The noise in the basement was an unbearable buzz. Too many students packed in at once, was made worse by the large area that had been cleared for the ring. I stood in a corridor of maintenance closets that the Thunderbirds were using as dressing rooms. As I watched anticipation build, I bounced on the balls of my feet, shaking my limbs every so often to stay loose

It would get hot fighting, so I wore a minimal amount of clothing, despite my dislike for eyes on my manly arms and shoulders. Jess had bought me new board shorts and a sports bra for the first Fight Night of the year. It was more fashion than function, but I kind of liked the wide straps that criss-crossed over my back. My hair had been pulled into a tight French braid to keep it out of the way.

For some beyond-me reason, I was wearing makeup; a heavy smoky-eye. It was Jess' doing, and while I will admit to thinking I looked hot, I really didn't see the point. 

But Jess insisted. "If brides can wear this on their weddings through dancing and crying, I'm sure you'll be fine. It wouldn't hurt to look hot, anyways. Maybe it will distract your opponents." 

But these were club kids I'd been fighting since my freshman year; I wasn't much of a girl to them.

Most of the school-sanctioned club rules stood, but a couple had been thrown out the window for Fight Nights.

No chaperone would stop us if we hit too hard or got too aggressive.

There were three ways to lose a fight: step out of bounds, forfeit, or lose consciousness.

Head shots were not grounds for being disqualified, but were rare, as those bruises would be hard to hide from teachers—fighting, as can be expected, was a big no.

Spilled blood was only a problem if you couldn't say you were okay, or if it was a gusher. There were several students who couldn't stomach the sight of the fighters slipping around. Plus, it was a bitch to clean.

Lastly, to top off how many rules we are already breaking with Fight Night, there was the Elite's betting of favors and immunities.

Just about every part of Fight Night could get us expelled.

Jess, who had been waiting with me, gave me a quick hug and kiss as the announcer Jason neared his makeshift podium. "Keep your hood up, Babe," she warned me, hoping the reveal of my makeup would have the shocking effect she wanted. Part of me wanted her nearby to help ward off my nerves, and part of me wanted her away so I could analyze the fights in peace.

"Kevin Mcallister and Johnathan DiMartino!" Jason called the first pairing.

I watched the cocky fighters saunter to the large painted boundary as Jason fabricated stats and did a comically uninformed analysis of their styles. Most of what he said blended in with the other noise for me as I watched the boys dance in their corners. The anticipation in the basement built, spectators leaning to watch and the volume climbing. By the time they met in the middle, staring each other down as our ref reminded them of the few rules, Jason had to issue a warning.

"People! Shut your pie holes! The lookouts can hear you, and if they can hear you..." He didn't need to finish his sentence, the implication was enough. The vacuum effect of his words sucked the sound, but not the electricity from the room. With a grin, he dinged the tiny countertop bell and the boys began circling each other.

When the first punch flew, I put everything else out of my head and watched, for shortcomings or injuries I could use to my advantage. If I was called against any of the Hellhound fighters who were up before me, I'd be prepared.

I'd know to watch out for Kevin's rapid-fire kicks, always delivered in threes. It was painful to watch as he edged Johnathan out of bounds using the same move over and over. I noticed that 

Brandon was overextending every punch, it would be easy to throw him off balance. 

Abdul needed to be kept on his feet at all costs because he excelled when he was thrown to the ground, tumbling in a dizzying way out of every situation. I watched as he hooked his legs around his freshman opponent's and somersaulted him out of bounds—we all cringed when freshman Patrick's head hit the floor with a loud crack. 

Kyle had a tendency for headshots, and his fight was called when he caused a nosebleed. Still, he wouldn't be a challenge, since he failed to block his left side too oft--

"Nicole Kemper and Drew Sales."

The nudge to my side, and Mark whispering urgently pulled me out of making mental notes of all I'd seen in the last fight. They had really called my name with Drew's.

Of course, of course, I'd be paired with the largest fighter on the Hellhounds team. He smirked at me as he stepped up to the square—he wanted to prove that he could beat the great Grayson Kemper's daughter.

He didn't scare me. My club score—which irked him—was higher than his for a reason. I lasted much longer before getting tired than he could. As I left my place, I could feel Mark's hand on my arm.

"Nicole. No."

Shaking his hand off, I walked to the square, determined to avoid catching Jackson or Kellen's eyes. As it is, I could see Jess desperately waving at me and shaking her head. Before any of them could stop me, I stepped into the square knowing none of them would risk losing extra points for interference.

-.-

Side step. Side step. Duck. Block. Side step. My breath was coming in ragged spurts, my body reeling from the hits I'd taken. Sweat dripped down the side of my head, perhaps even blood. I wasn't sure, but I wasn't going to stop and check. My only goal was to not get hit. 

Drew and I had never fought before, mainly due to the fact that the faculty chaperone of our team had thought I was too small. While I'm usually the one arguing that his spar pairings are a sexist load of crap, I agree with him on this one. Drew was just too beefy of a guy, his reach too long, his punches too powerful. So far, I'd been dancing around him in an attempt to tire him out, but it was clear he'd been doing endurance training.

On the balls of my feet, I bounced backwards when he lunged at me. I wasn't quite far enough out of his reach and the edge of his fist caught my chin. I stumbled at the contact, my head snapping sideways. I flexed my jaw as the ref approached to check on me. Was I okay? Did I want to keep fighting? I nodded, ignoring the throbbing in my head as I decided on a change in tactics. I needed to surprise Drew, try and get some hits in.

