The afternoon sun baked the massive sports complex behind Crestwood High.
The school was for rich parents.
So state-of-the-art facilities were the norm!
Inside the dojo of the martial-arts club, the mood was already a war crime.
Two senior boys were curled on the tatami like discarded shrimp as they quietly questioned every life choice that had led them to challenge Susan Fox today.
Their groans were soft, almost polite; Susan had clearly been in a merciful mood. If she'd actually been trying, they'd be speaking in falsetto for a week.
The club president was a wiry third-year named Elijah with a buzz-cut and permanent stress lines.
"Uhh… who wants to fight Susan today?"
He sluggishly wiped sweat from his brow and scanned the remaining members.
Half the guys suddenly discovered intense interest in their toenails or the ceiling tiles.
"No one's got the balls today?"
A wave of shuffling.
Someone coughed.
