Page 48 of Twisted Lies

“No,” the kid pleads in gasping, painful breaths, “I can fight.”

Derick shakes his head. “You know we can’t call the paramedics for you.”

I can tell the kid needs the money. No one would take a beating like that unless they had to.

The taller guy reaches into the jar and pulls out a handful of cash. He holds it out to the kid and waits. The kid grabs it, hiding his face for a moment, and then, looking up, he thanks the tall guy with a nod. Derick starts to clap, applauding the guy’s kindness and sacrifice.

His clowning around is replaced with a solemn face. He isn’t always the fool. People start to join in, clapping. Tall guy needs to get paid too.

“That’s what we do here,” Derick tells the small crowd as he persuades the crowd to pitch in and fill the jar so we can have cash to win. “We take care of our own.”

My body tenses, and I wait for Derick to look at me. He watches a girl help the kid away. He shoves the money in his pocket and hurries off. The kid is no fool. For every person willing to be decent, there are ten more waiting rob you.

“Any more takers?” Derick shakes the jar toward the crowd. “If you want to fight…” He looks at the half-empty jar. “You have to fill it up.”

I grip Wyatt’s arm with my hand. “Hey, you want to fight?”

He looks at me. “Fight who?”

“Me,” I practically shout.

Wyatt laughs. “Come on, Astrid. I might challenge the tall kid. He looks like he could use a fight.” Wyatt ignores me and turns to Nova. “What’s his name?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “We call him Ace because he doesn’t let people down.”

Wyatt takes a step forward, but I step in front of him. “No, I’ll fight him.”

“Astrid, you’re a girl.” Wyatt yanks my arm and sends me back. “You can’t fight a guy.”

Playfully I push Wyatt back, striking him in the shoulder. “Are you scared of me? You should be. You’re not as good as you think.”

“I am that good,” Wyatt answers flatly. “You’re a girl. I’m not fighting a girl.”

Derick is standing by our side before I can argue. “There’s no rule about fighting girls. Some of the girls here are mean. My cousin’s one.” He points to Nova, who rolls her eyes.

“I want to fight,” I declare, stepping forward, “Ask that tall kid if he wants to fight me. He can take the whole jar if I lose.”

Wyatt grabs my hand before I walk off with Derick. Derick whispers something to Ace, but Wyatt catches Ace’s eye and shakes his head. Ace looks at Derick and shakes his head, ending my challenge. This time when I push Wyatt, I really mean it.

“You are an ass,” I tell him, “I could use some money, so stop ruining it for me.”

“Astrid, stop messing around,” he barks.

I push him again, and this time, he wraps his arms around my waist. He tries to pin my body flush against his, but I plow my elbow into his ribs, freeing myself.

“Fill the jar if you want to see them fight.” Derick holds the jar out to the crowd, and people start filling it with bills. I freeze, watching the money go past the rim. I look at Wyatt, and he shrugs his shoulders, walking past me into the ring.

“At Monarch, girls fight all takers,” I tell him, “Only weak kids get a pass.”

My adrenaline rises as we square off in the ring. The excitement dances over my skin as I watch his muscles flex underneath his beat-up T-shirt. I place myself in a stance and wait for Wyatt to start. In my head, I recall how Wyatt moves. It won’t be hard to take him down using that intel against him. I bounce on my feet, eager to show him that I’m not weak, when I get a shock. He bends over and charges me, grabbing by my waist. He lifts me off the ground and over his back. My fists hit his back as he spins me around. As I’m screaming and kicking, he’s making a fool out of me. I don’t abide by dirty moves, but I lift up his T-shirt and rake my nails over his back.

Wyatt lets me go, and I almost land on my ass. Up on my feet, I strike him in his stomach with a one-two punch. It’s like pounding a concrete wall. The apparent fact that I might be in trouble starts to creep in. Panting, I lift my fists, wanting to punch that smirk off his face. I strike out toward him, and he catches my fist in his hand, pulling me in. I pummel my fist into his side, and he lets me go, sucking in air. I dance back quickly with my hair in my eyes.

Wyatt gives me a look like I might be in trouble. Good. Let him stop playing. He jabs out, and I duck, placing a punch to his stomach. He takes it lightly as he grabs me by the wrist and tries to twist my arm around my back. I narrowly escape and come at him with a roundhouse kick to his hip. He winces, staring at me as if I shouldn’t have done that.

“You done playing?” I shout at him.

The small crowd laps it up as people clap and shout each time we lunge at one another. But my minor victory is short-lived. Wyatt grabs me, pinning me, and I can’t straighten up. I try, but it’s impossible to get him off my hurting body. I kick out my legs, hoping to catch him, but it’s impossible. I refuse to bite him, though some other loser might.

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