A Fighter's Love

A Fighter's Love - Chapter 1

Let me just start off by saying thank you so much to everyone who read the original Fighter's Love. I wrote this story from pure boredom and I never would have thought that it would get this much support from people. I hope you like this version better because I typed it from just a blank document on Word and I'm really proud of it. I haven't started the second chapter yet so it may take me a while to write that one but the more you guys vote and comment, the faster I'll type! Oh and btw, I had something I wanted to show you guys. TO MAKE IT EASIER TO SEE WHICH CHAPTERS ARE EDITED, THE ONES WITH THE 'FIGHTER'S LOVE' IN FRONT OF THE CHAPTER NUMBERS ARE THE ONES WHICH ARE EDITED. Again, thank you so much! ;)

(Sorry for any errors! And Camille's motorcycle on the side!)

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A Fighter's Love - Chapter 1

“Miss Germaine, will you tell me the answer to this question?” Mrs. Colling asked me, snapping me out of my daydream. I stopped tapping my pencil against the side of the desk and squinted at the whiteboard. As usual, the words looked like a foreign language to me. What can I say? School was just not meant for me.

I cleared my throat and flipped my long black hair back. I knew Mrs. Colling hated my guts since the first day of school even though she tried her best to hide it. And why wouldn’t she? I had always tried to make her class a living hell for her ever since she gave me a week’s worth of detentions.

“I don’t know,” I finally replied, shrugging my shoulders.

“You don’t know?” she repeated. Her thick eyebrows knitted together with confusion. I grimaced at her fluffy pale blue cardigan and tan khaki pants. She reeked of girliness.

“Didn’t I just say that?” I growled. Gosh, this woman was grating on my nerves.

“That’s enough of your attitude. Off to the principal’s office. Go on, you know the routine. You’ve come into a habit of that, haven’t you?” she sneered. Her eyes were shining with excitement and I could just see her happiness level shooting through the roof. She knew that my mom would flip out if I got sent to the principal’s office and I bet my hundred dollar signed Beatles poster that she had called on me on purpose, knowing that I would have no idea what the answer was.

I grabbed my black book bag and trudged out of the room, making sure to kick the door open. The horrible, vivid aqua lockers in the main hall greeted me as I made my way to the front office. I could just imagine what my mom would say to me when the office called her about my twelfth trip to the principal’s office. Her bright blue eyes that I inherited from her would narrow with anger and she would place her petite hands on her thin waist. Even though she was short and small, I had to admit she was intimidating.

I greeted the secretary, who was actually pretty cool once I got to know her, and slammed open the door of our principal. He hurriedly stashed away the cigarette he was about to light and straightened himself. I plopped down onto the cushiony chair and rested my feet onto his expensive mahogany desk. Mr. Reginald glared at my biker boots but didn’t say anything more.

“What are you in here for this time, Camille?” he sighed tiredly, running his hand through his balding hair. I smirked and looked around the large, spacious room. This place was like a second home to me; I spent most of my senior year in the principal’s office.

“Bruce,” I started. I was practically on a first name basis with the principal, but when I saw his face start to turn red, I quickly corrected myself. “Mr. Reginald, there I was sitting quietly in English thinking about my studying schedule for tonight, when Mrs. Colling suddenly starts asking me all these questions about something. I tried to ask her what she wanted me to answer, but she kept on interrupting me. And then she just sent me here for no reason.” I groaned dramatically and sunk back into the chair.