A few of you asked for the revised version of the first GFN chapter. This is the first draft, it'll probably go through more revision in the future. Enjoy and tell me what you think :)

Love on the Battlefield: Chapter 1
Rachel Lewis
2013
Edited

You're probably used to hearing of a normal American high school being the battlefield that so many teenagers fight their wars on. It could be a simple beat-down between football players who later pose the question of anything happening at all. Maybe it's a more complicated, prolonged cat fight between two best friends over a smug, cheating boyfriend. We've all witnessed the lowest of levels, the highest roads, and everything in between, mostly as our not-so-guilty pleasure. The swarm of bodies surrounding that kind of energy, verbal or physical, is usually something that gets us up in the morning. The deafening cheers, fist pumps, even anticipation of teachers rushing to stop it can be beautiful. Yes, high school fights can easily prove to be better than television, especially for the fighters.

But have you ever stopped to think about what drives the fingers to curl, the blood to boil, and the sanity to escape? Even after we find out what caused the anger when the fight's long over, do we care? Maybe this setting is fitting for the answer to these questions.

Wake up, students, this lesson is important.

Welcome to Guerrezone High School.

The wave of red and black upon entering GZ might be overwhelming to first-time visitors. The banners, curtains, and floor emblems may seem a bit over the top, especially with the streaks of blood red in the floor-to-ceiling windows surrounding the library and office. Recent renovations seemed obvious, gleaming chrome and linoleum every way you turned. No one would ever know about the splintered dent in the cafeteria door last year.

"Say it again, Montez, I dare you!"

The brand new overhead lighting provided students with a way into the darkest depths of the hallways, even pointing out the shining mirrors in the bathrooms. The old blood stains and cracked glass couldn't distract anyone anymore.

"I'm just getting started, Guarda…"

Although there is one factor of this beautiful building that will never fade, and that's the voices etched in the walls. Just as they start to die down, new screams of excitement and rage refill them to the point of a riot and you're left with damaged doors, blood stains and broken glass.

The saying asks if walls can talk. What they see is far more interesting.

"Fight, fight, fight, FIGHT!"

The walls both inside and outside the building have seen enough for years to come. The morning traffic in the student parking lot looked perfectly normal and, to the kids, it was for the most part. A group of well-known junior boys stood by a white pickup truck, surrounding the brunette owner as they watched the black Honda Accord pull into a spot behind them. Their peers slowed down, already knowing what was about to happen.

Another junior stepped out of the driver's seat and threw his bag over his broad shoulder, shut his door, then started walking around the group by the truck. His stiff neck and low eyes gave away his restraint and prevented him from seeing the brunette step to the front of the group.

His blue Nike moved in front of the oncoming student without a second thought.

The 6'1" black-clad mass caught himself and immediately turned his body, grabbing the offender by the back of the neck. The background conversations halted, as did all movement.

Let the games begin.

Brandon Montez smiled, the evil reaching his eyes under his long black bangs. "Too slow," he purred "Just like the child you are."

The blue Nike quickly twisted and pushed away from Brandon, rejoining his friends. Tyler Guarda straightened his wrinkled t-shirt and raised a brown eyebrow. "Perfect imitation, Montez."

"Oh, that's sweet," Brandon scoffed. "Now we're using big words."

"Big words for a big name."

Brandon rolled his eyes and crossed his thick arms. "Your dad's a coach for the county basketball team. Excuse me if I don't understand his 'legacy'." He emphasized the sarcastic ending with air quotes.

Tyler just grinned, slow and dangerous, in a way that always put Brandon on immediate edge. It was the signal that he was aiming below the belt with no remorse.

"Better to have twenty people know you as a hero than two thousand to know you as a failure."

Tyler was against his truck before he could feel any satisfaction in breaking Brandon. He tried to hide the fact that he was gasping for air from Brandon's flexed forearms crushing his trachea and forced a laugh.

Brandon, however, stood perfectly still as he stared into Tyler's smug eyes. His voice, nearly wiped of all humanity, was an animalistic growl. "I should just kill you right now and not even think about it."

Tyler was hot on his heels with a reply. "Go ahead; see if you live past tonight."

"Don't have too much faith in your little crew," Brandon referred to the hesitant crowd surrounding them. "I have no problem taking them all out with one hand tied behind my back."

Tyler hesitated, his eyes drifting to the ground when he seemed to catch himself in a forbidden thought. "Yeah, that's what I meant..."

The throng around them suddenly came alive when Tyler's best friend, Seth Fidel, sighed as if he'd had enough. "Come on, Ty."

Brandon didn't leave Tyler's eyes and whispered "Don't move."

He didn't even flinch when his own best friend, Mike Devoto, threw his hands into the air. "Take him out, Brandon!"

Brandon finally turned his head and raised his voice. "I'm not done yet!"

Tyler took his chance. He threw his palm into Brandon's elbow in a quick jab, having Brandon accidentally punch himself in the jaw. Too startled to stop him, Brandon stumbled back as Tyler escaped back to his friends. Tyler's smile was back upon hearing everyone around him howl with laughter.

He cocked his head to the side in a cruel mock. "Stop hittin' yourself."

Brandon tried to steady himself while holding his bruised jaw. He made a motion to advance on Tyler while he seethed "You son of a—."

"I'd love to stay and chat," Tyler cut him off and checked his expensive watch. "but I don't respond well to name-calling and I'm gonna be late for class." He looked around at his friends. "Who can afford to ditch?"

He already knew the answer. Even though two out of the three had detention after school for that very reason, Seth, Chris, and Jason all grinned and slowly raised their hands.

Tyler clasped his hands together. "Great. Would you mind?"

Seth's eyes fixed on Brandon's in an almost hungry glare. He cracked his knuckles violently and started walking. "No problem, boss."

The warning bell rang and a fraction of the crowd dispersed, but most stayed to watch the best part of the show. The epic finale of watching whomever lost get taken by the victor's friends to be dealt with. Seth and Jason grabbed Brandon's strong arms that automatically started fighting back, but failed when Chris punched him in his solid stomach. They dragged him around the corner to the deserted dumpster area and, as always, had to clamp a hand over Brandon's mouth.

The students, finally satisfied, started on their way to class, eyes bright and recapping their favorite parts of the latest battle. Eyes stuck on Tyler as he grabbed his bag out of his truck, found his best triumphant smile, and headed off along with his classmates. It was seemingly the perfect way to start off a day in the life of a high school warrior.

But even victorious warriors have to relive their kills sometime. Tyler was gone, but not without hearing the guttural screams coming from Brandon, beaten, left behind him.

"GUARDA!"