A Essay About A Fighter
I’m sitting in some loud, smokey, old bus on my way to my first real competition. I couldn’t tell my dad, he doesn’t mind me liking boxing but the last thing he needs to worry about is why I come home from a weekend away with a black eye. So I told him it was a class trip. Technically I wasn’t lying. So here I am with the same merry band of misfits that had become like a second family to me, they supported me through all the crap this last month.
“GO BACK TO IOWA YOU BUCK TOOTH HOBO!” Blondie shouts at me as I’m getting off the bus… That’s all I need when Blondie Makayla’s minion told me she wanted to fight me to “knock me off my high cow” See how clever they are (note my drowning sarcasm)
“Hit her back! Duck down Lexi!” Shelby shouts as the scrawny blonde girl comes at me again. I duck getting tired of her, I put everything into my right hook knocking her down right before the teachers come. I turn to the guidance counselor who’s been with me since I came here. She shakes her and I can practically feel the disappointment speech from where I’m at. I follow to her office fully aware of the burly security guards we call “mall cop wanna be’s” on both sides of me like I’m some convict to contain. I sigh and think about what got me here, to this time, not to the school I know the smelly, yellow moving death trap did that job this morning.
I take a deep breath once I hear the bus stop (different bus, trust me on that), turning to Coach and my team I see huge grins on…