I walked into my first period class, no makeup gracing my face. My black eye and busted lip showing clearly. People stared at me, whispering to their snot-nosed stuck up preppy friends. I walked back to me seat, back right corner, no one sat around me. I had my blonde hair pulled back into a pony tail, making the bruises on my shoulders and chin more obvious. My teacher came and sat in front of me.
"Sadie, darling, is everything OK a home?" I looked at her.
"Yes." my voice flat and lifeless. But I wasn't lying.
"Then, what's with the bruises? Bully?" she asked, sympathetic.
"Nope. I can't talk about it." she cocked her head to the left.
"Why not hun?" I leaned forward, beckoning her closer. She leaned a bit. Everyone was listening in. I moved even closer, motioning for her to come closer. She was maybe two inches away, and I said, rather loudly,
"Rule one of fight club: don't talk about fight club." she gave me wide eyes and a slightly open mouth. I smirked, her reaction priceless.
"Sadie. As your teacher, and adult influence at this fine Christ centered establishment, I have to ask a few questions before banning you from going again. I leaned back, planting my feet on the desk, and holding my hands behind my head.
"Shoot."
"Where is this place?"
"Next to the other place."
"Where is this, other place?"
"Next to fight club." she sighed.
"Fine. Why do you do fight club?"
"Because of people."
"What kind of people?"
"People like you. People like the rest of the people here. The stuck up, snot nosed, tight assed, mother fuckers that own everything they may their beady black eyes on." everyone gasped.
"I'm going to have to ask you to not use that kind of language, and go to the principals office!" "OK, I like the principal. Oh, and, should I say it in Spanish? German? Swedish! Russian? Portuguese? Romanian? Chinese? Japanese? Korean? Italian? French? Lord knows I've studied enough cuss words in different languages." I laughed and stood up.
"Miss Parker!" I waved preppily.
"That's my name, don't wear it out! TOODLES!" I yelled, bouncing out the door. Psh! Yeah, I'm just gonna willingly go to the principals office.

I duck out of the school and sprint to my car. My beautiful, beautiful car. Time to go and make some money.

"In this corner, HAWKWING!" I walked out to my designated corner, throwing my hands in the air and slowly circling the box. The crowd went nuts, just ballistic.
"And in this corner, the one, the only, STYLES!" the crowd roared. Obviously 'Styles' was a really good fighter. I turned to face him, getting out of my fighting pose I put my hand on my hip.
"I'm sorry, I don't beat little girls." Styles looked offended.
"I don't like to beat up losers." he yelled.
"Oh... Are you beating yourself up?" I fake cried.
"Alright you two! Let's keep it clean, and quick. Who knows when the cops are gonna show up." with that note from Ted, the announcer, the bell rang.

Five minutes later, both Styles and I were still standing. I, however, had found his weakness. He didn't like to hit me. He kept tripping me and pinning me to the mat. Nope, not gonna work again. I brought my right fist back, and nailed him in the gut.
"Ooooggghhhh." he groaned. I smirked before kicking him in the ribs. He staggered backwards. One, more, hit. I slammed my knee into his stomach. He fell.
"And the winner is..." Styles didn't move, he just laid there and took deep breaths. "HAWKWING!"


And just like that, I had more money in my pockets, a better reputation, and the freedom to go home.