Beanpole.
"Fucking kill her!"
I heard the shout coming from the kitchen. It sounded like a fight. Intrigued, I went to investigate.
I turned the corner to see my friend Bailey getting dismantled by some short, dark-haired little runt, with three or four of my fellow students cheering them on. When I say 'friend,' I mean I'd spoken to her a couple of times; she seemed nice enough. She didn't laugh when I told her I was studying contemporary dance and came from a little village in Wales. But this is the first week of University. We’re all Freshers, just getting to know the people we’ll spend the next three years of our life with. So, nobody's a friend yet.
Bailey looked fucked. She was a pretty girl with sandy hair and a nice figure. She didn’t look so pretty now. Torn clothes, two black eyes, cut lip and bloody nose. Stumpy, I didn't know her name, despite being smaller than Bailey, just had some bruises and a cut lip. They looked like they'd been at it, good style. But the dwarf definitely looked like she was winning. She had her hands on the back of Bailey's head as she slammed it into the kitchen table.
Once...
For a moment, Bailey's head trembled as she tried to stiffen her neck, to resist. But Stumpy was stronger.
...twice...
Bailey's eyes were glazed, glassy, as Stumpy drew her hand back for another blow. I grabbed her hand and stopped her.
"She's done!" I told her.
Stumpy glared at me.
“Let go my hand, bitch”
“No, she’s finished, you won. Leave her be!”.
"Fine"
She dropped Bailey's head, and she flopped unconscious to the floor.
"Bailey!" I cried out. Stumpy shot me an evil look, then stood up, hands in the air.
"And the fresher's week champion is Sharon Sparswith...me. Anyone else want to have a go?"
She turned to look at me.
"What about you, Beanpole?".
Shit. I had two thoughts.
One, that name. I hoped to leave that name behind. That's what they used to call me at school, just after my mega growth spurt. Unfortunately, my boobs didn't grow with the rest of my body, so I don’t exactly have a curvy figure. My real name is Melody, but everyone called me Beanpole. I was a skinny, awkward, lanky kid; I only ever ?felt real when I danced. I had hoped that by coming to university, I’d leave that name and the awkwardness behind. No, Its followed me here, like a smelly fart.
Two. Is she challenging me to a fight? Don't be stupid.
I looked at her blankly.
"You disrespected me, you fucking scrawny sack of shit...".
Oh God, she was. Frightened, I shook my head.
"No...I...", I stammered. She just continued.
"...Friday, 12 O'clock..."
"...down by the playing fields. We'll discuss it further. We'll dance then".
With that, she walked off.
Bailey was starting to come around. I helped her up.
"What was that all about?" I asked.
"It's fresher week". She said as though that was an answer.
"Yeah, I know. That's no reason to fight".
"Yes, it is". Bailey wiped her bloody nose.
"It's the custom. All us freshers get together and decide who's the toughest. It decides the pecking order for the year. These events are normally more organised down on the playing fields. This one was a lot more…spontaneous. Unfortunately for you, you interfered. Thanks for that. But as far as that cow’s concerned, you disrespected her. And she won’t let it go. She's challenged you. You'll have to fight. If you don't show up on Friday, she'll come after you.
"But I've never fought anyone, ever". I protested.
"She doesn’t care. If you refuse to fight, she'll beat you up anyway”.
She saw the look on my face. Her expression softened. I think that she realised that, unlike her, I had never asked for this.
“Look, I can give you some pointers. You're fit. You've got reach. Maybe I can save you from a wholesale slaughter".
"But...but...".
She stared straight at me.
"Look, you're going to have to fight. The question is, do you do it Friday or spend the rest of the next three years always looking behind your back? Are you going to meekly accept your beating or fight back?".
Fuck what have I gotten myself into?
Friday, twelve-hundred hours, noon, high noon.
As I walked with Bailey to the playing field, in the background, I swore I could hear "Do not forsake me oh my darling". I felt like Sheriff Will Kane about to confront Frank Miller the Outlaw. You know from that movie "High Noon". I'm not sayin' I used to spend too much time alone in my room watching old imovies like 'High Noon' or 'Casablanca' but...
