Bad OddsMature

   "Hey Scarface!" Someone shouted from across the room. What now? Sam thought to himself as he turned around to face his tormentor. There wasn't any suprise in Sam's face, he knew who was shouting his God-forsaken nickname, his school time bully, one Robert Bale. A nasty piece of work. He was smaller than Sam only by two inches, however he was by far the heaviest of the two. He plodded over to where Sam and his best friend Douglas sat, he took his time, as he looked as if every step gave him grief, like he was stepping on a bed of nails. He was built like a prop forward, bulky, but in a food sort of way, Sam often chuckled to himself at this fact. Robert was part of a clique of friends who saw themselves as above everyone else, but he gave more grief to Sam and Douglas than the rest of the school combined (and it was a big school I think you'll find). "What you listening to, eh?"

   Sam knew what was coming, "Dimmu Borgir." He said simply.

   "Ba, that shit." Robert spat, the next bit of his sentence Sam could almost recite off by heart, as Robert had often repeated it during tormentings about his music tastes. "Emo scum like you need to be killed, maybe you could use your wrist cutting knife and end your miserable life now."

    At this Douglas stood up and faced off Robert, "Why don't you shut up, before I shove your face in the dirt?"

   "You get your puny friend to defend you?" Robert said as he burst out laughing, "Maybe you should go play with the year 3's little boy."

   Sam stood up to defend his friend, "He may be small, but at least his voice is deeper than yours, and maybe you and your chavvy friends should go and stab some random guy in the street, like the rest of your kind seem to do."

   Robert just laughed again, "Great comeback Scarface." This drove Sam over the edge, he pushed Robert over a table. Robert got back up suprised and him and his friends faced off Sam and Douglas. "Big mistake Scarface, now you're gonna pay." He spat. Sam had no chance, seven against one weren't great odds. I say seven to one because they didn't include Douglas in the brawl. Sam was a good fighter, his senses seemed acutely aware of everything around him so he could've escaped three against one odds with barely a scratch, but seven against one was too much. He got off to a good start, kicking two of Roberts friends in the balls making them out for the counting, but two of his other friends grabbed both his arms and restrained him. Luckly for Sam, the only punch that hit him was to the nose, as after that punch the teacher interupted the brawl.

    "What in God's name is going on here?!" She shouted. It was Mrs. Taylor, Sam couldn't believe his luck.

    "Umm...ahh...nothing Miss." Robert stammered.

   "Nothing! NOTHING! You were obviously about to severely beat up this young lad!" She shouted at him. "You are all coming for detention at lunchtime! I want you all, including Sam!"

    "Why me Miss?" Sam asked innocently. She pointed simply to the two goons writhing in pain on the floor. "Ahh...yes, sorry I asked Miss." She huffed and walked to her desk to start the lesson.

   "Oh and Sam." She said.

   "Yes Miss?"

   "Go to matron and get her to tend to that nose." It was only when she said this that Sam felt liquid pooring out of his nose and tasted a salty tang in his mouth, it was bleeding, quite badly at that.

   "You're dead after school Scarface" Robert scowled. As Sam picked up his bag Douglas gave him a sympathetic smile as if to say "Don't worry about it" and Sam winked at him as if to say "I'm not worrying".

The End

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