Expelled

by Claire Adams

  I laughed, “No. And my roommate should be home anytime, so it's a good time for you to leave as well.”

  “Well, I hope I can see you again outside of our little project.”

  I rolled my eyes and said, “Goodnight, Jet.”

  He winked at me as I nudged him towards the door. He opened the door and headed outside, slowly closing the door behind him.

  I sat back down in front of the easel, and admired my handiwork. I thought carefully about the future of the project. What Jet didn't know was that I intended on changing him every time he came, but not in the way he expected. I intended to have him remove a piece of clothing every time we met; that would be my changing subject.

  Chapter Eight

  Jet

  Today was the day of my fight, and my nerves were raw. They always were on a fight night. It was amazing how clear things became, however, when the bell rang. Every time I’ve been in a fight, I’ve felt the same way. Fighters always get that fight-or-flight instinct just before getting into the ring. It was such an intense feeling that it almost felt natural to flee instead of staying for the fight. I knew a few guys who let that feeling get the best of them, and they ended up backing out of their fights at the last minute. I tried to let the fear in as much as I could. I fed on it so that when the bell rang, I could turn it off, and do what I came there to do. It was like WAR, and I intended on winning every time.

  MMA as a sport had only been in the school system for a few years, and I had taken full advantage of it. Screw playing football; MMA was the future, and I would get further faster by taking that sport and running with it.

  My fight that day was a conference battle with another school. I was in the 180-pounder weight class, and I was pure muscle waiting to give someone a beating. I didn't like to brag, but I was one of the best fighters in the nation, I was well-rounded as a fighter, I could come out as a striker and kill it, or take it to the ground, and do just as well. Most fighters were one or the other, not too many were both, but I was one of them, and because of that, most guys were scared to fight me.

  My coach and team were warming me up before the fight. It was important to perform stretching and light pad work before a fight. It got you warmed up, but didn't exhaust you for the fight. I drank a bit of water, but not enough to cramp up.

  It was time. The last fight had ended, and they would be calling my name soon. My team and I got organized behind the curtain that I would emerge from. I was moving fluidly on my feet, my heart racing, the fight-or-flight response in overdrive. My parents, as well as my sister, and a bunch of friends had purchased front row tickets to the fight, so I knew I had a huge support system out there, ready to cheer me on as I went to represent my school. I was always surprised to see my mom cheering. She hated when I got hurt, so the idea of me choosing to be a professional fighter had not gone over well with her at first. She told me to consider law school instead. It would all be paid for, after all. In the end, however, she accepted that this was what I wanted for my life, and supported me anyway. I never expected her to attend the fights, but she was always there, cheering at the beginning and trying to wipe the blood off my face in the end.

  She was a great woman.

  I heard my opponent’s name announced, The Great Destroyer, and he emerged from his own curtain, his music of choice blaring in the background. His fans screamed for him so hard it was almost hard to hear the music. Fans at fights were always losing control; it was like they already smelled the blood before it was spilled. He stopped before going in, talking to his team, and then he entered the octagon and circled it as he waited for me.

  It was my turn to head out. They switched the music to my choice, which just so happens to be “No More Mr. Nice Guy.” It makes me feel jacked, and ready to fight. They announced my name and I headed out with my team in tow. The crowd went wild, and I could hear family and friends shouting my name. Talk about an adrenaline rush, you don't get one better than that. I stopped before the octagon, where my team applied Vaseline to my eyebrows to avoid having sweat drip down into my eyes and blinding me before the fight. My teammates patted me on the back and told me to go kill things. They left me to go to my corner, and I entered the octagon to join my opponent.

