Jonathan finds me the next day in the cafeteria. The big hall is filled with rows of students eating. The clattering of plates, cutlery and teenage chatter is loud. I drown it out with my iPod. Ever since I arrived a month ago, I eat alone anyway. The tunes keep me company.
But today I’m not alone. Jonathan drops onto the bench across from me, smacking his cafeteria tray onto the table.
“Hello, Downtown Darwin Stone.” He holds a hand out for a fist bump. I just look at it and slowly pull my earbuds out.
“What did you call me?” I say. “Downtown?”
“Yeah, because you’re from the inner city, right?” He pulls his hand back. “That’s all anyone knows about you, actually. That you transferred from a public school downtown.”
I nod and pay attention to finishing off my sandwich. Jonathan watches me for a moment, still half smiling. Then he starts into his own lunch, speaking around a mouthful of lasagna.
“They also say you came here because you decked a teacher at your last school. Based on what you did to Mason yesterday, I’d say that sounds about right.” Jonathan’s forkful of lasagna stops midway to his mouth. “Is it true?”
I sigh and rub the bridge of my nose. “No, it’s not true. I got in a couple of fights. But so did everybody else. It’s just a fact of life.”
Jonathan pushes the orange-red pasta around his plate. “So why did you come to Norfolk?”
Because my mom wanted me to have some “good influences” in my life. Not to end up in prison like my dad. Or bleeding out from a random drive-by shooting.
“I was too smart for my last school,” I say. “Norfolk couldn’t resist me.”
“Right.” Jonathan snorts, nearly spilling the milk he’s drinking. He finishes with his food and pushes the tray away. “Okay, smart guy. Remember how I said I could pay you back?”
“Yeah.”
Jonathan leans over the table and motions for me to come closer.
“I run a fight club, and I want you to be in it.”
“A what?”
“A fight club. Bunch of guys get together and take each other on. Man to man. No holds barred. The audience pays me, I take bets on the winner. That kind of thing.” His smile is wide and white, like his dentist did something extra to make it shine.
“Sounds kind of stupid,” I say. “And illegal.”
“Yeah, it’s both,” Jonathan says. “But I’ve had two fights so far, and it’s made a crapload of cash. You could make a lot of money.”
I cross my arms. “What do I have to do?”
“I want you to be my next star,” he says. “My fighter. I’ll pay you to be in the ring.”
I watch him closely. “Why me?”
“Because I’ve seen you in action.” The smile goes to a thousand watts. “And you’re a natural.”