The Bad Girl

Chapter 2

I looked around at my new room. My bed sat under the window with my nightstand beside it. I had a bookshelf on the opposite wall with the flat screen TV hanging above it. I looked in my closet to make sure that everything is neat. It was a regular size closet, but still enough room for me and my clothes to fit.

I had to admit that the room was bigger than my old one was. The whole house was big, but small enough to give me a home feeling. To sum it up, I loved it, but I still feel an ache deep in my chest for my old home.

I climbed down the stairs and slid into the kitchen where mom was putting away the kitchen ware.

"I'm going to find somewhere to fight. Oh, and can I use that shed out back for the gym?"

"Sure honey and be back by nine because you have school tomorrow," she spoke in her motherly voice.

Before I left the kitchen, I asked, "Have you heard anything from Blake yet?"

It had already been a week since we moved in and we still haven't heard anything from Blake.

She shook her head, and pushed me off towards the door.

I climbed on my motorcycle outside and cranked it. When I pulled out of the driveway, I wondered if I would find any streetfighting places. Usually in most towns and cities they have very few that were allowed. The trick was that you had to ask the right people to know where to go. You never ask just anyone otherwise you end up somewhere you don't want to be.

As I rode down the crowded roads, I was glad that I had my leather jacket, skinny jeans, and my boots on. It was quite windy. I suddenly noticed a Starbucks to my right and quickly pulled into the semicrowded parking lot.

I climbed off my bike and pulled off my helmet, letting my hair fall free. The heat of my hair from being bunched up between the helmet and my head, warmed my shoulders and back.

When I walked thought the door, I felt stares from everywhere in the place. I quickly pulled off my jacket letting the warmth of the coffee shop touch and warm my arms.

When I sat down on a barstool, I felt people staring and looked around beside me. A few stools over, I saw about seven guys about my age staring at my sleeve tattoo. I gave them all a glare and waved my hand in front of their gaze.

"Got a staring problem?" The words that left my mouth were bitter and angry. I was angry that they were staring.

"Just never seen you around here before, honey," one of the blonde ones commented. I rolled my eyes and ignored them and thankfully they didn't say anything else. I then turned towards a waiter standing off to the side of the counter. This guy was scrawny and looked like he knew his way around.

"Excuse me? Do you know if there are any sreetfighting clubs around here?," I questioned hopefully.

"Yeah there's one right down the street called the Buzz," his voice was weak but I could hear it perfectly.