When Mercury Met Mars (#1 Serendipity Series)

seven • mercury

NO. NO. NO!

What gave Mr. Mendoza the right to torture me like this?! 

Fighting Bubblegum was the absolute last thing I wanted to do.  She already hates me enough to where she'll stop at nothing to win, and she's a literal brewing pot of energy ready to chew me up and spit me out.

I could hardly stay awake even watching the fights—not that they weren't interesting, I had just been using my light seren too much today in order to turn invisible, that I nearly burnt myself out.

I needed a nap, not a broken nose from a pink manicured hand.  Lord help me.

Stepping into the ring with Vera made me slightly nauseous. 

So did the dozens of eyes watching our every move. 

She seemed on edge yet ready as she started to crack her neck and knuckles.  She was an absolute wildcard, I was just hoping she would reveal her hand quickly so I can figure out my plan.  That's the only thing I'm good at—making a plan.  Following through though was a whole other story.

"Begin," Mr. Mendoza declared with a giddy clap of his hands and a smile that stretched his aged skin.

What a sadist, I thought to myself as I narrowed my eyes at him before snapping back into reality.

Vera's eyes were also wide with fear and I could hear the pounding thrum of her heart patter intensely, but she hid it well with a wicked smile that showed her pearly whites and dimples on her blushed cheeks. 

How innocently evil she looks.

Breathing deeply I closed my eyes, focusing my energy on predicting her moves, and getting a feel for the air pressure before we started. 

Focus, wait till she strikes first, and for God sakes Mercury, learn how to conserve your energy before you pass out.

But Vera seemed to have the same idea, it seemed as if a few minutes ticked by of us dancing around each other.  Hissing as she hit my nose I felt a crunch as intense pain flooded through my face.  She was light on her feet, bouncing on her toes as she sent quick jabs and kicks my way.  She was fast, and she could fight, after the seconds passed, it was getting harder and harder to dodge as I felt my upper lip bead with sweat and tasted the copper tang of blood on my tongue.  My agility seemed off, and my mind was muddy from the exhaustion that was creeping in.

Dancing to my left and swiping under her arm in a dodge I swept my arm up for a heavy uppercut then a right hook to her left temple.  When they hit, she hissed in pain and I was satisfied from the spurt of luck. She was better at fighting than I was—not that it's hard to be better than me, someone who would probably lose against a seven year old.

With both of us holding off on the real fight, it made me on edge even more.  Dodging another one of her punches towards my already bloodied nose, she grazed my cheek right before I caught a glimpse of her smug smile and bright eyes.

Why was she smiling?  Despite the few hits she landed, this had to be the slowest fight of the day.  Caught in my thoughts as to why her face seemed so confident in the fact she was going to win, I nearly got a flying kick to my ribs as I jumped backwards my breathing increased. 

Stopping a few feet away from her, I collected my breath and wondered if the fight would somehow pick up. 

I got my answer a second later as my extra sense felt it before my skin did, moving my feet quickly out of the way I looked down to see what was creeping up on me, seeing a small thin vine.