  We both positioned ourselves in our respective corners and waited for the bell to ring. When it did, we met in the middle, and tapped fists as a sign of respect before we beat each other to pulp. Once that was over with, The Destroyer charged at me, and threw a right that snapped my head to the side from the impact. Blood spurted from my mouth, and I tasted copper. I hated the taste of blood, which sucked, ‘cause I tasted it often. The Destroyer had power on his side, there was no doubt about that. I heard my corner screaming for me to keep my hands up. Obviously―how could I be so stupid? Don't ever get too comfortable in the ring, Jet. That's what my coach had always drilled into my head, and there I was, letting that punch dictate the fight so far.

  Just as I was getting ready to hit him, he came at me with a one, two, three. All at once, and the combination caused the sounds of bone cracking against flesh―something that always turned my mom's stomach. I wasn't entirely sure where my game was headed today, but I needed to start focusing now. The blows had all landed on my face, but thankfully, they hadn't been hard ones. The Destroyer went for another swing, but I blocked him. We exchanged jabs for a few minutes before the bell rang, and we returned to our corners.

  Round One was over, and I sat down on the stool. My teammates applied an ice pack to my shoulder and gave me a sip of water to rinse my mouth out with. I had a split lip, and my coach applied something to clot the blood. While they were doing all that, they were yelling at me about what I should have been doing, and asking why the hell my hands weren't up blocking those punches. They were also informing me about the weaknesses they found in The Destroyer, and how to zero in on them in the fight. It was an incredible feeling, being in a fight. Despite the massive amount of noise in the arena that night, when I was fighting, my mind instantly zoned into my own corner. I could only hear them when they were shouting. It was never possible to mix signals from another corner.

  An example of this would be penguins. When they are out in a flock together, they all look the same, but by instinct, a mother is still able to find her baby, just by the sound of the baby's call. It works the same for me in a fight―I am trained only to hear my corner yelling, and that is what I focus on.

  I nodded my head as they told me what they expected from me this round. I stood up, and as the bell went off, we went at each other with kicks flying and punches slamming. I caught him with a spinning back kick that left him unsteady, and followed that with a straight right. He fell to the ground, but quickly got up before I could pin him.

  I slipped to the side, and the guy punched into the space where my head should have been. It was the perfect opportunity for me to come in with an uppercut to the face that connected so hard that The Destroyer staggered backwards. It took him a moment to recover his footing. While he was doing that, he swung out his arm. I ducked, and came back with a punch to the ribs, gut, and face, landing them all perfectly.

  The Destroyer threw another jab, aiming for my face, but I blocked the punch, and returned with a right of my own. I slammed my fist right into his face and brought him to his knees.

  I could feel that I was bleeding, though I wasn't entirely sure where. I knew that I was doing well, maybe even winning at that point. I allowed The Destroyer to get a couple of body shots in as I set him up. What I didn't expect, however, was for The Destroyer to stand up and hit me in the face. My head swung back, even though my body stayed firmly planted on the cage floor. I came back swinging harder. I got close and grabbed around his head in a clinch, getting one knee into him before he shoved me off him. I moved forward quickly, blood pouring down my face as I hit The Destroyer with a pow, pow, pow of punches.

  The Destroyer started to back off as my hits pushed him up against the cage. I was hitting him hard, but he just wouldn
't go down. The bell rang, ending the second round.

  I returned to my corner, feeling good about the round I just put in. My coach was icing my shoulders as I took a swig of water, spitting it into a bucket.

  “I want you to finish him this round, Jet. Don't let it go to a decision. End it.”

  I nodded, and stood up as the bell for the third round went off. I moved in toward The Destroyer slowly. We exchanged a couple of jabs that didn’t really make their mark. As I came in, he landed a front kick to my stomach that took the wind out of me. I needed to end this quickly; he was a powerful fighter, and I didn’t want to risk having him get the drop on me and have the fight go to a decision.

  I made a quick assessment of how close I was to The Destroyer, and I moved in quickly. I feinted a low kick, and quickly swung my body around in one smooth motion, catching him completely off guard with a spinning back fist. As my gloves made contact with his face, I heard a crack, and I was fairly confident that I broke his cheekbone.

  He dropped immediately, and the ref called for the bell and the fight was over.