I chose Friday and fight. Friday to get it over with and fight because I had no choice. I won't give up. I never give up. Even when my parents insisted I get a 'proper' job, 'there's always a call for hairdressers' l held on to my dreams of dancing. And what would Gary Cooper do? I won't win, I know that, but I'm gonna make her work for it. Bailey's coached me, shown me how to throw a punch, suggested a few moves. She said I was a fast learner, but it was just like dance training.
A crowd had gathered. Stumpy stood at one end of the circle the crowd had made, waiting for me. She was wearing a spaghetti-strapped black tank top and denim shorts. Like me, she was barefoot, no jewelry. As for me, I was in just a yellow T-shirt and yellow shorts, which went with my long blonde hair. I didn't wear a bra. Let's face it: I'm so flat-chested I don't need to. Her friends, lackeys, were all there, adjusting her hair, giving advice, encouragement. I just had Bailey.
Stumpy looked over at me.
“Oh, look, it’s the beanpole come for her lesson in respect”.
Bailey put her hand on my shoulder and shouted back.
“Slag. My friend is gonna fuck you over real good!”
I am?
"The fuck she is...". Stumpy turned to look at me, a puzzled look on her face..
“...What the fuck is it you do? Contemporary fucking dance?”. She grabbed some man from the crowd, twirling him around the cleared circle, imitating a waltz, at least I think it was a waltz, her technique was bloody awful.
“I hope you fight better than you dance”. I blurted out.
Actually, I hoped she fought worse than she danced. But I knew she didn’t.
“You’re fucking fancy dancing isn’t going to do you any good when I’m beating the shit out of you, barbie”. She sneered.
"Good luck", Bailey whispered as I walked into the circle. Our arena. Our field of battle. Fuck.
"Good luck", Mrs. Wiltshire, my dance teacher, whispered to me as I walked onto the stage to do my first public performance. I was fourteen and so scared. My heart was beating so fast I thought it would burst. What if I fuck up? This is in front of my classmates, my family. If I couldn't impress them, convince them I had talent then I promised I'd read those hairdressing school brochures they kept laying around. I tried to fight down the fear. Why did I agree to this? No going back now. This is it. I turned to face the audience.
I’m eighteen now, but my heart is beating so fast I think it will burst. This is it. I turn to face my opponent. I’m fucking fourteen again.A male student stood in the centre. I think he fancied himself as the Greatest Showman.
"Ladies and gentlemen. In today's fresher's championship fight, we have..."
He pointed at Stumpy.
"...Sharon Sparswith".
Loud cheering, stumpy pranced and preened in front of the audience. All that growth had gone to her arse and tits instead of on her height and she obviously liked to show them off. Then he pointed at me.
"And the challenger, Melody Anderson..."
A few scattered cheers, not exactly overwhelming. I guess I’m not the favourite. I raised my hands. Although I had not eaten anything all day, I still felt sick to my stomach.
"This fight is a no holds barred...".
Shit!
"...Fight to the finish. KO or submission".
Fuck!
I started doing my breathing exercises. Sharon had a dismissive sneer on her face.
“I’ve got this”. She told her lackeys, assured of her victory.
“Fight!”
Hugh Jackman announced as he moved out of the way. Leaving Sharon and me alone in the centre of our arena.
I’d heard his words, but I wasn’t sure what to do. I held my hands up, defensively. I remembered what Bailey told me: “This is gonna hurt, and the only way to make it stop is to hurt her more”. I was so scared. Sharon could smell my fear, she was grinning from ear to ear. She was sure about what she wanted to do.
She charged, arms around my waist, she drove me to the ground. Then she started punching and slapping. The slaps rocked my face, I could feel the red burning on my cheeks. Having softened me up, she started punching. The first punch hit my mouth. I could feel my lips bleeding. Her left hook hit my eye. I could feel it swelling.
Shit. I was getting pulverised, and I hadn’t done anything yet.
