Delinquent (Academy of Misfits Book 1)

by Bea Paige

  Between them, I’m a ball of feeling, emotion, but most of all I’m lustful and horny. So horny that I reach for Ford’s arse and yank him closer. Sonny growls, biting on the delicate skin of my neck in mock jealousy. I’m pretty sure he’s enjoying this moment as much as I am if the thick ridge of his cock digging into my lower back is anything to go by.

  I’m not religious, but after this encounter I’m going to need to go to confession.

  Just when I’m getting to the point of no return, they both step back, entirely synchronised, leaving me breathless, confused and wanting.

  “What are you…?” I begin.

  “Now fight,” Ford says, raising his fists.

  “Wh-what?” I manage to mumble.

  “No emotion. Switch it off. Do it now,” Ford insists. “Funnel what you feel, use it. Fight me, Asia.”

  The thing is I don’t want to fight him. I don’t want to fight Sonny. I want their lips and their hands on me once more. But I guess that’s the point. Ford knows me better than I know myself. Emotion does rule me, and if I want to survive, I mustn’t let it.

  31

  Saturday night rolls around quickly and there’s a restless kind of energy that distracts every pupil at Oceanside. We’re all on edge, me more so than anyone. Yesterday, Ford showed me how emotion can be a distraction, and whilst Sonny has trained alongside us both, he still tries to persuade me to back out. Even now, as we approach the Tower he’s doing the same. If I could be a lover, not a fighter, I would. But I can’t.

  “Monk’s a fucking beast, Asia. He nearly took me out…”

  “Are you saying just because I’m a girl that I’m not a good fighter?” I retort, whilst Ford stays silent.

  “No, that isn’t what I’m saying. We both know you can fight, Asia. I also know that Monk has a mean fucking punch. If he hits you right, you’re out cold.”

  “I know that…”

  Sonny stops, pulling up sharp. “Look, I give a shit about you, Asia. Goddamn it. Let me or Ford stand in for you,” he begs.

  “No fucking way. I back out now, I’m done.”

  “Ford, you need to tell her to stop. This isn’t a game.”

  Ford looks between us, the moonlight casting a shadow across his face. “Asia is right. She can’t back down. She must fight and she will beat him.” His features are tight, determined.

  “Asia…” Sonny starts, exasperated.

  “No. I’ve made my decision, Sonny. This fight is happening whether you like it or not. Nothing you can say will change my mind.”

  Pink and Kate give me worried glances, but they don’t try to persuade me to change my mind. They know me better than that. For the rest of the walk we all remain quiet with our thoughts.

  The Tower is jammed full by the time we arrive at midnight. There are people spilling out of the open metal door and more on the beach surrounding the building. I stop to stare at the horde of kids who’ve all come to watch this fight. Every student from Oceanside is here, alongside the same amount of local kids. News sure travels fast around here.

  “Are you sure about this?” Pink asks, gnawing on her bottom lip with her teeth. “Monk’s gunning for your blood, Asia. The guy’s unhinged.”

  She’s right, of course. This may be the single most stupid thing I’ve ever done. I might’ve had fights with boys before, but they never really lasted that long. Someone would always come and break it up; an adult, the police, other kids. Here in the Tower the rules are simple. Fight until someone can’t stand up again.

  That’s it.

  I need to make these lessons with Ford count because no one is going to step in to stop it.

  “Asia, you can back out. No one would think any worse of you,” Kate says, even though she doesn’t believe that one little bit.

  “You know that isn’t true. I need to do this. I need to show them all I’m not weak. Monk went too far last week, and I’m done with it. So, no Kate. I will not back down.”

  She nods tightly, glancing at Pink worriedly. Silence descends as we enter the Tower. The crowd parts, forming a ring around us and now Monk, as he strolls into the open space with a glint of unbridled joy on his face. The guy already thinks he’s won.

  “Skank,” he says in greeting.

  “Prick,” I retort, not to be outdone.

  The majority of the crowd hisses and boos, their hate directed at me.

