QUINN GRAY'S POV:

When I was sure Dean hadn't followed me, I sat down on the edge of the sidewalk and inhaled deeply. My chest ached in complaint, scolding me for breathing. Like I have a choice, I thought.

What had I gotten myself into? I was sure that if I'd put up more of a struggle in the car, Dean wouldn't have forced me to go through with the karate lessons. But now, I was stuck with a bunch of cruel assholes – mildly good-looking assholes – who could beat me up seven ways from Sunday anytime they pleased.

Though, I couldn't blame Dean for everything. The truth was that it felt good to be a part of something so united again. The white gi, the belt, the same fierce cobra on the back – everyone in there was a team.

Even back in Oregon, my old karate friends were more of a family to me than my real one. I could already see the appeal of being one of Kreese's students. And I was sure that if I gave it time, I'd grow used to being sadistic and merciless like him and the rest of his boys.

Part of me didn't really mind that, and it scared me.

I didn't really feel like going home and dealing with Dean yet, so I hitched a cab and decided to roam around LA instead. The cab driver gawked at me when he first saw me, and I could tell he was very close to calling the police on my behalf, but I pulled my hood up and slouched in the backseat and asked him to take me somewhere "fun".

He proceeded to drop me off at Golf 'N Stuff.

Dean had told me about the place back when I'd first arrived in California, though I hadn't paid much attention to it. I wasn't big on amusement parks. Things like bumper cars and trampolines and stupid games where you had to throw a ball and knock down as many pins as possible didn't appeal to me. The only thing I was okay with were rollercoasters, but even those got tiring after a while.

There were a lot of couples at Golf 'N Stuff when I arrived. I didn't know how they could ever find a place like that acceptable for a date. That stuff seemed a lot more suitable for people who were just friends. It wasn't romantic at all.

I made a beeline for the closest bathroom. There were a few girls already inside, so I waited as inconspicuously as possible until they were gone to take my jacket off. When I did, my stomach did a flip.

There was dried blood spattered on my nose and chin, and I was already forming a black eye. I frantically wetted some paper towels and dabbed at the stains. When everything was cleaned up, the only real damage was a reddened nose – not broken, thank God – and the eye that I was fighting hard to keep open.

"It's fine," I said out loud. "You'll be fine."

Though it hurt to breathe, after running careful fingers across my ribs and wincing under my touch, I realized that none were broken. I tried to straighten my posture as much as I could, and giving myself one last look in the mirror, I walked out of the bathroom.

I ignored the looks I got from everyone that passed me. The bruises on my face were just indications that I wasn't afraid to fight them. Let them stare. Even though I couldn't beat Johnny, I was sure that I could beat everyone else – anyone else. Hell, even his stupid friends would be dead meat if I ever had to fight them. Who cared about strangers staring?

Let them stare. And if they stare too long, I'll kick their faces in.

I scolded myself for thinking that. I was angry, that was all. There wasn't any need for me to turn into a bully like Kreese. It shouldn't make me happy to think about hurting others.

But it did. I wanted to take out my anger on someone – no, not someone.

Dean. That bastard. He was the reason why my eye was swelling shut and my nose stung every time I breathed, and why it felt like I was being stabbed repeatedly in the chest whenever I moved. I wanted to punch him into next year and let him feel how I felt.

I retreated into the nearby Arcade. It was intimidating – so many games and not enough time to play them all – but my eyes fixed themselves on the ice hockey table. There were already two boys getting ready to play, but the moment I stepped into view and smiled – painfully – their faces lit up.

"D'you mind if I join?" I asked.

It was pathetically obvious that they were staring at my eye, but at least they had the decency not to mention it. The stockier of the boys nodded at me.

"Sure, let's see what you've got."

It didn't take long for me to beat him. Maybe I was good, maybe he was going easy on me, I didn't care. It felt a lot less thrilling to win than I thought it would.

"Nice moves," the boy said. He held his hand out after the match. "Freddy Fernandez."

"Quinn Gray." I shook it.

"This is Alan," he introduced the boy beside him. Alan wore a red bandanna, halfway lost in his curly hair. Tacky, but it suited him. He held out his hand, too.

"You guys go to school around here?" I asked.

"Yeah, West Valley," Freddy replied.

"Cool. Me, too." Or at least, that's what Dean had told me. I wondered if I'd gotten the name wrong.

"I haven't seen you at school before," Freddy says. We'd started to move away from the table hockey and onto shooting hoops. He tossed a ball and missed.

"I'm new," I said. It left a sour taste in my mouth. "I just moved here from Oregon."

"Wow. What was it like?"

"I don't know. Nice?"

My aversion towards the subject made him drop it altogether. I picked up a ball and threw it at the hoop. It went in, all net and no rim. Freddy's eyes widened.

"You play a lot?"

"Not really."

We walked around the Arcade for a while, trying out different games. It was the perfect distraction, or was until Freddy cleared his throat.

"So, I've been meaning to ask but I didn't want to seem rude. What happened to your eye?"

Alan inched forward. He, too, was curious.

Defeated, I sighed. "Do you want the short version or the long version?"

"Short version," Freddy decided.

"I got into a fight." Both boys looked at me expectantly like they were waiting for the next part of the story, but I pursed my lips and headed for a Pac-Man machine in the back.

"That's all we get?" Alan pushed.

"You guys said you wanted the short version."

"C'mon, spill," Freddy urged. "What happened?"

I ended up leading them outside. We walked around the grounds while I talked. I didn't tell them much – just that I used to do karate back in Salem and that my brother thought it would be good for me to get back into it, and that I was forced to spar by my soon-to-be sensei even though it had been almost two years since I'd done anything that physically demanding.

"That's so cool!" Alan's eyes twinkled. "What dojo are you training at?"

"The Cobra Kai dojo." My voice seethed with venom. The boys didn't notice.

They started getting excited and telling me all kinds of stories about how amazing that dojo was and how impressive the students were. I tried to tune them out, occasionally humming in agreement. It was only when they brought up the subject of Johnny Lawrence that I started to pay attention again.

"Yeah, I know him," I said. "I fought him."

This cued another barrage of questions and observations that I wasn't too fond of. Did he kick your ass? He's Kreese's favourite student, you can't stand a chance. Johnny's a two-time champion – did you ever compete before?

Of course, Alan and Freddy hadn't sounded that scornful and maybe I was extrapolating a little, but the message was crystal clear – Johnny Lawrence was a threat.

"Whatever," I said. "It doesn't matter."

"But it does!" Freddy exclaimed. "You're, like, the first girl to be a Cobra Kai. Ever."

"Huh."

Alan raised an eyebrow. "You're telling us you don't care at all? About any of this?"

"I really don't." Liar. "I'm just doing this because my brother's paying for the lessons." Though that was one of the reasons, I didn't dare tell them the whole truth. I couldn't admit how deep Johnny Lawrence had burrowed himself under my skin over the past few hours, or how humiliated I felt when everyone in that dojo – including my brother – was rooting against me.

Freddy and Alan were both unconvinced, but they strayed from the topic.

"Anyways, we're having a beach party in a few days," Freddy said. "You should come."

"Sure."

"Cool."

It was easy to hang out with them when they weren't talking about how cool Johnny Lawrence was. I found myself enjoying their company; they weren't all that different from my old friends in Salem, which was comforting. As Freddy and Alan continued to show off, I even found myself smiling.

California was starting to look slightly less horrible than before.


I know this is super late, but better late than never, right? Thank you so much for everyone that read the first part and reviewed it. Hopefully I'll be more consistent with updates in the future!