  The medical team came in to check to see if The Destroyer was conscious, which he was―just a little disoriented, and in some pain. He lucked out by only having a fracture in his cheekbone, not a broken bone. He was still yelling out in agony, though.

  I grinned as I looked around the room at the audience, made eye contact with my mother, and winked at her. I imagined her heart had raced the entire time, and it could finally rest easy.

  When the medical team was finished with The Destroyer, he surprisingly met me in the middle of the cage where the winner was to be announced.

  “By way of K.O., the winner of tonight's event is Jet!”

  My hands flung in the air as I took my victory lap. I was then given a medal for my match, and I left the octagon to meet with my team.

  “Why didn't you take him to the ground, man?” my coach asked me.

  “He was strong, really strong. I didn't want to go down unless I had to. You know, for me, going to the ground is a last resort. I like fighting. I like feeling a solid knockdown.”

  “That was a pretty sick back fist, I have to admit.”

  “I had everything under control, man, no worries.”

  “Yeah you did. It was a solid win, but it’s time to get your mind set for the next one.”

  My mindset was already ready for the next one.

  I received my congratulations, and went out to meet with my family. We were all planning to celebrate tonight with some decent food and a couple of drinks.

  Chapter Nine

  Natalie

  I slowly opened my eyes to a sound. I couldn't place where the noise was coming from, or what it was. God, I was tired. No, not tired, utterly exhausted. I rubbed my eyes and settled back on my pillow, trying to focus on the sound. I couldn't figure out what it could be. It was a great indication that I may need to get regular sleep. I had a long day, and retired to bed early, probably too early. I looked around, trying to place where the sound was coming from again. My thoughts were still fuzzy, and it felt like it had to be the middle of the night.

  I had just gotten to sleep, hadn't I?

  The clock beside my bed read 11:00 p.m., and I wondered what in the hell was going on. I had only been sleeping for a few hours, and I did not want to be awake again.

  I jumped when Julie started banging on the wall from the adjacent room. She scared me half to death. I tried to sit up in bed as my heart was beating in my chest furiously.

  “Come on, Natalie, I have a 7:00 a.m. class tomorrow, for crying out loud! Either answer the damn phone, or turn it off. I need to get some sleep here.”

  My phone. Ah, it was my phone, of course. Now the sound registered in my brain. I slowly wiped at my eyes. Wow, did I ever feel tired. How did I not recognize my own phone ringing? I wondered who on earth would be calling at this hour. Not one of my friends would ever call me this late. I rolled over in bed and grabbed my phone, looking at the screen. When my eyes had finally cleared from sleep and exhaustion, I looked at the number, and I didn't recognize it. I figured what the hell, and clicked the talk button.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Natalie, it's Jet.”

  I groaned inwardly. “Jet? Why the hell are you calling me at this hour?”

  “Why, were you asleep?” I heard him chuckle on the other end.

  “Well, yes, I was.” What a moron.

  “You need to live a little. It's only 11:00 p.m., why are you already in bed?”

  “I live just fine, thank you. I have classes in the morning, and I’m exhausted. So what do you want, Jet?”

  “I want to see you.”

  “Seriously? Jet, it's kind of late for a get-together, don't you think?”

  “But I'm already here. You don't have to go anywhere.”

  “Excuse me?” He better not be here. He so better not be here.

  “I'm standing outside your apartment right now.”

  “What? Are you joking? Actually, you had better be joking.”

  “Nope, I'm out here, come down.”

  “Jet, I'm not going down there. It's late, I'm tired. Just go home.” I rubbed at my eyes, wishing I could just close them again instead of dealing with another selfish man.

  “I'm not going anywhere until you come down and say hi to me first.”

  I groaned inwardly; what the hell was with this punk? He had some nerve showing up at my apartment at this hour, wanting to visit. He was becoming increasingly annoying by the day. I turned on my bedside lamp and assessed the situation. My hair was a mess, and I was wearing a tank top and pajama pants with elephants on them. Perfect.