  “Enough!” Camden shouts, and they all fall silent as he jumps down from his raised seat overlooking the room and heads into the space alongside me and Monk. Pink and Kate filter into the surrounding crowd, whilst Sonny and Ford remain by my side. Camden eyes the three of us with distaste. Bling is not here; he’s hidden behind the face of the notorious gang leader. Tonight, his expression is dark, bitter and filled with violence of its own.

  He’s wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung joggers and the latest huarache trainers. I notice that his chest is covered in a sheen of light sweat as though he’s just arrived from a workout. Low on his stomach is a tattoo of a lion, its mouth open in a roar. My eyes rove over the intricate tattoo that slides beneath the band of his joggers. I wonder how far down it reaches.

  “Listen up,” he commands, “A score will be settled tonight. Monk from the Hackney’s Hackers crew versus Asia.” The crowd erupts into excited jeers and catcalls once more. The majority seems to be on Monk’s side, and I can’t help but notice Emerald and Diamond as they glare at me with obvious hate. Camden lets the noise continue for a short while before he places his fingers in his mouth and whistles. The room falls into silence once more.

  “Like all fights at the Tower, there are rules.” He holds up his fist, lifting up a finger one by one as he reels them off. “If anyone intervenes, the fight is void. If any weapons are used, the fight is void. This is fist-on-fist only. Got it?” he looks at Monk, who growls but removes the knuckle dusters from his hand. The dirty, rotten, bastard.

  “The fight will end when one side submits or is knocked out. Each side will give their terms and once the fight is over and the winner revealed, the terms will be obeyed. These are the rules of The Tower. These are the rules we live by. No exceptions, not even for you, Asia.” Camden adds. I guess his respect for me as a graffiti artist has finally had its day. He looks between Monk and me. There’s no emotion. None. It’s scary, honestly.

  “Do you both understand?”

  “I understand perfectly,” Monk sneers, delight lighting his eyes. He thinks he’s going to win. The motherfucker is deluded.

  Or, perhaps that’s me?

  “Asia?” Camden turns to face me, his face blank, unreadable.

  “Got it,” I retort, straightening my shoulders and nodding tightly.

  Camden raises his arms out to the side, indicating for the crown to give us room. They move back so that just Monk and I remain in the centre of the circle.

  “Give them space to fight. Those who fail to listen, who try and intervene, will be chucked out of the Tower,” Camden shouts over the growing chatter, though his gaze lands firmly on Ford and Sonny standing just behind me now. “If there are any last-minute conversations to be had, I suggest you have them now.”

  Low bass music begins to play in the background, fuelling the already tense air as Monk and I glare at each other. One of his cronies steps in to whisper something in his ear, and he grins slowly. His resulting laughter grating on my last nerve.

  Ford appears in front of me, blocking my view. Sonny beside him. Both look at me grimly.

  “Monk is strong, Asia. He has a powerful punch, but he’s slow, heavy on his feet. You have the advantage of speed and stamina. Tire him out as much as possible,” Ford says, resting his hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. “When he’s run out of steam, aim for his weak spots. His face, kidneys, groin. Don’t waste your time on his torso. If you can take out his legs, get him on the ground then hit him until you can’t anymore.” Ford grabs something from his back pocket. It’s a roll of masking tape. “This will keep your fingers fr
om breaking,” he explains, wrapping it around both my knuckles. It’s tight but it gives me some form of comfort. It’s naïve to think it won’t really hurt hitting Monk, but at least this will help to lessen the damage.

  “I know you want to do this, Asia. I get it. But you can walk away. We’ll protect you from him. I promise,” Sonny adds vehemently. He grabs my hand willing me to listen to him. I shake my head, pulling it free from his grasp.

  “You can’t. You know that, right? It will never end if I don’t stand up to him. It doesn’t matter what you promise. He will keep coming for me.”

  “Fuck!” Sonny swears before bending down and kissing me roughly. It’s a quick kiss; bruising, brutal, and the complete opposite to how he kissed me before. When he pulls back, Ford is staring at us both, fire blazing in his eyes.

  “Take your lip and nose ring out. Do it quickly,” Ford says, holding his hand out. I do as he asks, dropping them into his palm. He pockets them. “Don’t lose focus. You’ve got this.”