More out of panic than design, the palm of my right hand shot forward, hitting her under the chin. Her head shot back, and I felt her teeth snap shut. Her head was bent back so she was looking at the sky as I clawed at her lips, trying to pull them off. She was stunned. Scrambling, my left hand grabbed her hair behind her head, and I yanked with all my might. She yelled as I pulled her off me, landing on the ground.
As she fell to the side. I realised she was lying on my left leg, and the right one was free.
Improvising, I threw my right leg around her and squeezed. She moaned. I pulsed my hard dancer's legs again, the muscles in my legs standing out like cords as I put all my energy into squeezing the shit out of that bitch. She was shocked at the turnaround, she hadn’t expected this. I maintained the pressure; I used my arms to raise my upper body, gaining more leverage. She screamed some more. Good.
Something had taken me over. Bailey had said I'd feel different once the adrenaline kicked in. But this was something, something basic, something primal. I had never been in a fight before in my life. Through dancing, I used my body to express my emotions. But now, I was using my body to express my desire to destroy another human being. I had unleashed something...it scared me, but it also excited me.
Her hands tried to pull my legs apart, there was no way I was releasing that grip. Realising she was getting nowhere, her hands went from my legs to my nipples through my T-shirt. Pressing with her thumbs, trying to drive them into my ribs.
I shrieked at the white-hot pain screaming from my breasts. I wasn’t what you would call sexually active; okay, I’m still a virgin; I’ve never had a boyfriend. Nobody’s touched my breasts except me. And the first time they get touched by another human, they’re being forced through my ribs. Fuck! I pulsed my legs tighter, but she wouldn't stop pressing on my nipples.
With a cry of pain, I released my scissors and kicked her away. My kick flattened those juicy udders of hers, she screamed as she flew through the air. But she'd held onto my T-shirt, and it tore down the middle. I shrieked in embarrassment.
We both stood up at the same time. She looked at my ripped T-shirt as I tried to cover myself up.
"Nothing to see there", she grinned, pleased with herself.
"At least I haven't got saggy sacks like you". I snapped back.
"At least I've got sacks, you've just got man-boobs...". The crowd laughed, and I blushed.
"...Fuck I've never seen in growing tits before!". She giggled.
Quickly, while I tried vainly to cover up, she came towards me, grabbing my hair with both hands, and my head felt like it was on fire as I pulled hers. We both staggered in circles. Yanking hard, trying to topple the other over. All that could be heard were grunts and cries of pain.
Suddenly, she jumped and pulled my hair with all her body weight, the fat slag, twisting my neck. I was looking up now. I didn't see her lean forward at the target in front of her, mouth open. She chomped down.
"My fucking tit!" I screamed.
I tried to pull her head back, my tit stretched out like taffy, the bitch just held on to her bite. I screamed louder. I started hitting the side of her head with my fists, left, right, left, right. But the bitch started chewing my nipple, like it was a tough bit of meat. On the verge of hysteria, I wrenched her head, so she was facing up, her teeth still in my tit. Then I brought my fist down with a crash on her face.
"I'm gonna pound that pretty face into hamburger", I growled as my fist smashed down a second time. I thought about Bailey's words. Hurt her more.
I felt her hands release my hair as they scrambled at my body, pushing me away, but before I could examine my breast for damage, her uppercut impaled my stomach. I gasped.
I swung for her head, and she ducked. Slamming another fist into my belly. Shit. Bending, I staggered back. She came after me, she dodged my left hook, but she didn't see the right hook, which crunched her face.
She came back in, crowding me, her fists slamming into my torso. I slammed a left into her tit, it flew out of her tank top. Her right hook slammed into my face. Moaning, I stepped back, trying to get some distance. Then I kicked out a straight right foot into her belly. She gasped, stepping back, clutching her stomach.
She came towards me swinging. Fuck that. My hands went to her head, stopping her in her tracks. She swung at me, but the little shit couldn't reach me. She was cursing, telling me what she’d do if she got hold of me.
Big if, bitch. It looked comical; I started giggling, and some in the crowd joined in. Then, I went on offense. I pushed her head down, straight into my raised knee. I heard a wet crunch and a moan.
