Young Writers Society

June staggered back against the ropes, spots flying across her vision. Her head pounded and she could feel a warm substance slowly trickling down her lip. She knew it wasn’t a good day; she’d taken three hits in the first fifteen seconds of the round and hadn’t gotten a single punch to connect. Her opponent was relentless, getting close and pounding her ribs before she could put up her arms. She couldn’t lose this. Not again. She needed the money. She looked up, clenching her jaw trying to see straight before shaking her head and raising her hands back up.

“And June is back in the fight!” the announcer’s voice echoed through the old warehouse they called a fight club.

June barely had time to react as her opponent threw another punch, missing her jaw by inches. She ducked and weaved around her opponents swings, looking for an opening, taking every advantage she could get. Where was the bell? Surely it had been five minutes. June wasn’t sure how much longer she could take this. Every muscle in her body begged for her to stop. But she couldn’t, not now. She could see he was getting tired as well. 

“Just a little longer and I’ll have him,” she thought. 

She lashed out with a side-kick, putting as much force into it as her body would allow, grinning as the crackled of a broken rib was heard. Her opponent staggered back, landing on all fours. There was her chance. Even though her legs felt like iron, she willed them to move, going to plant a kick into the exposed ribs. A sickening crack echoed out, pain shooting up her leg. She felt herself crash to the ground, watching helplessly as her rival planted kick after kick into her gut. That was it. She was done for. It was hard to raise her hand, to concede after only one round, but she had to.

***

“Can anyone tell me which war the Canadians were most prominent in?” the teacher asked to the class. June’s hand shot up like a rocket. History was always her strong subject, even when she was only in grade six. The teacher looked around the room “Anyone other than June…?” she responded to the silence. Not one other hand was raised.

The teacher looked over to her, “Yes, June?”

“The Canadians were most prominent in World War I for their success at taking Vimy Ridge, a highly strategic point during the war. Even though no other country could take it from Germany, the Canadians did.” June responded proudly. The teacher nodded with a smile, writing her answer on the board as well as that day’s homework. June quickly took it down and packed up her books. 

“Alright class, we’re gonna head to the gym now. I want you to get changed and meet me inside, alright?” she looked over the class, silently counting them. The class nodded and exchanged murmurs, walking to the changerooms.

***

“Hey, nice fight June,” Simon said mockingly, following her on the way to the changerooms.

“Ten more feet,” she thought “and i’ll be alone at last.”

Simon had been the only one who could best her in the ring for a few years now. 

“Oh come on June!” he called out to her as she walked in to the change room, closing the door a little harder than usual. She pulled on her hoodie over top of her tank-top, before tying up her shoes and tossing her backpack over her shoulder. She let down her hair, shaking her head, almost collapsing onto the bench. 

Her head pounded “Probably just a concussion,” she thought, as she stood and walked to the exit.

She’d always liked the city smell and the cool breeze that always welcomed her at this time of year. It was...calming in a way. It reminded her of home, well, what used to be home. Nothing had changed here since then. It was like having nostalgia everyday. June strolled over to the bus stop, putting in her cheap earbuds and zoning out, trying to forget about the throbbing pain resonating from her body. Soon enough, the bus showed up and she boarded, ready for the hour long ride home.

***

The bell was the best part of the day. It was time to go home. The kids rushed out of the front doors like water coming out of a firehose, clambering onto the school buses as fast as they could get to them. June walked slowly out of the school, trailing behind, wondering if her sister had been born yet. She’d been unable to focus much since her mother had gone into labor that morning. June was just getting onto the bus when she was driven to the hospital.

She climbed onto the bus, sitting alone right at the front, doodling in her notebook. The bus ride home was always nice. Her bus, unlike some of the other ones, was pretty quiet because not many people talked, so she was able to sleep on the way home. She knew the instant the bus pulled up at her stop that they were back from the hospital and sprinted to the door. She burst through the door, where her parents waited, a baby in their arms. June put down her bag gently, walking over to her new sister quietly. 

“What’s her name?” she asked in a whisper. 

“We were thinking you’d like to help name her June.” they replied. June was almost bursting with excitement. 

“We were thinking something along the lines of Autumn,” they said, looking at the baby “how’s that sound?”. June smiled, looking at her sister, so innocent and quiet 

“Hi Autumn, i’m June, your sister.”. Nothing mattered to June anymore, nothing but her sister. Every night she’d be the one to put her to bed and to get her bottle ready every morning. She loved her sister and made a promise to her that she’d never let anything happen to her, as long as she lived.

***

“I’m so sorry Autumn…I broke my promise.” June said quietly, kneeling by the grave of her sister. She only made it to her second year. It was too young to die. She’d had this feeling before. A feeling of dread inside her, knowing she screwed up and this was her fault. 

“Damn it!” she yelled at herself, slamming her fist into the grass, pain shooting up her arm, still tired from the fight.

***

The sound of the door ripping off it’s hinges was so loud June almost dropped her sister. Within seconds, the police were everywhere. The house was filled with people barking orders and June swore she could smell tear gas. What was going on? Surely this was a mistake. But maybe not. Her parents were always secretive about where all the money came from. No, she wasn’t going to this now. She had to protect Autumn. Little Autumn, cradled in her arms, crying. They weren’t safe here. She had to run. She kicked open the door and hit the grass running, yells filled the air and people were chasing her. Everything went so fast.

Then, all was silent, except the crackle of a gunshot filling the air.

Pain exploded from June’s side. The world spun and everything was quiet again. All she saw was red...but surely her wound hadn’t been that bad. It didn’t even hurt that much anymore. Her face dropped, looking up from the bloodstained grass, she saw Autumn laying motionless, just out of reach. “No,” she thought “it’s impossible…I couldn’t have..”.

The last thing she remembered was being dragged off and put into a police car before blacking out.

Side note: If this is a little confusing to read, it is an english assignment meant to have triggers from present to past. An example would be June raising her hand to concede versus raising her hand to answer in class.