It should be here somewhere; my hands grab the bottom of my bag as I empty everything out. I scream loudly and feel tears leave my eyes; it was here.

It should be here. I put it in my back pocket! Why can I not find them anywhere? I push the couch and look underneath, nothing. Jane bought me that phone, she bought it for me with her own money. She is going to kill me; I know she is.

I grab the carpets and throw it over but nothing. My fingers rush through my hair, I hold onto my bag and tuck all my books back inside, knowing I have a class in a few minutes. I release my curls and walk over to my door; I slip my shoes on and grab my coat of the hanger.

The minute I open my door, I gasp frightened as I see his tall body overshadowing my own. One arm was holding onto the top of my door, the other tucked into his pocket.

His muscles refract with every shuffle he makes. Half his top raised slightly, revealing the tattoos. His shirt was short sleeved, revealing every drawing that were wrapped around his arms then there was me. Only reaching his chest.

"Alexander, if you're going to complain about the noise-" He slips out a familiar phone and hands it over to me, my eyes widen in shock as I take it from him gently. "Where did you find it?"

"The brigades were trying to stop you the other night to give it to you," that explains why they were huddling around me like a bundle of penguins.

"Thank you so much Alexander, really I was going crazy for a minute." I chuckle, scratching the back of my head.

He nods his head and pushes himself away from the door, he bends down to pick his gym bag on the ground before walking down the hallways. I close my door, giving him a few minutes before I leave, just in case there would be a repeat of what happened yesterday.

After a few minutes, I travel down to my car. I pull the driver's door open and bend over to shove my bag onto the passenger seat.

I park in my usual spot and slam my doors close; I walk inside the reception before down the busy hallways.

The hallways are dark marble floors and white walls, not a handprint or scuff mark anywhere. The doors are a glossy black, numbered with silver digits that match the globe shaped handles. It isn't just the materials though, it's the dimensions, the width being at least twice that of Brampton High.

I reach my locker, before hearing a few gossips. "Have you seen Leo's step-brother?"

"Who hasn't? Some of the girls fake going to the gym just to see him."

"I heard someone's written-"

I push my key inside the locker door, and it opens.

I shove some of my recent books inside and watch the hallway clear. Suddenly, my locker slams shut, and my finger gets caught inside. I let out a scream of pain as I look up to the body that has closed it but they disappeared before I could catch a look.

I grab my bag from the ground along with my coat as I leave the hallway, feeling tears wanting to leave my eyes as I travel down to my maths classroom. I push open the door and watch everyone's eyes on me.

"Nova, settle down, we are doing a maths test." I nod my head and take my seat at the front. He slides me over a paper, and I settle my things down as I take my bag out. I begin completing some of the questions. Then one question comes into mind;

The equation

24x2+25x−47 ax−2=−8x−3−53ax−2

is true for all values of x≠

What is the value of a?

I remember everything he said, I smile and begin completing the question. "The faster way is to multiply each side of the given equation by ax−2 (so you can get rid of the fraction). When you multiply each side by ax−2, you should have: 24x2+25x−47=(−8x−3) (ax−2) −53. You should then multiply (−8x−3) and (ax−2) using FOIL. 24x2+25x−47=−8ax2−3ax+16x+6−53. Then, reduce on the right side of the equation: 24x2+25x−47=−8ax2−3ax+16x−47. Since the coefficients of the x2-term have to be equal on both sides of the equation, −8a=24, or a=−3."

It has been two hours; I was the first to hand in my paper. Mr Harold took the decency and began marking it early, I sat in anticipation, watching his facial features change with every tick or cross he might have put. The he stands up, gazing at me. He walks over towards me, sliding the paper. I look down and my eyes budge out of my head. A*.

"Well done, Nova, my first A* student. How did you know how to the last question?" He asked folding his arms.

"My neighbour helped me." I whisper.

I look up at the gym name, Links Gym. I shrug my shoulders and push the door open, the moment I step inside, the atmosphere was full of laughter, talks and people working out. I barely saw any women.

I walked up to the front desk where a man sat on the desk, he turned around once one of his co-workers pointed in my direction with the back of his pen. "Sorry darling, Alex isn't here." The old man said, a toothpick between his teeth as he wore a baseball cap to cover the missing hairs on his head.