I kicked up into her belly. I heard the whoosh as the air left her lungs.
I released a hand and started punching up into her face. She tried to block, but a few got through. Then, I started varying it with the odd knee. I could see blood on my hand, and it wasn’t mine. I felt a thrill, reveling in the damage I was causing to another human being.
Suddenly, she moved back, my hand was still trying to push on a head that was no longer there. Fuck. I lurched forward, overbalanced, I fell, kissing the ground with my face.
The next I knew, her foot was stomping on my back. I cried out.
"Fucking..."
Stomp.
"...skinny..."
Another stomp, this time grinding in her heels.
"...slag"
She kicked hard at my ribs. I felt she was going to break my back. The crowd cheered her on as I screamed.
"Time to end this", she muttered as she jumped on my back. Then my head was on fire as it was yanked back by the hair in a two-handed grip. I screamed. Then I felt her arm around my throat, it jerked tight. I gasped as she cut me off from life-giving air. My hands fruitlessly pulled at her arm. I was beginning to panic. The hand she was not using to strangle me snaked its way down my ripped shirt. Her thumb and forefinger squeezed my nipple, turning it clockwise. I had too little breath left to scream; I just sobbed.
She pulsed her grip, pulling my neck back harder. I was starting to blub. I was getting desperate. My vision was going blurry. She was winning, she was choking me. I could feel her hot breath on my neck as she was fucking cackling. She was that close.
Hysterically, my hands flew behind me. I jabbed my fingers into her eye. When I found them, I pushed them in as far as I could. She screamed. Her chokehold loosened. I twisted round, I smashed my hands together with her head in the middle. She shrieked. I nailed her with a left hook, right hook combo just like Bailey showed me. She fell onto her back. I was on my knees, too fucked to follow up. Breathe. Use your diaphragm, in through the nose, out through the mouth.
"You..."
Keep breathing.
"...got..."
Another breath.
"...this, really?"
Getting the words out between breaths. I reminded her of her earlier boasting statement. She lay on her back, rocking, holding her eyes. Moaning "You bitch...you bitch". That big, bruised hooter I liberated was wobbling all over the place as she rocked, like a jelly in an earthquake. Her face was a mess, bruises and blood dripped from her nose and lips.
I just sat there on my knees. Breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. My T-shirt looked more like a jacket, my boobs were out for all to see. My body was covered in sweat, diluting all the blood leaking from my face. My silky hair, not so silky anymore, plastered to my face.
The crowd was cheering us both on, urging us to fuck the other up. A part of my brain registered that I had started this fight with just Bailey cheering for me; now, half the crowd wanted me to win. I'd gained fans.
We both stood, glaring at each other.
"Not the push-over you thought I'd be? Eh, you big-titted freak!"
"Oh, you'll be eating through a straw very soon". She warned.
She moved towards me, and I jabbed, using my superior reach, just like Bailey showed me. Her nose exploded in blood. I smiled. Furious, she came in again. This time, I nailed her eye. It felt all squidgy against my knuckles. I was remembering my lessons: only punch the soft bits, the rest, slap. I lined up her for the other eye. She bent, grabbing my legs, and she heaved. I fell on my back. With a whoop, she dove on top of me.
She slapped at my face. I saw stars. My legs came up. I hooked them under her shoulders and slammed her to the ground. I kicked out, my foot clocking her chin. While she lay there stunned, I crossed my legs, trapping her neck with my lower legs. Can't reach my tits now can you bitch? Her eyes bulged, and her face started turning red.
"Grrrk!" She whimpered. Sitting up, I grabbed at her hair with both hands and leaning back, I pulled as hard as I could. Her face was crimson now, trapped between my lower legs. She reached out to grab any part of me she could. She was too much of a short-arse; her hands couldn't reach anything. Ha! Pulling at her hair, I slammed her face into the ground.
I saw her straightening her fingers on her right hand. And then...
FUCK!!
