Page 10 of Uppercut Princess

The douchebag laughs like he’s never had this much fun before first period. I’d wish for the bell to ring, but I don’t think any of these guys give a shit whether they show up to class at all, let alone care if they make it on time.

Nevaeh tries to force me down again, this time buckling my knees for a second. I pop right back up, turning toward her. I draw the line at kissing fucking feet. I won’t be humiliated like that. Oscar reaches out for me, and everyone pauses. The laughter slows and then dies. Nevaeh stares open-mouthed at his gesture. He takes my arm, sliding his around mine.

Nevaeh gasps behind us. “Oscar…”

“Who knows,” Oscar says. “Maybe Princess knows how to treat a man.”

We walk around the corner, leaving the scene behind us. As soon as we’re out of sight, Oscar immediately lets me go. He walks off like he didn’t just make me enemy number one in Nevaeh’s eyes, but that wasn’t what his goal was. He was doing this for him. He was showing her he doesn’t give a fuck. That he can move on to the next girl because she means nothing to him. But I suspect the opposite is true. I suspect he actually really, really cares that he was runner up to someone else.

Who doesn’t? We all want to be number one. A long time ago, I was.

I grip the side of the locker and stare after Oscar. Cement hardens my veins, strengthening my purpose. I want revenge on the person who took the people who thought I was number one away from me. He deserves it.

5

You know that feeling when people keep looking at you and you’re afraid they know something you don’t? I get that for the entire day. In class, the other students blatantly watch me, most of them snickering, some just with looks of disinterest.

In the halls when I change classes, I get the same treatment. I don’t ever think of myself as someone who fears a lot of things. I’ve already been through the worst parts of my life, but today? Today, I’m worried about what the hell kind of shit is about to go down.

Right before lunch, I stop at my locker to drop off my book bag. It crashes to the bottom with a metallic clank. School seems like such a waste at the moment. Not only do the classes suck, but it’s basically impossible to learn anything. Plus, school isn’t the most important thing going on in my life right now. I’m only paying attention in class to wonder why everyone keeps watching me. I’m basically just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

A tickle of awareness cascades down my shoulders. I turn, slowly, so it doesn’t look like I’m afraid, but when I finally do see who’s behind me, my stomach bottoms out.

“The fuck are you doing?” Brawler seethes.

He grips my wrist, shuts and locks my locker with his other hand, and pulls me behind him to the stairwell at the end of the hall. It smells like a mixture of must and lingering smoke in this corner. Dust bunnies scatter along the walls. There are so many of them it looks as if they haven’t swept back here in a year. I yank my wrist out of his grip, certain I’m only able to because he let me. “What the fuck?” I growl back.

Brawler leans over me, his blue eyes blazing. He’s effectively cut me off from escaping. My back’s to the wall as he fills the gap between the wall and stairs. Voices linger in the hallway, but not enough that I would feel safe if I called out. Not to mention that would be a stupid idea, anyway. No one’s helping me here. I’m on my own. It’s Heights Crew territory, and I’m no one.

“Are you insane? Or just plain stupid?”

I rub my wrist for something to do. He didn’t really hurt me all that much, which makes me wonder what he’s playing at. I sit back on my heels and stare into the inky depths of his eyes. I want them to tell me all of Brawler’s secrets, but I keep coming up with nothing. “What are you talking about?”

He lets out a breath. “Nevaeh is what I’m talking about. She wants to challenge you to a fight.”

My heart starts to pound. This is what I wanted. This is my in. Go to the Heights. Act like a doormat. Find a back door into the underground ring. “A-a fight?” I stammer out, and the tension is real, not faked. I’m not worried Nevaeh will beat me. She’s straight up amateur, but the fact that on my second day at school, what I needed to have happen is already happening is fantastic. It just needs to play out the way I want—no, need—it to.

“Yes,” he all but growls. He runs a hand through his hair. “I know you’re fucking new here but listen up. If you get challenged to a fight, youhaveto fight. You don’t show your face after passing on a fight. You won’t fucking last. They’ll make sure of it.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. Brawler’s concern warms my insides. A fleck of fear for me passes in our heated gaze. I wouldn’t have pegged Brawler as a weak link. Not that concern should make you weak, but he’s the one who puts on the fights for crying out loud. You would think he’d want to see this. “Why would she want to fight me?”

Brawler’s wide shoulders relax in defeat. He checks over his shoulder. “Oscar. Did he pick you over her or something? What went down?”

I pretend to think, drawing it out, which only makes Brawler more and more agitated. “He accused Nevaeh of cheating on him, then he did walk me down the hall a little way. I didn’t think that meant we were…”

I trail off, but Brawler doesn’t waste any time. “Nevaeh’s been going after Oscar since he got back. Her older brother’s in the Crew, and she wants in too. She’ll only be able to get in if she wifes up.”

“Wifes up?”

Brawler sighs. “Just forget it. Can you just please stay the fuck out of her way? When you see her coming down the hallway, move. If she’s in one of your classes, skip. If she comes at you, fucking run.”

I run a hand through my hair. Brawler watches the movement as I wonder what he’s playing at. I must’ve missed something important. I didn’t think any of these important players would be trying to help me. I can’t let Brawler get close. I have to make sure I fight. “Why do you care?”

Brawler snaps his mouth shut. His eyes shutter. There’s some definite emotion there for a split second before he shields himself, cutting me off from his real emotions.

“I’m a big girl. Brawler, right? That’s what they call you?” I don’t wait for an answer, and he’s not forthcoming with one, anyway. “This is just ridiculous,” I laugh. “She doesn’t want to fight me. I didn’t do anything to her. Oscar did this. I’m sure he’ll fix it.”

Brawler’s head snaps toward me. “If you think Oscar gives a fuck about anyone but himself, you’re mistaken.”

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