"Alex what? I'm here to sign up," I reminded him, they both shot their head back in surprise.

"Doesn't matter princess, here's the sign-up sheets." He handed it to me; I thanked him and signed my name along with all me details. "So, are you new to town?"

"You guessed correct."

"Moved in for university?"

"Yep."

"You look familiar, any parents I know of?"

"Nope, they're both dead."

Once I finish up I hand it back to him as he passes me a key card for a locker. He points in the direction to where it is, I thank him and walk ahead of him. Holding the heavy gym bag in my grasp, I slipped inside the locker room, unisex.

Of course. I look around the grey lockers, 9. Once my eyes catch sight on it, I insert my keys inside only for it not to fit inside. I take a deep breath and push my key inside, I try to turn it, it doesn't work out. I bang my fist against the locker angrily, "why doesn't this darn thing work!" I shouted in a whisper.

"Because that's my locker." A deep voice frightened me; I immediately snapped my head to the direction of the door, but nothing was there. I then turn behind me and see Alexander standing inches away from me, I swallow down my nervousness and stare into his bright blue eyes, which turn dark at night.

"It's my locker, see number nine." I pointed obviously, he sighs as his arms over stretch over my shoulder, I turn my head and see him turn the metal print around until it fitted perfectly to a six. Embarrassment flushed my cheeks; I kiss my teeth and suck in my bottom lip. Not only did this happen once, but now twice.

"Right, sorry." I whisper, ducking underneath his arm as I see the locker right beside his. I insert my key inside, fitting perfectly as it turns around. I shove my bag inside and slip of my coat revealing my gym outfit.

Grey fitted shorts and a crop top; I tie my hair up in a high ponytail before shutting my locker. I see that my neighbour has already left, I make sure to fetch my hand wraps as I make my way out of the changing rooms. Passing by sweaty guys, I push past them and look around to see the punching bag.

Aside from the fact that it was a photo wall, I stood in front of it, wrapping my hands. The picture frames were gold and featured various types of images from the early 1900s to the present. This gym has been here since the 1960s, and I keep looking through the photos until I see Alexander in one with the old man from earlier.

When I looked up the date, it was 2012, and he had four heavyweight champion belts across his shoulders, as well as fewer tattoos than he does now. The man is a living painting. In the photo, I notice the same scars on his hands. I return my gaze to the words and see- heavyweight underground fighter.

I turn to the punching bag; I begin slowly throwing punches to build up my power and keep my muscles contracting.

I make sure the knuckles of my index and middle fingers are hitting the bag first. So, it wouldn't break my fingers or my hands, I hold onto my balance and when I hit the bag with my fists, I keep my elbows tight when I punch, but don't tense them.

I continue throwing my punches, speeding it up as I release all the negative energy inside of me onto the bag, punching and training was a relief for me.

In foster care, Jane allowed me to go to self-defence classes, leading for me to become a little extreme. I taught myself every single move in the book, I kept myself fit and healthy.

"Your pace is shit; your form is fucked, along with your balance. Your punches are alright." I turn to see my neighbour leaning against the wall, watching my stance. His arms were folded, tensed over his chest.

"I don't seem to remember asking?"

"Balance and posture are important when working a punching bag. Speed and force will come once you've achieved a punching rhythm with balance and good posture. Throw punches at the bag, but don't throw yourself or fall into the bag. When you punch, keep yourself balanced by keeping both your feet planted on the floor. Look at what you're doing," he pushes himself of the wall and stands behind me, kicking my feet apart, I was about to trip before I feel his hands rest on my stomach to stop me from doing so.

"Your feet are to close, leave a bit of space, and make sure to lean on your dominant foot." I never noticed how tall he was until he stood right besides me, my head reached right underneath his chest.

"You fought in the ring before?"

"Many times."

"Why did you stop?" I asked, not facing him. He comes near my ears, pushing a strand of my hair behind my ears before his fingers graze down my neck towards my shoulders, stopping right at my strap. My heart skipped many beats, more than one as he touched me. I wanted to push his hands away but god it felt right.

"Because I made it into a blood bath."