  “No shot, Jet. I will see you another day.”

  “Come on, Natalie. I just won my conference battle tonight. At least come out and congratulate me.”

  His battle? Julie was right; he really was on the MMA team.

  Defeated, I laid my head back down on the pillow. I was so not in the mood for Jet tonight. But he was tugging on my heartstrings with his win. I wanted to be nice. I supposed I could at least go down and congratulate him before getting back under the covers.

  “Fine, I'm coming. But only for a minute.” I hung up the phone and quickly got out of bed. I went to the bathroom to make sure I didn't look like a complete disaster. I was wearing no makeup, but it wasn't the end of the world. I quickly put a brush through my hair and got out the knots. I grabbed my apartment keys, so I didn't end up locking myself out of the building, and I shuffled out the door. I pitter-pattered down five flights of stairs before I got to the main level. When I left the building, Jet was standing there proudly, with a medal around his neck. He was quite a sight, I had to admit. He was pretty handsome besides sporting a split lip. His tight shirt, which showed off his incredible body, made me forget about that, though. His medal was shining in the light, as if he were some kind of superhero. I’m sure it was only there to impress me.

  I could smell booze on him, but he didn't appear to be intoxicated. He must have come back from celebrating.

  “Wow, is that what you wear to bed? Are those elephants?” He was staring at my pajamas in what could only be a look of shock. It took him a few moments before his eyes finally left my pants.

  I laughed. “Shut up. And congratulations on your fight.”

  “Why, thank you,” he said, practically beaming at me. He truly was quite proud of his accomplishments.

  The night was cool, and I instantly got a chill all over my body. I wrapped my arms around my body to keep myself warm. I had goosebumps all over my body, and I was looking forward to going back into the apartment. The weather was changing as fall progressed, and I wasn't up to being out in my pajamas, freezing my ass off.

  “Well you got me out here, Jet, now what do you want?” I smiled softly, unsure of what he was really doing there.

  “I want you, of course.”

  I raised my eyebrows at him. I couldn’t tell whether or not he was joking, and it made
me uncomfortable. He laughed when he said it, but the laugh seemed awfully forced.

  “Be serious.”

  “I am serious.” He was serious, and it made tiny little butterflies flutter around in my stomach.

  The last thing I needed or wanted at that point in my life was another guy. The last one had devastated me to the point that I had a hard time staying out of the bars. I was just now, after a long time, starting to get a grasp on life again. I didn't need someone else coming in, breaking my heart, and making me spiral out of control again. I could see Jet doing exactly that to me. He didn't care who he hurt, especially a female. I would be just another girl he played with and then tossed aside. That would hurt, maybe worse than the last one; how would I be able to bear that?

  I decided to not say a word, it wasn't worth getting into a debate over at 11:00 p.m. All I wanted was to return to my warm bed, and the slumber that kept me snuggled in tight. However, the silence seemed to stretch on indefinitely, until I felt desperate to break it. He just stood there with a small smile on his face. I didn't know what to say or what to do.

  So I asked, “You're really serious?” I already knew by the look on his face that he was.

  He inched closer to me. “You know I'm serious.” Standing there in my pajamas, I didn’t even know what to say back. I couldn’t believe he was hitting on me without a touch of makeup on my face. He must really be hard up if he was coming to see me in the middle of the night.

  He continued to move toward me, until he was only inches away. We were practically breathing the same breath. I thought my heart may have stopped. Nervous tingles rode up and down my body. I had never felt that way before, and I couldn't explain what Jet's closeness did to me.

  Trying to break the tension between us, I tried to joke with him. “Why don't you go bother some other girls? I bet there are tons that would be more than happy for a late night visit from you. Get your needs met, you know.”

  “And you're not one of them?”

  “No, I'm not.” I almost enjoyed saying those words to him. Words he probably had never heard from another girl.