring out the window as if he’s embarrassed to get caught staring at me. Jerk; I can look good if I try. I follow his gaze outside, nothing of interest but the school’s parking lot. Alright then. Without a word to him, I exit the class for my next lecture. The rest of my classes are a blur, stolen glances and more stolen glances. A few pointed fingers and giggles. I faintly remember Maria leading me into the cafeteria and dumping a tray in front of me. No soda. No junk. I have a fight tomorrow but she doesn’t know that. She thinks I’m watching my weight. As if I am not already skinny enough. I pick at my food, taking only a bite before I push the tray away. “Cheer up, it’s not the end of the world,” she says in her overly cheery voice. Easy for her to say, she’s used to being the centre of attention while I’ll rather remain hidden. “The video will be forgotten soon.” She twirls a strand of her blond hair, I nod and she grins. Her jacket is gone, revealing her black crop top which hugs her chest. It must be nice to have great boobs, not the dots God stuck on my chest as an afterthought. I tune her out as she rambles on about her latest music video on her YuuTube channel. Of her five siblings, she’s the best singer and her dream is to one day perform with Shakira. I am all for supporting your best friend, heck, I was her first subscriber but I need some peace and quiet for a few minutes. Pressing my fingers to my temples, I release a sigh. The cafeteria was a bad idea, the library is better. I jump to my feet, prepared to leave when the doors of the cafeteria burst open. I sink into the bench as everyone’s attention is redirected to the group strolling in and my eyes instantly locate Ben. Ben, the show stopper. And he doesn’t even try. They halt at the centre of the cafeteria as if giving us the chance to properly admire them but the only person I am interested in is Ben. The tall hunk with a flirty grin. My smile vanishes as his arm snakes around Olivia’s waist, he must have known I was staring because he pecks her loudly on the cheek. Are they dating now? Who cares? I stab the sandwich on my plate, my heart constricts and I dig my nails into my jeans, maybe I do care even if it’s only a little. My eyes follow them as they drop down to an empty bench, Olivia claims Ben’s laps with her hands sitting nicely around his neck while his settles on her waist and that tightening in my chest occurs again. He must be out of options or lacks taste in girls. Maria taps me but I cannot look away from the couple. They fit together. “Are they dating?” Ben doesn’t date, I have been in this school long enough to know that. What if Olivia manipulated him? His eyes meet mine over Olivia’s shoulder, I freeze, my cheeks burning a bright red at his subtle wink.

Chapter 4 4: Time for Africa

I hate crowds, so why am I here? In a pub with noise and more noise, shitty beats in the name of music. Maria slides a glass of iced coke to me, I make a face and take a sip while she gulps the weird content in her shot glass with a grimace. Lucky her. I need a clear head and sharp mind for tomorrow’s fight. In less than a year, we will both be eighteen and eligible to drink and party the right way. I squint at the bright, colourful lights swirling above the small crowd moving on the dancefloor, bobbing my head to the beat. Though our fake IDs allow us entries into a few clubs, alcohol is off limits. For fun, we have them serve our drinks in shot glasses and act like it’s the almighty margarita we have heard so much about. Only tonight, Maria got lucky. She got her first real taste of margarita. “Ryan Raynoldz, smash or pass?” she asks, shot glass turned over to catch the last drop of her cocktail. I fake gag. The man might be fine but no way will I smash him. “Pass. He’s older than you. Both of us.”“He’s not that old.” Whatever, I am not interested in smashing him. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, showing off a hoop earring that’s definitely mine. “Alright, Zic Effon?” I wrap my arms around my neck and pretend to strangle myself. “Party pooper.” Hey, I’m not the one who wants to talk about boys. Pointing to her empty cup, she burps and murmurs, “Doesn’t taste as good as they say it does.” She giggles, I kick her stool and she fixes me a glare that vanishes as soon as the DJ starts a new song. My body sways to the beat, I snap my fingers, singing along to Coldplay’s jam. Maria eyes the dancefloor with longing but stays put on her seat. I am a bad dancer but she’s not. Being a great dancer must come with her singing ability because she does both so effortlessly. Bodies grind against each other on the dancefloor, the bartender attends to other customers for a bit before we are left alone in the bar again. Maria leans on me, her head resting on my shoulder and I pat her arm. “Don’t worry, you will kill it.” She raises her head to stare at me like I said the impossible, I shrug and she returns to her former position. After all the risks we took to get here, she has to kill that opening or we will be eternally grounded. As far as our parents are concerned, she’s at my house and I am at hers. What they don’t know is their beloved daughters are at a pub, waiting for the go-ahead from the manager. He promised to let Maria open for the new band playing. I