N/A: Okay, so, this is my current major project. Actually stuck with it for a while (for all of you who don't know me, that's a total gasp moment). So, yeah, I'm still polishing what I've got written so far... about maybe 25 pages, which is a helluva lot more than I ever wrote for any of my other projects. I swear, I must have about four half-finished novels lying around somewhere (and all with the same plot. Isn't that interesting? -.-) So, yeah. The whole point of this was to say, I'm really invested in this story (and prolly sending it to Scholastic novel writing), so, FEEDBACK! Please! It'd brighten my day if you could just take a moment to click the review box and leave an anonymous review with a :-) or a :-( So, please please please don't leave without reviewing. Giveme something. And, of course, "something" also extends to "extremely detailed feedback about plot, sentence structure, grammar, character development, and the few typos I'm sure are in there somewhere." So, yeah, details amazing as well. If you'd want to give the story an actual fairly-thorough edit, I'll love you forever; shoot me an e-mail/message. Anyway, I'll stop A/N-ing and leave you to my hopefully somewhat-entertaining everyplot story. Enjoy!

The Champion

Chapter 1 – Just Another Day

“Hope!”

Hope Jefferson’s head jerked up. “Oh. Hi Alyssa.”

Alyssa Spier slid down the wall of lockers to sit beside the other girl, who had a notebook in her lap. Alyssa peered curiously at a page covered in neat, miniscule green-pen script, her long legs folded in front of her so they wouldn’t trip anyone. “What’s that?”

Hope shrugged. “Not much. Just my journal.” She shut the notebook and looked up at Alyssa, brushing a lock of her red-brown hair out of her face. Hope had the kind of rich, shimmering mahogany hair that flipped at the end, just above her shoulders. She stood about five-three, a good bit shorter than the tall, slender Alyssa. Her blue-gray eyes sparkled with intelligence, and her delicate, freckled face grinned up at her friend.

“What’s up?” Hope asked Alyssa.

“She wants you to check her math homework,” came a voice from somewhere above the two; Tara Eaton dropped her bag and sat on Hope’s other side.

“Busted,” conceded Alyssa, laughing. She slid her folder to Hope, who opened it and scanned the topmost sheet of paper, tapping her pen against the corner of her mouth.

Alyssa brushed an annoying lock of her long golden-blonde hair back from her eyes. “Put it up,” Tara advised, looking over at her and offering a ponytail holder from her wrist. Alyssa accepted gratefully, taking the hair tie and deftly securing her hair in a loose bun so that her striking features were visible: a smallish, arched nose, gracefully high cheekbones, and clear blue eyes.

Hope looked up from the homework sheet she had been pouring over. “Number four is wrong,” she said, passing the paper back to Alyssa.

Tara and Alyssa exchanged a look of incredulity. “Not that we don’t appreciate it, or anything,” began Tara—Hope helped her with homework as often as Alyssa—“but, have I ever told you how freaky it is when you do that—that thing where you… you know… know the answers to the homework?”

There was a moment’s pause. Then, all three of them burst out laughing.

“Thanks,” Alyssa managed to say to Hope through her laughter, taking back the paper. Helping herself to Hope’s green pen, she clicked it open and looked down at number four.

“Alyssa,” said Hope mock-sternly, fighting back her own giggles as she took back her pen, “you’re doing all your math in pencil until you stop forgetting to carry the one.” Alyssa pretended to swear at Hope under her breath, although completely unable to keep a straight face, and fished a mechanical pencil out of her backpack.

Tara chuckled. “Nice going, ‘Lyssa,” she said, grinning, deep-set dark chocolate eyes alight with humor. Her frame was more muscled than either Hope’s or Alyssa’s, and her face sported a scattered few freckles, full lips, and a strong chin. Her hair, the same color as her eyes, was mostly straight, tied back in a low ponytail that fell to her mid-back. She yawned hugely and turned to Hope. “Wow, I went to bed so late last night… Kept finding more stuff wrong with that term paper.”

Hope gave a small smile. “What grade do you think you’ll get on it?”

“Ugh… crap, I don’t know,” groaned Tara, running a hand distractedly through her hair. “I’ll be really surprised if it’s an A, I can tell you that much.”

“I bet I’m getting a B or something,” said Hope gloomily.

