The Undercover Streetfighter✔ {Under Editing}

Chapter 1

To say I was fed up was an understatement.

Oh, how I wish I could show them a piece of my mind and punch them in their face. I narrowed my eyes at the group of jocks who were laughing their heads off about a joke made about me.

I heard enough of these guys' laughters. I waited for five more minutes but when their laughing didn't stop, I grew mad at their immature behavior-- especially when the joke wasn't even funny. It was getting too annoying and I knew I had to get home soon anyway.

"Look, I haven't got any time for this. Move maybe?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Their laughter died out and suddenly all of them narrowed their eyes. What did I do? You guys literally spent over seven minutes laughing about some stupid joke.

"What if we don't?" one of them challenged.

"Do you want me to tell you or show you?" I asked to which he just shrugged whilst smirking.

"Guess I'll have to show you, yeah?" I suggested. I was infamous in the whole school due to my anti-social habits, but whoever paid attention to me knew that I always did what I wanted to.

He was still smirking when I swung out my fist and punched him square in the face. I made sure only to use enough force to make sure it wouldn't bleed.

"You freak!" he yelled, clutching his nose as it throbbed.

"You're not talking to a mirror," I said shaking my head. I looked over at his friends and they all had their jaws dropped open.

Surprised that a girl can fight? You haven't even seen me yet, suckers.

"Now can you move?" I asked, making sure to give them a sickeningly sweet smile with with a hidden warning.

They all turned red, embarrassed at being owned up by a girl. All of them gave each other an uneasy look before stepping aside and allowing me to go in the process.

"Smart decision, boys!" I called out to them and ran over to my motorcycle. It was a Harley and I loved it to death. It was my prized possession. My baby. 

I sat on it and rode over to my house, eager to see mom. Unlocking the door, I placed the keys on the shoe rack.

I made my first stop in mom's room and sat beside her sleeping figure. She was a heart patient. Her heart disease was recently discovered and the doctor had said that it was to be a hard case but that he was going to try his best.

She was laying down on her bed-- pale and tired-- machines, IV's and wires attached to her weak body. I remember those times when she was the most excited and energetic person in the house, waking everyone up at 7 A.M. sharp, so that we could have a day full of fun-filled activities. It's depressing to know that the joy of our lives was in such a critical condition. And I know none of us could get those big, fat smiles on our faces even if we tried. It was her speciality; making a smile form on our faces in one of our worst moods.

I miss seeing her smile and her beautiful laugh. We all never knew it played such a big roles in our life until now. 

I took her hand gently and rubbed circles on it softly. After ten minutes of absolute silence, I kissed her forehead and walked over to Dylan's room.

Dylan was my ten year old, annoying, and adorable brother. His door was already halfway open when I walked in. I decided not to make any sound as I entered to have a little fun around him.

He was working with a pencil in his hand and tapping his head with it rhythmically. I went over to him and stood behind him, yet he had still to see me.