have no idea why they are late but we have no option than to wait. The song switches, Maria screams, almost falling out of her seat at Shakira’s song—Time for Africa. She is obsessed with that woman. Her bandage gown rides up as she begins to rotate her waist, I play the role of a hype man, clapping and encouraging her to move that sexy body. My phone pings in my pocket, I ignore it. There have been tons of messages since that video was uploaded. I’ve received praises too. Talk about, nice job. Congrats on hitting her. I know she’s hated by some students in BH, why won’t she? She is nasty but I don’t want to be anyone’s hero. I must have looked so sad because Maria plops back to her seat with a frown. She places a hand on my knee, my phone vibrates again and she pulls it out. “Told you your five minutes of fame will end soon,” she says. Err, what’s she talking about? It has been more than five hours and I am still getting messages. My phone dangles between her fingers, I snatch it and my brows nearly disappear into my hairline at the new post. “Everyone’s talking about the cafeteria kiss.” A video of Ben kissing Olivia’s cheeks plays on repeat like a broken record. It is not even a real kiss; a sloppy peck. “I thought Olivia didn’t do highschoolers anymore. What’s she doing with Ben?” I don’t know and I force myself not to care. Since that break up, she has not dated anyone in our school, she’s above that and will rather go for college guys. Good for the rest of the girls crushing on the jocks. “She might have changed her mind,” I say when I see Maria’s still waiting for my reply. “Ben is fine.”“Oh, he is. He is more than fine.” Propping her elbows on the counter, she lets out a dreamy sigh. “He’s hot. I would change my mind too if he asked me out.” Only that he didn’t ask Olivia out, she must have forced herself on him. Maria is still frowning so I nudge her with my knee, she can get any boy in school if she tries. Her phone vibrates in her purse, she takes it out and scowls. “Daniel’s not coming. Asshole.” Daniel Holt is our friend, the last person in our group; tall, curly hair and green eyes. Maria has had a giant crush on him for as long as I have had one on Ben. Hold up, that didn’t come from me. I don’t have a crush on Ben, he’s hot and that’s it. Anyways, she has a crush on him but won’t say anything and Daniel is oblivious to it. The boy barely comes to school so how will he know? Secretly, I’m glad they are not together because I don’t want to be the third wheel neither do I want to watch them lick each other's faces. I am about to reassure her when her phone rings, she pouts at something the voice from the other end says, mutters a small yes and the call ends. Sitting upright, she smoothes her gown and grabs her purse. “It’s time.” She's the one performing but my limbs tremble when I get up to engulf her in a hug. “Good luck.” Her smile is jittery. The layers of makeup—smokey eyes, red lips don’t hide her nervousness. She walks a few feet from me and stops. Throwing a look over her shoulder, she says, “You better get my good side.” I flip her my middle finger but she is already out of sight. We discussed this. I don’t want to be in a crowd of sweaty bodies holding up a phone to create a video that will never make it to her YuuTube channel. At the end of it all, I will get bashed for my poor photography skill. Let’s face it, I am a terrible camera lady. The crowd goes silent as Maria climbs the stage, I eye those at the VIP section with a scowl, they get a first hand view of everything, they should make the video. My resolve weakens at Maria's smile. Damn. Why do I have such a soft heart? Knowing me, I’ll be out there in seconds, trying to get her best side as she sings her heart out. I pop out of my seat but a walking nightmare stops me from taking a step forward. Olivia. How does she always know where to find me? She’s not alone. Nate has an arm around her waist, she’s pressed to him and I almost feel bad for Ben. His girlfriend is cheating on him a few hours after their kissing show. I shove my hands into my pockets, Nate laughs and I remember what sticks out about him. She cheated on him with Nate. My blood boils at the distant memory, I put on a faux smile and excuse myself, covering only a few distance before a cold liquid trickles down my scalp to my shirt. Olivia stops in front of me with my empty glass of coke in her hand, a proud smirk on her lips. I want to throttle her or slap some more sense into her head but I don’t. Nate takes his place beside her, she slams the cup on the counter and a crack appears on it. I scoff as she closes the gap between us to gloat, uncurling my fist when Nate takes a protective stance behind her. The bitch can’t even fight her battles alone. Why else did she come with Nate? Maria’s voice fills the pub, so angelic and smooth I want to scream she’s my best friend. Guilt tightens my guts, I should be capturing this moment. Olivia scoffs when she gets no reaction out of me, looping an arm around Nate’s waist, they waltz out of my sight. I take another deep breath, this night is for Maria, I won’t create a scene, I won’t ruin it. Getting back at Olivia will only result in a back and forth of dirty pranks, I want none of that. I slapped her, she emptied a drink on me. We are even now.

