Fight Club

Chapter 1 - Fight Club

Sweat flew everywhere and my arms screamed as I threw myself at the ground, ducking a missile that barely missed. I got up again, brushing short, wavy brown hairs out of my flushed, wet face.

My coach Tamara bent over and picked up the orange pool noodle chopped in half, then turned to face me. 'You pushed it a little close again, but otherwise that was great. We can probably fit in a few more repetitions before six if you're up for it.'

'Okay,' I gasped back. 'I'm ready.' Tamara abruptly chucked the pool noodle at me again, and I dropped. 

Too slow again.

The noodle flew at me. I ducked, and it grazed the top of my head.

'I think I'm getting tired, Tamara. I'm just getting slower.' '

Alright, no problem. But it might be worth working on your drop technique. It'll be harder when you're dodging a leg instead of a pool noodle.'

I nodded, wiping my forehead with my shirt.

I helped Tamara pack up the training equipment, then walked over to the lockers and took my  satchel and towel. My locker was the only one closed, it was nearly 6 pm and everyone else had gone home except me.

I was committed; I had been at Surfers' Girls Fight Club since grade 4, and the little shed had become my second home.

After saying goodbye to my coach, I shoved open the shed doors and stepped outside into the cool dusk air, taking a deep swig of water from my bottle. The mint green metal was frigid - a sharp contrast to my hot, sweaty pulsing fingers.

I slumped onto the grass outside the shed, then pulled out my battered copy of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. I quickly shot off a text to my sister Martine telling her to come pick me up,  then cracked open the book and continued from where I was off.

I was up to the part where Draco Malfoy gets attacked by Buckbeak the Hippogriff when Martine's red secondhand Suzuki Swift pulled up against the kerb. I put my book away and got up laboriously, giving her a wave before opening the boot and chucking my satchel in. I got into the passenger seat and put on my seatbelt as Martie pulled away from the kerb.

'How did the drops go today, Ross?' 

'Alright. I'm getting better. Still a bit slow.' I replied, chugging more water. 'What about you?'

'Eh.'

I stared at Martine. Her eyes were shining with barely contained excitement. 

'Martie?'

'Fine, fine! I'm getting green P's in two weeks!'

I gave a little shout happiness with her. She's been patiently waiting for each installment of P plates. We stopped at the petrol station to pick up our customary orange juice before getting home.