The bitch jabbed her fingers into my crotch. I spasmed like I'd been electrocuted, releasing my hold on her throat. Free from my stranglehold, she lay on the ground coughing while I rocked on the ground, clutching at my injured crotch, whimpering.
The crowd were cheering us on.
"Finish her off, Sharon"
"You can do it, Mel"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her getting up and realised I had to as well. We faced each other. She was still coughing, and I was clutching my poor pussy.
"Dirty fucking whore!" I snapped.
"No holds barred, Barbie", she mocked.
"Fuck you"
My sudden kick shot out, the rising foot smashed into her crotch with a dull thud. Her eyes bugged out like they were on stalks. She staggered, clutching her wounded pussy.
"No holds barred, stumpy". I mocked back. Her face went crimson with anger.
My kick had been spontaneous. I hadn't put enough planning behind it. It hadn’t ended her, it had just made her angry. But still...we had been fighting for fifteen minutes? An hour? An eternity? And still the bitch hadn't managed to put me down. I was still standing. I felt this was a victory in itself.
And she knew it. You could see it in her face. She’d thought I was a delicate, air-headed Barbie doll, a beanpole. She thought she'd have me on the ground, crying for my mummy, sobbing for mercy. But I wasn't. She knew half the crowd had changed their allegiance to me. Her authority was slipping away. Even if she did beat me now, she would be forever known as the girl who almost had her arse handed to her by a beanpole. You could see it in the anger written on her face.
She growled, charging towards me. Her face full of murderous intent. If she got her hands on me, she’d rip me to shreds. I did not have much left.
7" For a moment, the fear overwhelmed me. I fought it down, like when I used to get nervous before a performance. I cleared my mind. I remembered my dance training. The world went into super-slow motion.
I breathed in, deeply, through the nose, using the diaphragm. I stepped into pointe, pivoting. I leapt into the air. My high kick, the grand battement, straight leg and pointed foot swung into her face. The impact sounded like a gunshot. Her head twisted at an unnatural angle. Her mouth deformed as I saw blood and spittle shoot from it. I saw her eyes go glassy. I saw her jaw drop. It’s called a pique turn, bitch. It’s that dance training you said wouldn’t do me any good. Mrs. Wiltshire would have been so proud.
I pivoted. Stepped into pointe with my other foot, and then I kicked again. Another thundercrack and Sharon's head snapped the other way, spraying more blood and spit, maybe a tooth. She staggered like she was blind drunk. Then she stopped, dead still. Gently swaying like a tree in the wind. Her eyes were blank. Her mouth open, blood gently trickled down her face. The lights were on, but no one was home. Then someone turned the lights off, her legs gave out. She sank to her knees. She tried to get up, but she couldn’t; nothing was working. I saw a damp patch on the crotch of her shorts.
And then, like a clockwork toy running out of power, she stopped. She fell on her face, her mouth open, drooling onto the grass.
I stood there dumbstruck by what I had done. The crowd was silent.
And then it hit me.
IFuckingWon! IFuckingWon! IFuckingWon! YouHeardMe IFuckingWon!!The crowd erupted, cheering. People were surrounding me, patting me on my back, shaking my hand, wanting to be my new best friend. I heard Hugh Jackman announce me the winner. I didn’t pay attention. My brain, my entire body was buzzing on an adrenaline high I’d never known before. It was like after I’d done a great performance, but this was even more intense.
I searched in the crowd for Bailey. I caught her eye. I mouthed the words,
"Thank you".
She smiled and gave me the thumbs up.
Did I ever tell you, that first public performance when I was fourteen? I smashed it. My parents were so impressed that they actually supported my 'crazy' career decision. No more talk of hairdressing school.
After the crowd had started to disperse, Bailey came over to me.
"Want a drink to celebrate?" she asked.
"Yes!" I said, "That would be cool. A nice glass of wine. But not Vichy water..."
'"I hate Vichy water" Too nerdy? I was giddy with victory, just making stupid jokes.
Instead of asking 'what the fuck are you talking about?' She smiled, amused.
She put her arm in mine.
"Y'know beanpole, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship"
“Yes Louie”, I smiled, she got it! “I think it is”.