Chapter 5 5: Fucking hell

There’s one thing Maria and my parents don’t know about me. I fight illegally in an underground ring. Mum and Dad will have a mini heart attack if they learn their daughter is somewhat of a champion at underground martial art, thanks to Hayden. And there’s no way to tell Maria without her diving into a series of questions, wanting to know why I haven’t beaten half the school’s population for giving me shit. The song—an original from Maria’s unnamed album—playing from the tiny speaker on the table filters into the room, the tension in my joints melts and I shuffle to stand in front of the mirror to start my stretches. I hear the faint cheering from outside and my heart skips a beat. Ten more minutes until my turn. Swiping my brown hair out of my face as I bend to touch my toes, I focus on keeping my raging heart under control and regulating my ragged breathing. In. In. In. Out. I exhale and repeat the process. Today’s match is super important, the biggest since I started. I am fighting another champion. My palms grow clammy at the thought of losing, I’ve lost a few matches but I can count the losses on one hand. “Tee.” A knock on the door follows, I recognise the voice as Coach Greyson’s. “Can I come in?” A glance at my half-naked self in the mirror and I shake my head. “No.” I snatch the bandage on the table holding the rest of my belongings and adjust my tube lying flat on my chest. “Not yet. Just a second.” Wrapping the bandage around my chest to make it flatter, I throw on a black tank top matching the colour of my tube, making sure to avoid looking at the discolouration on my stomach and upper thighs. The doctor called it segmental vitiligo, a patchy loss of skin pigmentation and there’s no known cure for it. I hate it. I hate the fact it might spread to all parts of my body; my face. I should take Maria’s advice—rock crop tops, bodycon and spaghetti straps while I still can but I hate seeing the difference between me and my family. I hate looking at my body, to be reminded I am this way. Hayden doesn’t have it, neither do my parents. One day, I am a normal teenager, the next day, I have spots on my stomach, my back, legs as if being skinny and unfashionable isn’t enough of a curse to live with. Mum says I'm not that skinny and I can work on my fashion sense but I'll rather do nothing and sulk. No point since I can't show off my body. Another knock on the door forces me out of those pitiful memories, I pull the leggings over my waist and dab my eyes with the heel of my hand. I can't change my body. This is not the time to feel bad about that, it is the time to fight like I was born to. To beat my opponent in the ring like he’s the cause of my vitiligo. “You can come in now,” I scream to the person behind the door at the same time my phone pings with a message. Only one person texts me this much, she hates calls as much as I do. I giggle at the picture of Maria standing in front of a blinking banner in her headband with big, fluffy ears. She is at the concert. Maria's weekends consist of concerts, music festivals, street shows and whatnot. If it involves music, you can bet your life Maria will be there. Music is everything to her, she loves singing. She’s a hustler and the only way her parents will truly agree with her decision of skipping college is if she finds a label to push her career forward. I dare not think of skipping college, my parents will send me to a counsellor. Besides, I want to go to an acting school to hone my amateur skills. I send Maria a short text with lots of kissy faces and slide my phone into my bag. Staring at the door with a frown, I cross my hands on my chest. Coach should be here. I can't go out there without him. Why isn't he here? A jerk at the door, the violent twitching of the knob and the answer comes to me. I locked the door. “Sorry,” I say to him once I open up. He takes a seat on the couch opposite the vanity, I pull out a chair and lower myself into it, folding my hands under my jaw propped on the headrest. “How’s it out there?” He shrugs. “You ready?” Coach Greyson was Hayden’s coach before he went off to college. He knows my real age and is fine with me coming here alone as long as I keep up my grades and win him a few thousand dollars monthly. “Nope,” I say, popping the p. He laughs and pats the spot beside him. I am nervous, I am always nervous before every fight but tonight, I'm skittish. Hiding my face behind my palms, I say, “I can’t do it, Coach.”