𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 | 𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Chapter 30 - I'll Prove You Wrong

I did it loves!! I finally finished this damn chapter. Thanks for all your patience and support. Enjoy!

The cold wind blew through the bare branches of the tree, dew sat delicately upon the tops of the dry grass blades, and smoke emitted from the end of my cigarette like a billowing cloud that had practically veiled over my face entirely. The sky was dark now, filled with glittering white stars and spotted with gray, streaky, thin clouds.

I watched as the two different social classes of boys nearly melted and molded together in a rowdy pile, beating on each other harshly, giving me that same rush of adrenaline that I had known and loved for so long. That same rush of adrenaline that had warmed me up as I practically buried my body underneath my leather bomber jacket, smiling as I curled up even more at the foot of the tree.

It was exhilarating, giving me goosebumps as I watched the gang throw punches and kicks at the socs, all while having the same done to them. "I wanna fight." I thought, taking my cigarette from my mouth and blowing out a long line of smoke, overcasting my face thoroughly once again.

"Damn Dallas." I scanned over the crowd, finding that brown haired boy quickly and glaring at him with slight hatred, yet a hint of attraction at the same sight of him fighting. "I'd like to see that." His words echoed through my mind, like a pest that had bothered me so harshly and crawled into my head nearly all the time.

I only mocked him in my head, letting my eyes roll at the ever growing thoughts of his shitty but attractive attitude. "Asshole." I muttered quietly to myself as I shook my head with a smile, letting my legs fall to the ground flat and lay against the cool ground.

I sighed deeply, letting thoughts run rampant through my mind as I stared to the rowdy crowd, questioning whether or not I should let the intrusive and slightly sadistic thoughts win me over me. The notion of punching some rich, spoiled, ignorant kid delighted me so dearly, like if I finally gave in I'd be grinning from cheek to cheek. For no apparent reason, I also felt the need to impress Dallas somehow, or at least grab his attention, mostly so I could prove him long, but maybe there had been other factors as well.

So after a few moments, because of that feeling, I ultimately stood, letting my head make its final decision with a slight nod before strutting slowly to the fight. I was going to join in, and I didn't give a slight care to what Dallas thought.

I put my cigarette back to my mouth as I inched closer, letting my teeth clutch it tightly as to not let it drop, allowing small puffs of smoke to enter my mouth and begin to occupy it. The glowing orange end of the blunt helped me navigate through the almost pitch black lot until I made it only a few inches away from the roughed up group.

I smiled confidently and sighed with satisfaction, looking closely at the pile of boys as I stood mere inches from the perimeter of the group. I took in one last breath of reliving smoke from my cigarette before finally picking out and grabbing a brown haired boy by the collar of his red varsity jacket.

He turned around to face me, only to look down at me with confusion before letting his mouth part wide, revealing a smile, almost as if he were holding back a hysterical laugh from the sight of me. He was tall and casted a small shadow upon me. His hair was combed back nicely, not a single strand of it falling out.

After viewing him for a few more seconds, it didn't take me very long to tighten my grip on his collar before throwing my clutched fist to the bridge of his nose, striking him firmly with an angry passion. His head whipped around like that of an owls before he fell to the ground, blood dripping from his chin to the dry grass below.

"You bitch." He got up quickly, now with a look of seething rage as he stood with his hand holding tightly to his bleeding nose. "Like I haven't heard that before." I thought as I rolled my eyes, standing more haughty and strong than before.

He straightened his back like that of a plank, wiping the blood away from his top lip as he got in a quick position to fight. I smirked as I did the same, clenching my fists harder and planting my feet strong against the ground, grinding the patch of dirt beneath my boots.

He took a swing, swiftly punching me in the cheek. I held my hand to my face as he laughed, pulling it away seconds later to reveal blood spotted lightly on my fingers. My pained cheek only made the adrenaline in my body rush even more than before, like a wave, powering me even further and making me far more undaunted.

I only smiled, clenching my fist tight again and punching him in the chin. He fell back, then came at me again. We both continued with this ongoing and repetitive fight, both of us hitting each other for a while until he finally fell to the ground. I felt happier and more satisfied than ever, grinning as I watched him crawl away with a bloody face.

It sounds cruel, yes, but it made me happy to take my anger out on some snobby boy in khakis who has nothing better to do with his life other than beat on people who have less money and status than him. Maybe I've gone a little too far, but it's like therapy for me, and it had been for the longest time.

Really, it reminded me of New York, and that's probably what I loved so significantly about it. The fact it brought me back to my simpler childhood and to Judd and Dallas, the two boys I loved the most, yet the same boys I hated so much.

Suddenly, as I wiped my hands with pride and looked around to see if Dallas saw me, I heard hollering from the other side of the lot, familiar hollering. I immediately turned my attention to a yelling Steve Randle who held his roughed up fists in the air with a grin. Socs began scurrying just about everywhere until they reached their vehicles, hopping in them quickly and drifting off into the silent, dark night. We won.