1 WEEK LATER. . .
It was 2:03 on a Friday afternoon. I had snuck out of math to go to the boxing match at the Prep's gym. Before I rode my bike there, I stopped at the boys dorm to grab a few things. When I opened my wardrobe, I saw a boxing outfit that Mandy bought for me as a half assed 'I'm sorry I cheated on you.' I gotta admit, it was really nice. It was green with gold stripes and it had a hood attached to it. The hood had a pointed end to it, like it was from Assassin's Creed or something. I put it on and it fit perfectly. Dramatically, I slowly pulled the hood over my head and it covered half my face. There was red boxing gloves hanging up on the wall. I took them and threw them over my shoulder. And there was a packaged blue mouthpiece and I put it in my pocket. As soon as I was done, I walked out and rode my bike to the boxing gym. As I approached, I saw Malcolm standing outside the gym. I parked my bike next to the pagoda beside the gym and walked up to him. He noticed me and I said, "Ya ready, rich boy?" He smirked and said coolly, "Yeah, let's go, peon." I rolled my eyes at the insult and opened the door. As soon as I opened the door, all the preps started hurling insults at me. Justin cried, "I bet you'll last a whole 10 seconds!" And Derby shouted, "Go home, pauper!" I blocked out all the insults and focused on the match. I got in the ring and pulled my hood off and put on my boxing gloves. Malcolm looked just as focused and put on his boxing gloves as well. Then the bell rung and I threw a hard uppercut at Malcolm but missed. He taunted, "You're going down, Greg!" He jabbed me in my right jaw, then with a left, and painfully left hooked me in the ribs. And he finished me off with an uppercut to the stomach. I went down for a second then immediatly sprung back up. I hit him with a right hook but missed with an overhead punch. Malcolm just dodged it and hit me with a right hook in the face. I tasted blood in my mouth and felt blood trickle down my lip. This all continued up until the 4th round and unfortunatly, I didn't land any hits on Malcolm. I smirked to myself and faked a right jab and I uppercutted him in the jaw very hard. I then continued a combination with a cross, overhead, and a left jab combo. I smirked once more and bolo punched him in the chin and he was down for 2 seconds. The bell rung, signalling the end of round 4. My face was bloody and cut up. My left eye was swollen shut and Malcolm only had a scratch on his right eyebrow! This isn't going as well as I had hoped, but I'm not giving up yet! And I didn't even go my hardest on Malcolm. The bell rung for round 5 and he fiercly came at me with an impressive 7 hit jab combination. I stumbled for about 3 seconds and fell foward on the ring floor. Part of me wanted to stay down, but I forced myself to get back up. When I stood up, Malcolm looked shocked. I went at him with every bit of fight I had left in me. I jabbed him in the jaw, uppercutted him in the stomach, hit him again in the jaw, and finished my combination with an overhead punch. He was down for about 3 seconds and his mouth was bleeding a lot. He spat blood onto the mat and got back up. The rounds seemed like forever. 7th round, 8th round, 9th round, 10th round, and in the 11th round, we were both drenched in blood and could barely remember who we were and what we were doing. Malcolm looked dizzy as hell and he tried hitting me and I finished him off with a right hook to the jaw. He was down for the count. The ref counted 10 and declared it a knockout. I gingerly raised my fist up and collapsed on the floor. About an hour later, we both came to our senses and I saw Malcolm sitting by the weight lifting area and was getting treated for his wounds by the other preppies. I fell down again and got back up and asked, "Did... Did I win?" Nobody said a word. I don't know why but I kinda lost it and yelled, "HUH?! DID I WIN YOU PREP LOSERS?!" Malcolm said, "Yeah, you won by split decision." I smiled, "Ha! Guess that proves that..." Bif interupted me, "Don't get so high, pauper! You only won by that one second that you were able to stay standing up after Malcolm fell down! You're not a champion! You're not ANYTHING! Now GET OUT!" I shouted, "I don't think so! I won so I'm gonna get Malcolm's championship belt!" Malcolm's girlfriend, Lindsey, said angrily, "Screw you! You'll have to get through Bif to take it!" Bif said cockily, "Yeah, and you're in no condition to even last one round with me!" I stumbled slightly and put my fists up in a threatening manner and said, "I'll kick your ass right here, right now, rich boy!" Every single prep there laughed hysterically, except for Malcolm, who looked like he was in no condition to laugh along with his friends. Bif, Derby, Parker, and Tad all came over to me and shoved me on the ground, formed a circle around me, and started kicking me senseless. I cried out in pain and gasped for air when Derby's expensive Aquaberry loafers kicked me right in the ribcage.. They kept kicking me, and kicking me, and I thought it wasn't going to end. Malcolm stood up and said loudly so everyone could hear, "Enough, guys! He won. Let him just go." They all stopped hurting me and just stood around me as Malcolm quickly ran upstairs and came back down with his Championship Belt. I stood up and he handed it to me and he said, "Here. You won." I couldn't believe a rich kid like Malcolm would admit that he lost and hand over his championship belt over to a low class kid like me. I asked, "You'd just give it to me that easily? But I don't want it. You're still champion." Malcolm insisted, "No, really, because you earned it." It was tempting to take it, but then I remembered the reason why I really fought. I shook my head and said, "I only wanted to prove that I could handle myself against you jerks." Malcolm looked rather surprised and said, "Um, okay, if you're sure." I nodded and he nodded back and I went to the locker room and got changed out of my blood soaked boxing outfit, and got into my army wool cap, jean jacket, desert cargo pants, and black low tops. As I walked out of the boxing gym, I raised my left hand up in the air and stuck up the peace sign, as a symbol for telling the preps that I don't want to fight them anymore, and I just made peace. I walked out smiling and rode my bike home. . .