Fists Fly, Foes are Made

I returned to the classroom as the break was already over. It would be too soon to start skipping classes, and I couldn’t afford to do that. My mind still reeled from the encounter with Ace, his enigmatic smile and piercing eyes lingering in my thoughts and making me wonder if I had misread the situation entirely.

Entering the classroom, I was met with a sea of familiar faces, except for one. Though it was my second day, I vividly remembered all their faces—except this new person glaring at me. I didn’t notice her in the classes we had earlier; she probably skipped them.

A girl with long, soft brown hair caught my attention. Her hair seemed to dance sporadically with every breath she took. The permanent scowl on her face made it obvious that she was channeling all her energy into it. She seemed to own the place, standing out among the other students, and her glare made me feel like I was the one who didn't belong.

I ignored her and made my way to my seat. As I pulled out my chair, she suddenly appeared beside me. I turned back, ready to tell her off, but her hand connected with my face, sending a stinging sensation through my cheek. It took me a few seconds to realize I had just been slapped by a very angry stranger.

The classroom fell silent, with all eyes on us. I felt a surge of adrenaline as I turned to face my attacker. "What's your problem?" I demanded, my voice low and even.

The girl's face turned red with rage. "You'll regret this, you whore!" she spat, before charging at me. I stood my ground, ready to defend myself.

The classroom erupted into chaos as some classmates watched in horror while others watched in awe. Her friends tried to intervene, but in the heat of the moment, I threw a punch, connecting with the stranger’s nose. The sound of crunching cartilage filled the air, and the girl's eyes widened in shock. I knew she would be visiting the hospital soon.

As the reality of the situation set in, my chest tightened, and a twinge of guilt pricked my conscience. Who did she think she was, anyway? Her smug face hovered in my mind, fueling my rage. With each passing moment, my fists clenched tighter, my eyes locked on hers in a silent challenge.

“Heather!” some students cried out. Realizing we weren’t the only ones in the classroom, pairs of eyes frowned at us. Dirty looks were thrown at us; I couldn’t be bothered about that. I couldn’t be bothered about anything.

Ms. Bothered—no, it was Heather—was shrieking in pain in front of me, her palm closed on her nose to keep it in place. Her friends, the hateful girls from yesterday, scurried around in search of something to keep the blood from dropping onto the floor.

After recovering from her shock, the girl, Heather, sneered at me. "You think you can just waltz in here and steal the attention of everyone, including Ace?" Her voice dripped with venom.

I raised an eyebrow. "I didn't steal anything. And who is Ace to you, anyway?" I shot back, my curiosity piqued.

She cried, shaking her head frantically, and then yelled, “How dare you say his name?!”

“How dare I?” I chuckled softly, giving her my best ‘did you miss your way’ look. Because, really, did she miss her way?

“You’ll pay for this, you will, you spawn of the devil!” Heather deadpanned, her little friends had gotten her something to keep the blood from flowing. She pressed the paper towel to her nose, suppressing the blood.

Oh no! This bitch didn’t just say that.

“Do you need help fixing your loose screws? Because I’d be happy to help. I’m sure you’ve seen just how helpful I can be,” I said sarcastically, with disdain laced in my voice.

If you enter a lion’s den, you already know there’s a probability that he will draw blood. But this is different; she entered my den, hit me, and did it right inside my den.

As much as I hated violence, one thing I would never do is let a girl live with the satisfaction that I feared her. Never! It was always my call to make, not the other way around, and certainly not from this stupidly brazen girl.

The classroom door swung open, and a new person strode in, his eyes scanning the room before locking onto the sight of distraction. "Heather, what's going on here?" he asked his voice firm but controlled.

I looked up, searching for the familiar voice when my eyes met his. Ace’s face was stern and his expression was cold, unreadable. I could have sworn he wasn’t the boy I connected with minutes ago.

Heather's face crumpled as she pointed at me. "She hit me!" she wailed.

Dramatic much.

Ace's gaze shifted back to me, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of surprise. But I could be wrong. His eyes flickered to the girl. It suddenly dawned on me; I knew her name sounded familiar. She was the girl who missed school the day before, and also the same girl I had been hearing about.

Did I just start a war with the queen bee?

Without a word, Ace walked toward Heather, grasped her hand, and led her out of the classroom. I felt a pang of disappointment as I watched them leave. The room erupted into whispers and gasps as the reality of the situation set in. Students chanted "Ace and Heather" as they walked past.

I stood frozen, my heart pounding in my chest. What had just happened? I replayed the events in my mind, trying to make sense of it all. I didn’t start the fight. It wasn’t even a fight; I only defended myself. Sure, I was hurt that he ignored me, but I wasn’t going to apologize to him or anyone, and especially not her.

As the classroom door closed behind Ace and Heather, a sense of unease washed over me. I felt like I had unknowingly stepped into another person's tale.

The rest of the class passed in a blur. I struggled to process the events that had unfolded, my mind racing with questions.

What was Heather’s connection to Ace?

As the bell rang, signaling the end of class, I gathered my belongings and made my way out of the classroom. The hallway was buzzing with students gossiping about the fight.

I spotted a group of girls huddled together, whispering and glancing at me with a mixture of curiosity and hostility. One of them caught my eye—a petite brown-haired girl with a button nose.

"You're the new girl, right?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, congratulations, you've just made yourself an enemy."

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that a threat?" I asked, my voice even.

The girl smirked. "Just a warning. Heather's not someone you want to mess with."

I smiled sweetly. "Thanks for the advice." I said, too sweet, might I add. Who did these girls think I was, a pushover? Ha!

As I walked away, I couldn't help but wonder what other surprises this school held, and what lay ahead for me. It's ironic that I thought Ace and I had a connection, but he drew the line before anything even began.