  I nod tightly. I’ve got this.

  “Enough!” Camden snaps. When I look over at him, that same fire burns brightly in his gaze. I wonder if he can see it in me too. For a moment I see something flicker within the fire. Respect, definitely. Regret, perhaps that too. It doesn’t matter now anyway, this is happening.

  “Begin,” he adds abruptly. Then I lose sight of him in the crowd.

  A hush descends. The tension rises alongside the heat rolling off the onlookers. As I step forward, my body hums with repressed rage. It’s welcoming, an old friend. Something I’ve come to rely on over the years, but rather than letting it take me over like I usually do, I force the storm within me to coil tight. I funnel it into something useful, something deadly, just like Ford has taught me.

  Monk is the first to make his move, rushing forward and throwing a punch that I avoid with ease. He sprawls into a few of the onlookers behind me, knocking them over with the force. Twisting to face him, I bounce lightly on my feet.

  “Slippery bitch!” he snarls, his face red with anger as he runs at me again. I dodge him.

  He spins on his feet, charging at me like a bull would a red rag. I dodge him once more, barking out a laugh as he tumbles into the crowd showing himself up.

  “You gonna fight, bitch, or are we just playing here?” He scrambles to his feet, pushed forward by a few of the onlookers behind him.

  “That’s what I thought we were doing, only you keep ending up on your arse,” I retort, beginning to enjoy myself. I can do this.

  Monk lets out a roar and this time when he goes for me, he doesn’t miss. I manage to get out of his way just enough to feel his fist meet my shoulder and not my face. But damn does it hurt. I stumble back a little, but right myself quickly enough. Out of the corner of my eye I see Pink draw in a breath and Sonny start to step forward. Ford grabs him back, shaking his head. One thought flies through my head right at that moment. If Monk does manage to punch me in the face, I’m gonna be out. Game over. The force behind his punch will win.

  Shaking out the pain, I duck his next punch and then throw two of my own. My uppercut manages to find his jaw whilst I twist beneath him and punch him in the kidneys as hard as I can. That makes him grunt with pain, but it isn’t enough to end him. The guy’s a beast.

  The crowd fucking roars.

  The next five minutes is a blur of me trying to avoid Monk’s punches and attempting to gain the upper hand. I manage to get a few more punches in, and some kicks too, but more often than not I’m the one avoiding his attempts at knocking me out. He responds with a few hard punches as well, and a couple of times I’m left reeling as his fist meets my chest and my chin, even my fucking tit. But somehow, I manage to avoid the worst of it, and am able to keep him on his toes without being nearly as exhausted as he is. Ten minutes into our fight and Monk is already on the verge of buckling. I can see that in the heaviness of his steps and the shortness of his breath. He runs hot and fast, no doubt winning fights with brute strength and one punch knockouts, whereas I’m more of a slow burn building to an inferno thanks to Ford and all his training.

  “Bitch, I’m done playing. This is over,” Monk shouts after stumbling into the crowd again. The guy fights without a lick of sense. A worthy opponent would have figured out my tactics by now and used them to their advantage. Not Monk; he’s thick as shit, thank fuck.

  Taking one last charge at me, I see my opportunity and take it. This time when I dodge him, I swing down low and sweep my leg out, taking his out from beneath him. He goes down with a crash and the whole room erupts.

  The crowd lets out a frenzied roar.

  Some of them are baying for my blood, whilst others are finally backing me. Either way, I take Ford’s advice and leap on top of him, raining blows on his face with all the strength I can muster. My clenched fists land punches to his cheeks, his chin, his nose, his temple, his forehead. I hit hard and fast knowing this is my only opportunity to have a chance at winning.

  I don’t let up.

  I don’t stop.

  All the rage I’ve been holding back pours from inside me and like a storm that cannot be contained, I wreak havoc. He attempts to throw me off him at one point, but I clench a hold of his torso and arms between my thighs, refusing to let go, knowing that if he were to flip me on my back like Ford had on the field that day all those weeks ago, he’d win. If I’m honest, I’m not entirely sure where my strength comes from. Looking at us both, the winner should be obvious. He’s three times the width of me. He’s strong, built, muscular. Yet, here I am beating him. Like David and Goliath.

