The Fighters
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C. Sweets
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19.9K
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22
“Stop staring, Ryker.” Lilly says it in her head while she’s deadlifting before sunrise… and he keeps staring anyway. Before any boy gets in her way, Lilly is just trying to survive Montisque Academy without crying in the courtyard again, keep her head down, and get strong enough to feel untouchable. Then her teacher, Mr. Coleson, calmly slides a stack of papers toward her and admits he isn’t just grading. He’s her father’s bodyguard. So now Lilly’s got a gorgeous, rule-breaking adult shadowing her hallways, a rich gym boy watching her like he already owns the view, and bullies who love an audience. She should hate the attention—she does hate it—which makes it worse when her skin still prickles. And you know that moment when you can feel gossip being born? Yeah, that. Coleson walks her out after school, fingers brushing her elbow like it’s nothing, and every head turns. “Lilliana Lorenzo?” the front office calls.
Chapter 1
LILLY
“Liliana Anne Rubio!” I hear my mother yell from downstairs.
I jump out of bed and look at my radio, seeing the time. I panic for a moment and run to my door, hearing my mom rushing up the stairs now.
“I’m sorry, I’m up! I’ll be down in a minute!” I yell down.
I run to my dresser and slip on my uniform—a loose black button-up collared shirt and an old, red-and-black checkered skirt with dirty black sneakers and a red jacket.
I pull all my hair up into a messy bun. I quickly rush to the bathroom and brush my teeth.
“I swear if you are not down here in five minutes, I will drag you down the stairs by your hair!” my mother yells.
Just like that, I grab my bag, toss it onto my shoulder, and head down the stairs. My mom grabs my arm and yanks me out the door to the city bus stop. We just barely make it in time.
My mom gets off before me as I finish the loop to school. No one from my school rides the bus, which is honestly great for me.
Montisque Academy Prep. My personal hell. I only got in by having a high test score on the entrance exam, granting me financial aid and scholarships. My mother would never pay for me to go here.
We’re pretty poor because we don’t accept my father’s money. She’s made it clear she doesn’t care for me—that if she could, she would have put me in foster care, but my father wouldn’t allow it.
As soon as I walk onto campus, I dart to my locker. I throw my bag in it and pull out my books for my first lesson of the day—AP Italian. The halls quickly fill with people talking loudly and rushing, bumping into me.
I look around and head straight to my class. I wait by the door before the bell, waiting for the teacher to open it. No one speaks to me as people gather around the door for class.
Once we get into class, I head to my seat by the teacher’s desk and window. After five minutes, the final bell rings and the doors shut.
“Buongiorno classe. Oggi abbiamo un test. Non sarà scritto, ma orale, dato che ho beccato diversi di voi a imbrogliare l’ultima volta.” The teacher immediately tells us about a test he will be conducting.
“Lilly, dimmi cosa dici a qualcuno se ti chiede di descriverti?” he asks me, raising an eyebrow.
I sigh and think for a moment. How would you describe me?
“Sono molto tranquilla e riservata,” I say, tapping my pen.
He nods and continues asking other students to describe themselves or their features, going over the basics.
School goes by so slowly. Most of my classes are advanced placement, so I’ll pay less when I go to college. If I even go, honestly. My dad wants me back in his business one day.
It’s finally lunchtime, and I head outside to my normal spot, under a tree in the courtyard. I pull out my father’s old MP3 player and headphones.
“Aww, look, it’s the school’s charity case again.” I hear Noel mock me.
Noel is the school’s queen bee—a cheerleader, dating the quarterback, perfect body, ice-blonde hair, and blue eyes. Oh, and rich.
Carry is pale with dark-brown chin-length hair, big lips, and lots of plastic surgery, while Ariel is darker with braided black hair, green eyes, and an hourglass body.
“Tell me, when will you understand you just don’t belong here? I mean, you have no friends, no social life, no money, or family,” Carry adds.
The trio of women laugh at me. I just sigh, trying to ignore them. As if I could. They won’t leave until I either cry or snap.
“Come on, give her some credit. The teachers like her. I heard Mr. Coleson wants to tap it. That’s why she stays late with him most days,” Luca laughs, walking over and sliding his hands to Noel’s stomach.
“Non vi sopporto tutti. Giuro che vi prenderei a calci nel sedere se non rischiassi la sospensione.” I roll my eyes and put my book away, getting up.
They all look at me, confused, none speaking Italian fluently. I turn and see a group of people watching me, clearly understanding me, laughing and talking among themselves.
“So pathetic. How about you go back into hiding, you troll,” Ariel scoffs at me.
I head to the stairs and put my headphones back in. I sit on the side and flip back open my book. I hear the group still talking about me, then about a party tonight.
When school is finally out for the day, I head to Mr. Coleson’s class and sigh, sitting in front of his desk.
“Another hard day?” he asks, grading papers without looking up.
“As always. Why can’t they just leave me alone? I do nothing to bother them, but somehow I am always ridiculed for being myself,” I say as he passes me papers to help him grade.
“Because you have what they lack. Think of it, Lil. You are extremely smart. You got into this school with no help from anyone. Plus, you are very pretty. You just tend to seclude yourself, making you unapproachable,” he says, leaning back in his seat.
“Why would I want people to talk to me when I know it just leaves room to be treated horribly again?” I say honestly.
“You can’t push everyone away because of who your dad is. I get you don’t talk to him or have much to do with him, but if people knew, you would be the queen bee here. Instead, you live in the housing apartments and refuse help from him,” Mr. Coleson says, serious now.
“Please don’t tell me I need to hear him out. You know why I can’t. Last we spoke, he wanted me to live with him and his new wife and their children. I don’t want to be a burden on them or give them the satisfaction that I need him to live,” I say, not looking up.
“Then why do you still train?”
I look up at him and cock my head sideways, thinking.
Mr. Coleson works for my father; he was hired to be my bodyguard. We both know I don’t want to go back there or home. I want to leave for college if I can get a grant, though it seems hard. My father often tells him he wants me home eventually.
“I have to. I may not like him or his family, but I am a target when people learn of me,” I say, leaning back.
“Fine. You want to go to the gym?” He laughs, helping me up and putting the papers away.
With that, we head out.