“You can do it,” Coach says, throwing a bulky arm covered in tattoos over my shoulders when I join him on the couch. Don’t let his Viking appearance fool you. The man has got a heart of gold beneath all that thick, bushy beards, big body and tattooed sleeves. I nod and he ruffles my hair. “Remember to throw your punches this way, not that.” He balls his hand into a fist and punches the air to demonstrate his point. I lost my last match because I was trying to pull a punching stunt I saw on YuuTube, he wasn't so pleased. “And your right hook, never forget to use it.” He stands with a foot behind. “Show me your right hook.” The right hook has always been my winning hit, I mimic his stance and jab the air from under. Coach whistles. “Attagirl.” He raises his hands for a high five. “That’s how you knock an opponent out.” Taking a sip from the water bottle Coach passes me, I put my hair into a tight knot and bounce on my toes, shaking my limbs to get the stiffness and nervousness out of them. The wall clock above the mirror shows I have two more hours until my curfew, I pop my knuckles and twist my neck. I need to win the ten grand even if I don't need it. Each round takes about forty minutes. If I stick to what I know and have always done, the fight should be over in thirty minutes. A knockout signifies the end of the match and if I want to get home early enough, I need to put the motherfucker on the ground in less than thirty minutes. No pressure. Dumping the water bottle on the table, I wipe the sweat decorating my forehead with the towel hanging from my neck and head for the door. I stop at the sound of Coach’s voice, a bit hesitant to face him, he doesn't need to know I am still nervous after his pep talk. He's a good coach, I can't lose this match. “Tessa.” I close my eyes. I can do this, I have done it before, I can do it again. A strange feeling creeps up on me as I repeat the words and I gulp. “Your mask.” Oh. My eyes lower to the black mask he stretches to me, I accept it with gratitude, taking one last look at my room before putting it on. “Calm down. Breathe.” I follow his breathing pattern, we go at it two more times and I relax. He gives my shoulders a squeeze in his usual fatherly manner, drawing me in for a side hug and I stay in his embrace longer than I should have. Kissing my pendant for good luck, I step into the auditorium to my theme song which is almost drowned by the screams and shouts of my name from the audience waving flags with my caricature. Out here, I am Tee. The guy behind the mask. No one can tell my identity and I love it, it adds a bit of mystery to this whole persona. My opponent is already bouncing in the ring and that odd feeling returns with intensity. I assess him from a corner of my eyes, walking slowly to the ring with a calm I don’t feel. Dude is a brick of muscles and I am a stick of flexibility, speed and skills. I hope those can save me like they have always done in the past. With a bigger opponent, I have to move faster, work twice as hard. The music fades once I step inside the ring, I wave to the crowd as expected and they erupt into another round of cheers. I smile through my mask, this win will be for them too. I touch my chest one last time to confirm the presence of the necklace, a familiar calm surrounds me and I nod. I can do this, I will win. For Hayden, for Coach. That unmasked guy behind me is going down. Adrenaline pumps through my vein, I turn, ready to rumble and my breath ceases. Shit. Fucking hell. Ben is my opponent.