The Class Agreement

4

✸ 2 Years Ago ✸

Willow kept pulling on my arm, pleading and begging me not to walk any further.

"Nova I don't think this is a good idea, please."

I pulled my arm away from her, "No, fuck that Willow. I'll give him exactly what he wants. I'm sick of this shit."

I walked straight toward the Circle of Bulls. Tonight's spot is an empty parking lot, all the way at the top level. There a specific piece of shit awaits me as I plan to straighten him out the hard way.

Jack Barton.

There's a lot of Jack's friends here so I need to be wary of anyone who may try to jump me after the fact. I know Gunnar has this place on lock with his henchmen, but anything is possible.

I told Willow not to follow me, but she doesn't want to listen. I told her the only way I get people like him to respect me is if I do it with my fists. This is the only way a lot of my problems get solved. There hasn't been one person I couldn't put in their place.

Plenty of people put in the dirt. Plenty of people who leave here bloody and bruised. Plenty of people who leave me alone afterward.

She doesn't understand and she probably never will.

The Circle of Bulls is a secret fight club in our high school. Founded by a husky boy named Gunnar Bates and a few of his close friends, this started off as a sport that turned into something more serious. A lot of us use this as a thing to let out our aggression and settle problems between our aggressors.

I've had many fights among this circle and I will probably continue to do so as long as people keep screwing with me. I'm technically a "Bull" myself, but I keep my distance from the group. I'm not here to make friends or to establish myself as one. I'm here to put an end to whatever bullshit someone started — with me.

The Circle opens enough for me to get through. I lay my eyes on Jack at the center of it all. The asshole who has been attempting to "bully" me around campus. Not only that, but he's talking a lot of shit about me and he doesn't even know me.

For being the way I am I experience a lot of discrimination. Dirty looks, rude remarks, confused stares. Jack is one of the many homophobic dick heads trying to pick on the defenseless. Unfortunately for him, I'm known to have a very good offense.

Jack is a little taller than me. He's heavier too, like most guys anyway. He recently shaved some of his dark hair off.

"Whenever you two are ready," Gunnar said into the crisp air of the night. "Remember, one knock out ends the fight. Not nut shots. No weapons allowed. No jumping in. No recording either."

"Hear that? No back up for you," Jack said to me. "Hope you can handle it."

I didn't say a word back. I readied my fist and stepped closer. Close enough to smell the bitch in him.

"Come on Jack!" A friend of his yelled.

"Get this shit over with already!"

I smirked in his face. Then he pushed me. It seems that he didn't think this was serious. Most fights start off with a swing. Straight into the dirty business. Not Jack I guess. A total bitch, as I expected.

I shook my head and started to put my arms up moving closer to him. I saw the hesitation in his step back and capitalized on it, catching him with a quick right jab. He grunted and tried to swing on me, but I weaved just in time to catch him in the ribs.

He quickly jolted back, his face red of embarrassment probably. I shake the nerves out of my arms. It's dead quiet right now. The only thing we can hear is our own breaths and scuffing of our sneakers against the floor.