“What? Come on!” Tara said, incredulous. “Tell me, have you ever gotten a B before?”

“I have too!” said Hope defensively. “Three or four times!”

Tara cracked up. “Dude, you’re probably the smartest person in this school. You can count the number of B’s you’ve gotten on one hand. Our evil bitch of a Global teacher likes you. You’re getting an A on this paper; don’t kid yourself.”

Hope shrugged. “Uh… okay, sure. Whatever you say…”

“Finished!” said Alyssa triumphantly, throwing down her pencil. The wide smile on her face faded slightly, replaced with a sympathetic expression. “Term paper problems?”

“Yep,” Tara confirmed with a grim smile.

Alyssa grinned suddenly, punching Tara lightly on the shoulder. “Not much to do about it now, though.” She said, as she stood and set to work opening her locker. “First period is about to start. There’s nothing you can do but ‘close your eyes and pray for rain.’”

Hope chuckled, recognizing one of the trademark phrases of their slightly crazy Spanish teacher. Tara allowed herself a half-smile. “Guess you’re right.”

Alyssa’s locker came open, and she pulled out her backpack. Hope stuck out her hand and allowed Alyssa to pull her up. As an afterthought, she produced a Starburst from her pocket and tossed it to Tara. “You need the sugar,” she said kindly, as Alyssa yanked Tara upright as well.

Tara smiled in earnest now, pocketing the candy.

“Better get to class!” called Alyssa over her shoulder, already halfway down the hallway as she took off running towards the stairwell. Tara rolled her eyes and Hope ran after Alyssa, in hysterics.

“You guys suck,” Tara said, laughing, and she shouldered her bag and followed them.

---

Alyssa hit the ground, hard. Hope cringed at the fall. “Are you alright?” she asked breathlessly. A derisive snort came from behind her, and she turned.

He was stocky and barrel-chested, with skin the color of cardboard. His head was covered in a thin layer of black stubble. He had a short, flat nose, mean little eyes, and a thin-lipped mouth curled in a sneer. He lounged against a wall of lockers, along with several other boys who looked almost exactly like him; big, mean, and dumb. His foot, stuck out into the middle of the deserted side-hallway, was what had sent Alyssa sprawling.

“What, Morgan?” snapped Tara, glaring at the one who had tripped Alyssa, clearly the leader. She reached down and helped Alyssa to her feet.

“S’up, Freakshow?” said the boy called Morgan, leering at her. Tara’s eyes narrowed even further.

“Are you alright?” Hope asked Alyssa again. Alyssa nodded, but grimaced as she rubbed her shoulder.

“Oh, sorry about that,” called the boy, Morgan, in a voice dripping with sarcasm. “Dyke.”

“What the hell?” demanded Tara, outraged. “Don’t talk to her like that, you son of a—”

Alyssa was laughing. Laughing. Hope could barely believe it, but as the blonde put a hand on Tara’s shoulder, there was no mistaking the mirth on her face. “Tara, it’s okay,” she said, still attempting to stifle her giggles, before breaking out into laughter once more. “I can’t believe it!” she gasped out, doubled over. “These guys are so pathetic. That’s seriously the best insult they could come up with?” She clutched Tara for support. “Oh wow, it’s so much more offensive now than the billion other times I’ve heard it.

Morgan’s face fell slightly, and his brows knit together in confusion, making him look even dumber than he had before. “Yeah? Well…” he struggled for a retort. “Sticking up for your girlfriend, huh?” he asked Tara, with a derisive chuckle.

Tara furiously shook her shoulder free of Alyssa’s hand and stood up to her full height. “She’s not my girlfriend,” she said vehemently. “I am not—”

“Oh yeah,” said Morgan, recovering now from Alyssa’s unexpected response to his tormenting. “That’s right, Eaton, you couldn’t be. Because I heard you were with Zach last night, sucking his—”

“Shut up, Morgan,” growled Tara. Alyssa stopped laughing at once, recognizing the tone in Tara’s voice.

“Watcha’ gonna do?” Morgan jeered. “Will you sic the nerd on me?” He put a hand on Hope’s shoulder. She could feel his putrid breath on her face. “Hey baby,” he said in a mock-sexy voice. “Wanna go over to my house and do advanced trig?” His cronies guffawed behind him.

“Leave her alone!” yelled Alyssa.

