“Are you sure you want to do this, Beth?” SarahBelle asked.
Beth looked up- seemingly startled- by the question. “Of course, I’m sure. Elliot has been pulling prank after prank on me ever since the new semester. He has to pay.”
“There’s no way Master Wizard Alfredo is going to allow you to do this.”
“Do you think I’m going to ask?”
“It’s against all the coven’s rules, using magic on one another. Even Elliot doesn’t do that. His pranks are just a harmless Guinea pig in you dresser drawers, or a garden snake under the pillow. He just wants you to notice him.” AnneMay tried to speak some sense into her friend. “He’s never done anything that would harm you.”
“Notice him. Notice him!” Beth could hardly contain her emptions. “Elliot will know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I have noticed him.”
“But a frog?” intervened SarahBelle once again. “You could get expelled from Academy if you get caught.”
“Nonsense,” declared Beth. “We mix this potion in Elliot’s soup at evening’s supper. Give it four hours, by curfew- Elliott’s a slimy, crusty amphibian. No one will notice that he is missing. Elliot’s always away plotting and scheming over the weekend. By Sunday, the spell will have worn off. It’s likely no one will even know anything every happened- except Elliot.”
“But if you get caught?” simultaneously, the two girl’s fears were spoken.
Curled armadillo-like in the corner of the octagon, my lifted arms were tightly wrapped around my head.
The Ragin’ Cajun had swept me from my feet after repeatedly pummeling my left calf.
I only had moments to turn this match back into some semblance of equal standing or the referee would call it.
Slowing spinning to my right, I used my leverage from the wall of the cage to allow myself to become up upright.
The crowd was in a frenzy. The Cajun was a favorite in Atlanta. It didn’t matter that the entirety of the stadium was against me; my body responded to the jeers as easily as the cheers.
Once on my feet, my arms could again block the continuous jabs and uppercuts that were assaulting me.
He was smiling.
He thought he had my number.
I knew if I waited long enough, he would try to clock me with his signature move. I had watched every match this clown had posted on YouTube. This cocky imbecile had his own channel. And in the studying, I had found his ‘tick’.
Just before he would do his patented spin-kick butterfly to down his opponent, he would always glance to his corner.
If I could wait, his eyes would turn to acknowledge his upcoming triumph, I only had to hold on.
Exhausted on my feet, I decided to encourage his victory. I lowered my hands, just a little, and allowed the Cajun to fully connect a fierce jab to my solar plexus.
I doubled over. It looked as if I had been crippled. I seemed to be gasping for air.
The deception worked.
The Cajun instantly turned and smiled to his corner.
From my hip, I threw all my weight for a right-handed uppercut straight to his left jaw.
The Cajun went down.
I stepped back.
The referee looked at me.
I just motioned for him to begin his count.
This had been written as a prompt for The Fabulous Free Versers Club @ FanStory. Then I realized, this was far more a flash story than free verse.