Dealing With Trouble

I assumed that when I changed schools, my life would become more peaceful. I moved away from where my father was to avoid him abusing me and to find ways to get out of his clutches and also save my mother from him. But it got worse when I transferred to L.A.V collage and encountered a group of bullies; I had no idea it was worse than my previous school. And because I am lucky, they chose me to bully out of a thousand students here. While I was eating at the cafeteria earlier, I noticed a woman with long hair and thick make-up wiping my white tops with her dirty hands while her friends laughed at me and pretended their friend had done nothing wrong. And the only thing I can do is to ignore them because after she wiped her dirty hands on me they left as well. 4 pm when my last subject ends. I am walking peacefully down the street to go to the bus station when my friend Dane abruptly stops beside me in his car. I don't know why he's here. "Megan, stay right there!" Dane screams. "You know your Mother, I'm the only one who pays if something bad happens to you!" "I'm fine!" I keep walking without looking at him. "Come in, you look pale, and your shirt looks nasty." he said, concerned. "Please leave me alone; I'm fine. I'm always like this, okay?" I said in a grating tone. "All right, but get home early," he said as he drove away. I could even see the grinding of his head in my peripheral vision. I know he's worried. When I confirmed Dane was gone, I took a deep breath and took my phone from my jeans pocket to check the time, which is why I didn't notice the upcoming group of students riding cabriolets. They were scarce, and I knew there were many of them earlier, but there are now only four. When their male driver, who was still chewing bubble gum, blew his horn loudly, I almost jumped from where I was standing. "Hello, filthy girl." The woman who had earlier wiped her dirty hands on me said. "Look at what you've done, Amanda. She's looking like a stupid right now." The girl with tan skin and curly hair said mocking me. "She should be grateful; her plain white top was getting boring, so I decided to add some design to it." I had no extra shirt so until last subject I keep wearing this. "Would you please leave me alone?" I said quietly, putting my phone back into my left pants pocket and walking on, but I had the impression they were following me. "Hey!" someone said behind my back, grabbing the back popping part of my white shirt. I immediately come to a halt and face them. "What is your problem?" I asked. My voice begins to rise slightly as a result of what they do. I wish I could just ignore them, but they keep coming. "It was you; you're the problem." Amanda, crossed her arms. “W-what? Wait, what do you mean?" I had no idea at the time... However, I should not overthink things. I'm sure there are a lot of people who have the same attitude. "Do you even know who I am?" She raised her left brow and locked her gaze on me. “No, please stop following me." I say. "Then you better know!" she exclaimed before pushing me with her left hand. My butt immediately landed on the paved road, which hurt. She pushed me so hard that I couldn't stand my leg any more. I try but I can't. “Ohhh! Amanda is on fire, so keep your mouth shut." While laughing, the girl with curly hair said. "Now get up; if you can stand where you are now, I won't bother you again. IF YOU CAN." “Tayer, can I get your bubble gum?” “Yes, baby.” My heartbeat is beating so fast… what worse she can do?! Is this not yet enough? "She can't," I quickly c****d my head in the direction of the voice. I assumed he was one of them, but I am certain he is not. He appears to be older than us. The man was wearing a Marciano hoodie and pants. His physique is well-defined. Because of his body, I can tell he's a sporty guy or something else. And... I'd say he's attractive. I was so focused on him that I didn't notice he was already lifting me up. "Can you walk?" "I-I'm not sure-" He quickly lifted me up despite the fact that I couldn't answer his question. He quickly came to a halt in front of the upcoming taxi and lent me inside. "I'll take care of this." He said, before the door closed and the taxi started to shove away from there. *** I was absent for almost a week because of what happened to my hip. And now that I’m fine Dane is preaching to me because I haven't agreed to ride with him that day. “I already told you to hop in last week, but you keep refusing me.” Oliver, his twin, yells, "Forget about it! Since it's Saturday we should let Megan visit the Gymcon so she can watch a real fight!” “W-what? Not the sweaty and stinky place.” I refused. “No refusing! Let's go.” Jamie pulled me out of the house and lent me a Dane car. Thinking of myself entering a boxing ring now makes me sick. It's not just that it's hot and stuffy, or that the air smells like sweat or kind of sour. It's just that someone like me, who thrives on structure and order, struggles with chaos everytime it happens. “Are you sure? Letting Megan here at the gymcon is risky and if her mom