“Ooh, she talks big,” he said with a smirk, walking up to Alyssa and pushing her in the chest.

Hope already knew what would happen. She, Tara, and Alyssa had been best friends for years, and they all knew about Tara’s temper. None of them were exactly popular; they were their own little band of outcasts. The bullies seemed to gravitate towards them. Alyssa could laugh off any insult, which flustered her tormentors too much to do anything but put their heads together and try to think of a cutting retort. Hope herself tried to imitate Alyssa, even though more often than not she actually did care about what was being said. Tara… well, she got mad enough when someone was insulting her. When there was someone bullying her friends...

Tara stepped swiftly between Morgan and Alyssa. “Leave us alone,” she said softly, venom in her voice.

Hope bit her lip. She could see Tara’s hands balled into fists. She grabbed her friend’s wrist. “Tara, no,” she murmured in her ear. “He’s not worth it.”

Alyssa tugged Tara’s other arm. “First period,” she reminded her. “So… as fun as it was hanging out with you boys…” Hope and Alyssa turned Tara, whose mouth was a thin line, and walked her down the hallway.

“Are you okay?” asked Hope quietly.

Tara seemed to snap out of a daze. “Huh? Yeah. But that asshole Morgan...”

Hope peered over her shoulder at the cluster of bullies. “Tara!” she cried.

Tara spun around, just in time to see Morgan hurl a heavy combo lock at her. Or, it was probably supposed to be for her, but the tough’s aim was off.

Things happened fast, too fast for Hope to really register. Alyssa raised a hand in front of her face as the lock speeded toward her. It bounced off her hand and shattered. No—no, that couldn’t be right. It bounced off her hand and shattered—not shattered, broke into a few pieces—on the floor.

Tara moved lightening-fast. In an instant, she was back at Morgan’s side. She caught his arm and twisted it expertly behind his back, making the thug’s face contort in pain. “Leave us the fuck alone,” she whispered venomously in his ear. He stood stock-still, not daring to move. Tara was breathing hard.

“Tara,” said Hope, pleading. Someone had thrown a combo lock at Tara Eaton’s best friends; Hope had no doubt that Tara would break that someone’s arm. “Don’t,” said Hope, not moving from where she stood, next to Alyssa, halfway down the hallway. “You’ll get suspended, at least.”

Tara glared daggers at Morgan for a moment. Hope held her breath.

“If you knew what I could do to you…” She flung him roughly away from her, and he staggered into the wall of lockers. Without a backward glance, she turned on her heel and walked back up the hallway to rejoin her friends. “Let’s go,” she said, without looking at them. Mutely, they followed her to class.

---

Their teacher was late. Tara sat at her desk, head in her hands, still shaken. Alyssa sat at a vacant desk. Hope was perched on the edge of Tara’s, an arm around her shoulder. The rest of the class was chattering animatedly, taking advantage of their teacher’s absence, but Alyssa and Hope took their cue from Tara and stayed silent.

“That was… scary,” said Tara finally, in a small voice. “I would have broken his arm, if you hadn’t been there, Hope…”

Hope swallowed. The last time Tara had lost her temper, someone had ended up with a broken wrist. It pained her that she couldn’t help her friend, but all she could do was plead with her to calm down.

“What’s happening to me? It was… I was so angry. I was barely even thinking…”

“God… Tara…”

Tara buried her face in her arms. Her voice was muffled when she said, “You have to watch me. Make sure I don’t…” She trailed off and stared miserably at her desk.

They sat in a silence thick with unsaid words.

“Who was that?” asked Alyssa, after a little bit.

“Morgan?” Tara spoke in a defeated, drained monotone. “Morgan Cassel. He’s a few grades above us, and a huge asshole. He’s given me trouble before…”

The chatter in the room died abruptly. Hope glanced up; their teacher had entered. Ms. Whitmore, everyone’s worst enemy: prune-faced and evil, her gray hair was tied back in a severe bun, and she surveyed the classroom with an icy glare. “Get in your seats,” she snapped. “When I call your name, come up and give me your term paper.”

With a sigh, Hope got up, patted Tara on the back in a consoling gesture, and returned to her seat.

“We’ll keep an eye on you,” whispered Alyssa as she too stood and moved towards her own seat. “Don’t worry.”