  “FUCK HIM UP!” someone screams, the crowd now roaring with frenetic energy fuelling the bloodlust in me. It takes me over until I become someone I don’t recognise. Someone who could kill given half the chance. By the time I’m finished, Monk’s face is a bloody mess and I can no longer feel my hands. When I know he’s finally beat, I stand up on wobbly legs, glaring at the crowd. They’re going wild. My chest heaves as I look around the room as my body begins to shake uncontrollably. Pain starts to register beneath the adrenaline. Before me, faces mingle with one another. I pant, my focus blurring.

  “Monk tried to fuck with me.” I yell, pointing to his prone body on the floor. “Let this be a warning to you all, this is what happens when you do!” I make sure to look specifically at Camden then. He doesn’t look away, accepting the gauntlet I’ve just laid down.

  Kate and Pink step forward, and I stumble towards them, my body giving way. But it isn’t either of them that catches me when I fall, but Ford. I’m vaguely aware of him lifting me up and striding out of the Tower. Once the cool air hits me, I finally lose consciousness.

  32

  “Asia, can you hear me?”

  I’m vaguely aware of a familiar voice talking to me through a thick haze of pain.

  Everything hurts.

  Every-fucking-where. Why do I hurt so bad…?

  Then I remember the fight.

  I remember Monk and the screaming arseholes surrounding us all baying for blood, my blood in particular. But most of all I remember the feeling of relief when it was all over.

  I beat him.

  I stood my ground and showed everyone what I’m made off. Fuck him, fuck all the bastards who’ve tried to make my life a misery.

  “Asia, here, have some water.”

  I groan, my eyes flicking open. But I’m not in the Tower, and I’m not on the beach… I’m pretty sure I’m lying on a bed.

  “Where am I?” My voice sounds weak, soft.

  “My room,” Ford responds gently. He leans over and cups the back of my head with his hand then rests the water bottle against my bottom lip before I can ask how the hell I got here. Pushing the bottle away, I sit up. My head spins a little at the sudden movement.

  “What happened?”

  “You passed out. I carried you back here.” He shrugs, like that isn’t a big deal.

  “Are you like Superman or something? You carried me all the way back he
re, on your own?”

  “Yeah. My cape’s in the wardrobe, want me to put it on?” There’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes and a tentative smile drawing up his lips. The fact that he’s trying to crack a joke at all is kind of endearing. He’s always so bloody serious. Now he seems almost at ease in his loose tracksuit bottoms and vest top that shows off strong arms and shoulders.

  “Didn’t you know Clark’s my middle name?”

  “Hey, don’t listen to that arsehole. I helped carry you,” Sonny says, stepping out of the bathroom.

  “You’re full of shit,” I say to Ford, smiling, then wince when my jaw hurts. I lift my hand to my face, gingerly pushing against the sore spot. “Motherfucker, that hurts.”

  “It’s gonna bruise. Pink said she’ll help cover it up, so you don’t get questioned by Mr Carmichael,” Sonny explains, pulling up a chair next to me. He looks at me with concern, worry creasing his eyes.

  “Is Monk…?” I ask, looking between them both.

  “Completely fucked. The guy’s never going to mess with you again, Asia. You were amazing tonight.” Ford’s grey-green eyes blaze with pride, but honestly, I don’t know how to react now the storm has passed and the anger is gone.

  “I don’t feel amazing,” I say heavily.

  “It’ll feel better in a few days,” Ford says, looking at his watch that is flashing 3.17am. I’ve been out for a few hours at least.

  “You’ll need to rest and stay in bed,” Sonny continues. “Think of me and Ford as your personal butlers. We’ll get you anything you want, so long as you rest, starting right now.”

  “What, like Butlers in the Buff?” I deadpan.

  “Whatever tickles your fancy,” Sonny responds, in a faux posh voice. He winks, I smile, and Ford rolls his eyes.

  “Seriously guys, I appreciate your concern, but I’ll get over the pain. It’s just…”