finds out that she's here we are dead.” Dane said. Oliver, his twin, yells, "Forget about her mom! Layla would kill us too, triple!” He grabs my hand from behind him and pulls me through a throng of sweaty bodies. From the black heavy bags suspended by chains to the loud, rowdy patrons, everything about this screams chaos. The boxing ring, its once-black canvas stained with blood and sweat, sits in the corner. I'll find out why in less than ten minutes. This is the furthest thing from my mind. I'm not the type of girl who agrees to go to a boxing match, especially on the day before starting a new school, but that's always been my issue. Yes, I'll move to L.A; yes, Aunt Layla, your stepsons are free to fcking kidnap me; and yes, I'll pretend to enjoy it. I say yes when I want to say no because that's my only CHOICE. We fight our way to the ticket booth, which is led by Rayan, a stocky guy. Rayan is shirtless and has a thick serpent tattoo across his broad chest for reasons unknown. He grabs our tickets and raises an eyebrow at my attire. I can only guess how I appear right now. My bun is on the verge of unraveling, and sweat prickles my neck, soaking into the cotton of my favorite pink hoodie—we have that in common. I run my palms down the side of my head as quietly as possible, smoothing down any potential flyaways. My hair, like my skin, is a 50/50 mix of my half-Black mother and white father, so it's neither straight nor curly, thin or thick, but somewhere in between. Rayan raises his eyes to give us the green light. We try to push our way to the front by squeezing past more people. Olly had said that we should be close enough to see everything going on, but far enough away to avoid being sprayed with blood. The second reason is that this is a hellish environment. When Layla asked her stepsons to show me around, I'm pretty sure she meant a trip to the mall or a walk along the beach. Maybe I'm wrong, but a boxing match in Burbank isn't exactly what she was referring to—not that I'd know. Until last week, when Layla picked us up from LAX, I'd only ever seen her on FaceTime. Her three-year-husband, Taky, is a wacky, divorced proofreading editor with two children that are supposed to be three but the eldest died and I knew she'd moved to L.A to work as an editor. Aside from that, Layla's life in the Granada Hills remains a mystery. What happened to us is also a mystery. Following Mom's divorce from Dad, this move provided a much-needed break for everyone. It's a half-truth, which my mother believes is preferable to lying, but I'm not always convinced. "You made it!" something grabs hold of me and pulls me into a hug. Jane, with her five-foot-two-inch glossy brown curls and sun-bronzed skin, is my new best friend. I say new best friend because she's stuck to me like a barnacle since Olly introduced us at Layla's Welcome barbecue last week. Kylan sits beside her. Who entangles me in yet another hug. It's the one thing about L.A that I can't get used to. Whatever you may think of New Yorkers, we do have some ground rules: keep to yourself, don't stare at strangers, and don't take up too much space. I've already had to dodge two elbows and several unwelcome hugs in less than five minutes. But I make an effort to give Jane a proper hug in return. Making friends is an important part of ensuring that the next few months go as smoothly as possible. I never needed them at home because I always had my boyfriend, Jamie, but he's no longer here to act as a buffer. "For the record," Kylan says as he backs away, "I wanted to take you surfing today, but I was obviously outvoted." Her pin-straight black hair flutters back and forth as she shakes her head. Kylan is Sri Lankan, which means she has thick, lustrous hair that I lust after. "It's all right," I say. As the crowd rocks us, she squeezes my hand. In the midst of all of this chaos, something about her calmness comforts me. She's the definition of a laid-back L.A, the kind of girl I'll never be. "I've got a quick question," I say. "Are you sure this is legal?" "Quick question," Olly asks, his dark eyes flitting to mine, "are you always this stressed out?" The word pierces my skin, settling in the back of my mind alongside the others. Irrational, insane, and paranoid. They coalesce into a single entity, shifting and pulsing as one. Jane's eyes narrowed.“Don't worry, it's legal. They're doing an open-night thing to promote some boot camp they're pushing. Our tickets were free," I turn to the ring, relieved. Kylan notices her boyfriend through a gap in the crowd. Zion, and starts toward him. Jane goes to grab my hand, but I tell them I'll wait back here with the twins, and they push through the crowd without me. Six weeks ago, when Mom and I made the decision to move, a part of me had been hopeful. L.A was my do-over. I'd reinvent myself as the cool girl, the laid-back West Coast girl who drinks vegetable smoothies and surfs on the weekend, but so far, my life has been nothing of the sort-it's hard not to feel disappointed. I became healthy as a person but lacked physical strength.