When Drew came at me, an arrogant smirk on his face, I made a quick decision and lunged forward, flinging myself down and somersaulting past him. I was quick to bounce back to my feet, and delivered two sharp kicks to the back of his leg and lower back.

His knees buckled and he sprawled out on the floor. Though he scrambled to his feet fairly quickly, I took the moment of respite to grab a water bottle from a surprised spectator and gulp down a sip.

When he ran at me this time, he had clear intent to tackle me down to the ground. Again, I ran toward him instead of trying to sidestep him. Jumping as he lunged, I used his shoulder to propel myself over him. 

It was a move my father had done in one of his movies, and I had spent ages trying to learn. I didn't think it would have worked in a real—not choreographed—fight. It didn't. I wanted to land on my feet, instead, I didn't have enough torque and landed flat on my back. Thank God Drew fell forward and wasn't ready to smash me to bits.

My trick had pissed him off even more. I could push myself for ages if I was training, but it was slightly different when someone was actually fighting you. I was beginning to wonder how long I'd be able to last. I knew it would be easy to let him edge me past the boundary and the fight would be instantly over. But my damned pride wouldn't let that happen. His eyes were filled with a crazy fury, but he wasn't lunging as carelessly anymore. He'd finally understood he couldn't just pound me down like he did to all his other opponents.

As we circled each, I caught glimpses of faces in the crowd. Jess, with her fingers in her mouth. Mark, on his feet, cheered me on. Kellen and Jackson looked annoyed, likely because I was fighting. I ignored them all and focused on Drew, each of us calculating possible moves, examining each other with intense stares. He had a gash on his cheek from the last time I'd dropped him, it tapered down toward his jaw in an angry red scrape. He was semi crouched, his face level with mine and I realized my only hope was to get him in the head. Hard. He wouldn't be prepared. Hopefully, I'd be able to knock him out, or at least out of bounds.

Gathering myself mentally, I threw myself into a roundhouse kick to his jaw, following it up with a flat foot to his chest. I hopped back, knowing my gamble might not work and wanting to be out of the way. He didn't crash down, but he did stumble a little, confused at the contact. It was an opening, however small, to get a couple more hits in. I threw punches and jabs, and drove my knee into his gut, trying to force him backwards past the barrier.

But I'd gotten too close and put myself within his reach. He stopped trying to block me and clapped his forearms hard against both sides of my head. It hurt. God, it hurt! That feeling was soon gone, and my mind and everything else about me was ringing when his head butted into mine.

I must have looked drunk, fumbling around in confusion; I couldn't hear anything! Cursing, I spit out blood that filled my mouth, and wiped at my lip furiously with the back of my hand. I hadn't gone down. I was still standing, however disoriented, and I had only to wait for Jason and the judge to either call it, or let us continue.

I circled Drew with wobbly steps, glaring at him with everything I had in me, while silly, almost drunken thoughts ran through my head. How dare he hit me in the face? My face? Does he not realize I'm a girl? I need my face! The thought both angered and amused me and the sickening sound of my hysterical laughter spilled out of my mouth. 

I shakily ran past him and jumped onto his back, bringing my elbows into his shoulders and the sides of his head repeatedly. I have no clue how hard I was hitting him, only that I was swinging wildly as he spun to try and lose me. He suddenly caught hold of my arms and flipped me forward, so I landed with a heavy thud on my back. Air whooshed out of me.

I laid there blinking up at an upside down Drew. He sneered down at me—he'd won, and he knew it. Fine with me anyway, I wanted a nap. No! I snapped my eyes open. I needed to move or he'd make my face look like his. Stop giggling! I chided myself as I tried to get my brain and my body on the same page. If I rolled twice to the left, I'd be giving him the win, but I was glued in place as his foot swung at me.

When I opened my eyes, Jess's face swam into my vision. I made a dazed attempt to sit, but only rolled onto my side; Kellen and Jackson were on the mat beside Drew. Were they holding him back? I couldn't understand, mostly because I still couldn't hear anything but an infernal ringing between my ears.

"What's going on, Jess? What's happening?"

I'm sure if she did hear me, my words sounded a mess. In front of me, Kellen appeared to be yelling, Jackson shoving Drew out of the boundaries. What the hell were they doing? Didn't they know that was flat out forfeit? Not to mention they'd interfered.

Kellen continued shouting, turning to address everyone and I could see rage on his face. All around, faces that had been as puzzled as I was, were beginning to mirror his and everyone surged in protest. Jess was shaking her head beside me, and she stood, her hands forming fists like she wanted to punch Drew herself.

"What the hell is happening?" I closed my eyes and wished for an answer. A wad of balled up fabric, dripping with water touched my face and I reveled in the feeling, and stopped struggling to stay conscious.

I was aware of being lifted, and I weaved in and out, catching glimpses of a bare torso, the stair railing, an upside down portrait on the wall and finally Jess. It had to be her. The familiar halo of blonde head and bright blue eyeshadow bobbed into my vision a few times, carefully dabbing at my face and voicing words that I didn't hear. 

Gosh! If you made it through this monster chapter, thank you! I know it was long, but I hope you enjoyed it. -B