There’s a giant metal thing—almost like part of an airplane hangar—that covers the courts and blocks the wind from one side, but the wind is coming from the other direction today. When I find an abandoned place on the wall to lean against, I have to fight the urge to shiver. I cross my arms at my chest, grit my teeth, and narrow my eyes, refusing to let on that I’m cold. I know better than to show weakness on the second day of school.
I’m still new enough to attract attention by simply existing in the same space as these people who have known each other—and the social order of this group of losers—their entire lives. I can’t let my guard down until I’ve made my place in this eco-system clear. I may be a runt and one of the smallest kids in school, but I’m a predator.
I’m at the top of the food chain, and the best call any of these punks can make is to stay the hell out of my way.
“You’re in my English class, right?” The girl walking by stops, cocking her head as she glances my way. She’s got crazy, fuzzy, almost-black hair and her mouth is too big, but she’s pretty, not the kind of girl who usually talks to runts like me.
“I like your shoes,” she adds, nodding toward my one-stars.
She’s probably trying to be a Good Samaritan, or win “Most Liked” at the end of the school year and get her picture in the yearbook, or something lame like that. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to talk to her. At least I know a girl in a fluffy black dress and combat boots probably isn’t going to try to kick my ass.
“Yours too.” I glance at her boots with the chain at the top. “Like the hardware.”
She smiles and her pretty face becomes beautiful. “Thanks, me too. I sewed it on myself.”
“Cool,” I say stupidly, because I can’t think of anything better to say. I can’t look away from her face, either. There’s something about this girl that makes me feel all…upside down inside. Something in her eyes, in that vulnerable, focused way she’s looking at me that makes me want to drop my guard.
But I should know better. Dropping my guard has only ever led to one thing—trouble.
“Hey kid, got any money?”
The voice comes from my other side, the flank I left unguarded while I was talking to Boot Girl. I glance over to see the big, mountain-shaped guy with the fuzz moustache who was staring at me in the lunchroom yesterday and his sidekick, a shorter kid with a thick neck and shoulders twice as wide as mine.
The big guy’s brown eyes are flat as his gaze slides from my face to the backpack slung over my shoulder, but the shorter kid is grinning and shifting from one foot to the other, obviously itching for an excuse to take what his bully friend wants if I don’t hand it over.
“Yeah, I’ve got some money,” I say, forcing a smile.
“Good,” Mountain Boy says, holding out one bloated hand. “Give it to me.”
“I have a better idea, why don’t you go fuck yourself.” Electricity crackles in my muscles as I prepare to fight, to draw as much blood as I can before these two take me down. I’m not stupid enough to think I can take them both, just hoping I can do enough damage that they’ll decide to pick an easier target next time.
The muscled kid laughs. “You’ve got a big mouth for a little kid.”
“I also hit pretty hard,” I say, smile still in place, refusing to show fear.
“Oh yeah?” Muscled Kid’s smile fades. “I bet I hit harder.” He takes a step toward me.
I’m about to drop my backpack and go for his gut, when suddenly I’ve got a mouthful of fuzzy black hair.
I sputter and step back to see that Boot Girl has wedged herself between the kid coming to pound my face and me.
“Leave him alone, Lono,” she says. “It’s only his second day.”
Lono scowls. “Get out of the way, Shark. I don’t mind hitting girls.”
Boot Girl stands up straighter. “I’m not moving. I’m not going to stand here and watch you hurt someone.”
Lono shrugs and pulls his arm back. He moves so fast there isn’t time to shove Boot Girl out of the way before the kid’s fist flies out, catching her in the gut. She doubles over with a cry of pain and I swear I feel that sound like I was the one who got sucker punched.
That asshole punched a girl!
A girl half his size who hadn’t done shit to him!
It’s all the spark I need to make the anger inside me detonate.
I hurl my body at that kid like a bomb and explode all over his ass. My fists fly so hard and fast, I’ve got him backed halfway across the concrete at the edge of the basketball courts in thirty seconds and on his back not long after. He fights back the best he can while he’s pinned. I feel his punches connect with my ribs and stomach a few times, but I don’t let them slow me down. I keep pounding on him like it’s my reason for living, the sound of the girl’s cry of pain echoing in my ears, making every suffering sound I draw from the bully beneath me that much sweeter.