The Mystery Fighter

The Mystery Fighter (4)

I looked at the three-story building that would be my school for the next year as I steered the motorcycle into the parking lot in front of it.

Yesterday I had driven around the city at night in hopes of stumbling upon any type of underground betting or street fighting activities in the back alleys. The idea had been far-fetched, as I was not sure if this town was as driven by the laws of gangs and street life as Range Lake had been. It had been a total fluke and an unlikely blessing when I had noticed an underground bar on my way home from my city tour. It was hidden down an alley behind an abandoned grocery store.

From what I had seen through the dusty windows, the bar had a square platform in the middle of the first floor. I had prayed that the platform would be used for organized fighting, and not singing competitions. Later that night, I visited the place again. This time, the faint sound of cheering and hollering boomed through the alleyway.

Excitement had rolled over me in waves as money possibilities and ideas formed in my head. At least I had some mediocre plan for our future income. My hands had itched for something to punch again, something to fight for, and I had to restrain myself from entering the bar scene that night.

All morning, I had been looking forward to making an appearance in that bar, so much that I had almost forgotten that today was my first day at the new school.

Oh, school. Always managing to burden my newfound feelings of excitement.

I blinked at the place where happiness was crushed, and stress and misery took its place, as I momentarily brought my motorcycle to a halt, keeping it upright with the support of my leg. Students were scattered around me, all heading toward the double-doored entrance of the building.

As I parked in one of the few available parking spots, I noticed that my motorcycle was one of a handful here. I also took silent notice of the curious stares in my direction from the nearby students.

I pulled my helmet off just as the bell went off and placed it in my bag, making it take up all the space. When I looked back up again, the students had all made their way into the building, leaving me alone outside. I exhaled sharply and took my time up the front steps of the school. No point in trying to show up for the first class of the day, then.

Trees with yellowing leaves surrounded the concrete steps that led up to the school's entrance, making the place seem peaceful and almost exhilarating. That was until I opened the double doors and was met with rows of bleak and gray lockers lined up by the hundreds, and the occasional army green and windowless door, each one most probably leading to their established classrooms.

It took me a great deal of misreading the signs and directions before finally ending up in front of a green door that read RECEPTION, in bold red, capital letters. Even the door made me want to leave this place.

I threw the door open with a little more force than necessary, effectively startling the young receptionist behind the counter on the other side. Mumbling a brief sorry, I made my way over to the counter. The receptionist paused the video on her computer.

I cleared my throat. "I'm a new student. The name's Cassandra Haynes."

The woman calmed her expression to a relieved smile and gathered some documents on the counter. "Great to have you here, Cassandra." She handed me the documents with a strained smile plastered on her face. "Here is your schedule, stapled together with a map of the school and all of your classes here at Goldhaven High School. If you need anything just ask." I nodded my thanks and looked over my schedule. As I turned to leave, the video was resumed, and I could just catch a sharp laugh from the receptionist as she enjoyed her sitcom, before the door closed behind me.