Phoenix

Matching Hoodies

Sweat poured down the side of Phoenix's forehead. She and her opponent circled the ring for ages, guessing eachother's next move, anticipating each blow. They hadn't even begun as yet, Phoenix bounced around the ring, flexing her neck side to side and relishing the snapping her bones made. A skilled fighter would always size up their opponent by judging their strengths, and figuring out their possible weaknesses. And by the looks of it, baldie across the ring there, was going down.

She striked first, quick as a cobra, a quick strong jab to the head and a couple of hot punches to the gut and he was out cold. She scoffed inwardly, disappointment coursing through her as the match ended before it had even begun. The referee came up to her, lifting her hand in the air, announcing her victory.

Somewhere in the crowd stood Pan. He would watch Phoenix's every move , from her graceful movement, to her harsh blows. He was trying his best to prepare for the fight he had with her the very next day. He didn't know who she was, only that she was a ghost. She was a masked fighter, a street fighter. She was notorious for earning her living by beating the pulp out of any and everyone she was with in that death ring. Many youngsters had to resort to various kinds of jobs to earn whatever they could to get by the days.
This was how Phoenix did it.

Not surprisingly, the awestruck crowds gave her the name Ghost Fighter, which made her smirk in wicked delight. Word of her fights spread everywhere, all the small, local gangs knew of her, and even the kids in her school would spread information about her like wildfire. Of course, no one in school knew that she was the one, but she enjoyed watching others talk about it.

To her great amusement and surprise, her next match was with her classmate, Pan.
He lost.

But though Pan had very creepily memorized her every move and blow, she seemed to have come up with a new strategy and punching style. She beat him, which only grew Pan's curiosity. Like everyone else who never minded their own ducking business, he wanted to know who she was and what she looked like.

Who was Phoenix ? That's all he wanted to know.

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Phoenix groaned as her younger brother, Zeke, pounded on her bedroom door. He seemed to be her alarm these days, considering the fact that she threw her alarm clock at her older twin brothers for pranking her with filled glasses of water placed accurately all across her bedroom floor. All in all, she was not in a good mood that day.

''Wake up, sleepy head!'' His voice muffled by the door.

''I'm up, I'm up.'' She replied groggily, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

''It's almost eight, hurry up!''

''Shit! Why the heck didn't you wake me earlier?'' She yelled in frustration, snatching clothes from her cupboard as she sprinted towards the bathroom.

''I just woke up myself!'' He yelled back, his feet thumping across the floorboards as he ran to his own room. She smiled to herself, shaking her head. They were all the same.

Her body was still sore from last night's fight. Though she had won, her opponent was slightly tough. He was huge m, to be blunt, and had powerful muscles that rippled with his every move. He managed to land a couple of hard blows on her jaw and shoulder, but still, the hot shower didn't do much to relieve her aching body. As she pulled on her hoodie, she noticed that a bruise was flowering on her right lower jaw. She groaned. She wore jeans and a pair of worn out shoes, and pulled the hood on over her injured head. She stuffed a croissant in her mouth, grabbed her car keys from the rack and ran outside where her twin brothers, Landon and Logan were waiting impatiently. Zeke would catch the bus since all his friends would be on it.