My Badass Luna

Whispers of Fate

As we slipped into the car, my hands trembled, betraying my nerves. "Do you think she was talking about Mathew?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. The echo of Madame Zara's ominous words still haunted me.

Ella, sensing my unease, placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Alison, you're overthinking this. Madame Zara thrives on fear," she said, her tone gentle yet firm.

I clenched my fists, the weight of her prophecy pressing down on me. "But she was right about my financial problems. And I did decide to enter the competition because of it," I insisted, my eyes searching Ella's for reassurance.

Ethan started the car, his eyes focused on the road ahead. "Alison, financial struggles are common. Madame Zara preys on that, scaring people to exploit them. Don't let her get into your head," he said, his voice steady and reassuring.

"Besides, you should be focusing on your fights in the club," Ella said, steering the conversation away from Madame Zara's ominous predictions. "Have you checked your schedule and arranged it so you can train with Robert?"

I sighed in relief at the change of topic. "No, I haven't had the time. I was too exhausted to reschedule after getting home, and this morning I rushed to school before coming here with you."

Ella nodded understandingly. "Then show it to me. I'll help you sort it out."

I handed her my phone, and together we began rearranging my schedule. The hum of the car engine filled the silence as we worked, the road stretching endlessly before us.

The journey to the club was long, interrupted only by brief washroom breaks. "Eat your takeout first while I'm driving," Ethan suggested, his eyes never leaving the road.

We complied, unwrapping our meals and eating in the dim glow of the dashboard lights. Once Ella finished her dinner, she swapped seats with Ethan so he could eat as well.

After finishing his dinner, Ethan wiped his hands and pulled out his phone. "I think it's time to call the auction dealer," he said, dialing the number. He put the phone on speaker, and the car filled with the sound of ringing.

"Hello, this is Mr. Robinson here, how can I help you?" the auction dealer said from the other side of the phone.

"Good afternoon. I'm Ethan and this is my friend Alison. I got your dealer number from a friend of mine, Bret Hilton. He mentioned you could help us with an auction."

" Good afternoon, Ethan, and Alison. Yes, Bret is a good friend of mine. What can I do for you today?"

"Alison here has some antiques she'd like to sell in an auction. We're hoping to avoid a charity auction and go for something more profitable."

"Certainly, I understand. What antiques are we talking about?"

"I have three items. The first is a Victorian-era necklace, the second is an old porcelain doll, and the last is a deco vase."

"Interesting. Those sound like they could be valuable. I'll need to have an appraiser come with me to check the items and determine if they're suitable for auction."

"That sounds good. When can we set this up?"

"How about we meet at your house tomorrow? We can go over the items in detail and get a proper appraisal done."

"That works for us. What time should we expect you?"

"Let's say around 2 PM? I'll bring the appraiser along, and we can take it from there."

"Perfect. We'll see you tomorrow at 2 PM then. I will message you my address."

"Great. Looking forward to it. Have a good day, both of you."

"Thanks, you too. See you tomorrow."

Ella gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter, her knuckles whitening slightly. "What will happen if the antique fails the appraiser's test?" she asked, her voice edged with the tension I had been feeling for days.

Ethan leaned back in his seat, his head tilting slightly as he massaged his temple. The weariness in his eyes made my heart ache. "Then we'll have no choice but to blame our fortune," he murmured, his voice soft and resigned. He caught my eye and offered a faint smile, as if trying to lift the gloom settling over us. "But I don't think it will come to that. If it were a fake, Bread would have warned us."

Ella nodded, her expression relaxing slightly. "True."

Trying to shift the conversation to lighter ground, I asked, "How many people can I bring with me to the auction?"

Ethan glanced at me, considering. "Maybe two or three, depending on the seats available."

Ella's smile was small but genuine. "Ethan and my parents went to the last auction a few days ago. I was sick, so I couldn't go."

We chatted for a while longer, the conversation meandering through safer topics until we neared the street fighting club. Through the windshield, I saw the ex-referee Robin parking his bike in the lot, the sound of the engine cutting off punctuating the end of our discussion.

As we pulled into the parking lot, he spotted us and waved, a grin spreading across his face. "You guys are early today," he remarked, still smiling as we stepped out of the car.

"We had some important errands to run, so we thought we'd come straight here instead of going home first," I explained, brushing some dust off my clothes.

Robin nodded thoughtfully. "Have you adjusted your schedule for training?"

"Yeah," I replied. "I was thinking of coming in two hours early before my fight starts. That way, I can train for an hour and a half, take a short break, and then head into the arena. What do you think?"

"Sounds good to me," Robin agreed. With that, we headed into the fighting club together.

As we walked through the entrance, I turned to Robin, curious. "But where are we going to train?"

He led the way with confident strides. "There's a training area inside the club too. I'll show you."

Robin guided me through the bustling club, weaving past fighters who were watching the fight in the arena and the audience in the club.

The training area in the fighting club was a spacious, well-lit room with padded mats covering the floor. It featured several punching bags, a row of weights, and a mirrored wall for observing techniques.

"The changing room is over there," Robin said, pointing. I nodded and headed in that direction.