Page 34 of Crew
Sunday stepped up next to us with a high-pitched giggle. Then it dropped low in my head and faded out. Everything moved at a slower pace. She looked behind me, her eyes widening, her laugh changing to a yell. Race lifted his head to look too, craning to see behind me. Alex tensed even more, stiffening up.
I could see another girl's hair lift in the air as she suddenly dropped in position to jump out of the way.
It all clicked in the back of my mind, and then suddenly--time snapped back into place, and everything was a big whoosh!
A hand clamped on Alex's shoulder and yanked him backward.
I began to pivot around, dropping down like the other girl had, but I wasn't running for safety. I needed to get my bearings.
Zellman was on top of Alex. I tried to lunge forward, but someone pulled me backwards. Alex's members came running from across the room. One jumped on top of the pool table.
All hell was breaking loose. Again.
More bodies ran into the room, and I was in the air, going backward.
Cross ran forward. He bent down, wrapped an arm around one of Alex's guys, and threw him onto the pool table. He took out the other guy on there at the same time.
I looked around to find Race in front of me. He was the one dragging me back. I put the brakes on, my feet skidding across the floor as I tried to stop.
But I couldn't.
As I moved, Channing's voice entered my head. "Go with the movement. Use it to your advantage."
So I did.
I turned around again, running with the momentum, and stepped up on the wall. My body followed, like I was going to run up it, but I threw my leg over. I flipped, and as I landed with one foot on the floor, my other leg snapped around, kicking Race smack across his face. It was a perfect side kick.
Channing would've been proud.
Race fell, and I didn't wait for his next move.
I sprinted forward into the writhing mass of bodies.
Everyone was punching, throwing, kicking.
Zellman and Alex were trading blows.
Jordan took on three of Alex's crew. Why they seemed to wait for their turn to trade blows with him was beyond me. They weren't the best fighters, which was good for us.
Cross fought three of his own. The two from the pool table had regrouped, and a third headed for Cross' backside.
I went for him, but he was moving too fast. I wouldn't be able to stop him, so I planted myself in front of him and bent forward, using the same momentum as before. I kicked up and connected right under his chin. He fell backward into Race, who was advancing on me again.
Race caught him, stopped, and looked at me, then at the guy. His eyes were wide and he looked furious as he reared back and punched the guy. The member fell to the floor, unconscious before he landed.
Race winced and started for me again.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a knife. "Stop!"
He did, holding his hands up. "I was trying to protect you."
I could feel Cross behind me, moving and hitting. Our backs bumped up against each other, but neither of us reacted. As everyone else kept fighting around us, Race and I had a small pocket of civility. For now.
I brandished the knife. "I don't need your protection."
He rubbed at his jaw, eyes flashing. "Yeah. I'm getting that." He raised his hands again. "I'm not here to make waves against you."
Suddenly, Cross was shoved backward into me. I pitched forward, and Race shot his hands out like he was going to catch me, but I rolled to the side, coming right back to my feet. Race gave a frustrated groan, but he met the member who was raining down punches on Cross.
