Little Mikey
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Ch3. - Jen the Protector
🕑 Added 2024-03-31 12:02:23 +0000 UTCWait -- where was Amir? She’d just assumed he’d wait here for her! Sudden, possibly irrational worry gripped her as her eyes darted around and—
Whew. There he was, off the path a ways, chatting up three college chicks. Tall ones, strong and athletic – clearly his type. That sly dog! She exhaled in relief, feeling silly for worrying. He said he came here all the time; of course he could fend for himself. He didn’t need her protec—
The dark-haired girl in front of him snickered and pushed him backward. Pure adrenaline seized Jen, as the other two girls pinballed him side to side.
They were bullying him.
Jen’s legs were already pounding the dirt before she had a conscious thought. All she could feel was the wind rushing through her hair – then the jolting shock of collision. The girl was like a brick wall: stockier than Jen and an inch taller. But Jen rammed into her like a wrecking ball and sent her stumbling four steps sideways before she narrowly regained her footing.
“Wh… Who the fuck are you?” she spat, through plump lips below vicious green eyes. Damn, she looked tough.
Jen reached for Amir – but the brunette behind him pulled him away too quickly, as the tall redhead next to her planted herself in Jen’s way with a threatening stare.
Jen didn’t back down for an instant. “Let him go!” she roared.
Redhead and Brunette flinched, majorly. “Aww, what, are you his mommy?” Dark Hair mocked, undeterred.
The words bounced off Jen, but the sight of her best friend struggling so helplessly set her blood aboil. “Hands off him,” she growled, in a voice she hardly recognized. “Right now.”
Redhead’s eyes flicked across Jen’s arms and she quailed. “Umm, Trish? Maybe we shoul—”
“Can it, Becca!” Trish – Dark Hair – barked, glaring at Jen. “He looked at us wrong. So we’re gonna deal with him however the fuck we please. So back off.”
These girls were shades of Blaire, Ella, and Maggie, but way bigger. Tougher. Yet Jen didn’t even contemplate giving up for a millisecond. “I’ll give you ONE last cha—”
Trish’s sudden punch caught Jen utterly by surprise – which made it all the more shocking when Jen’s hand shot up and stopped it cold.
A collective, stunned gasp. “Jesus,” Brunette hissed, her mouth dropping open. “No one has ever—”
Trish’s other fist came at Jen like a hammer but she chopped it aside at the last instant, Trish’s knuckles sailing past her face. Her palms stung like hell, but—
Fuck! Becca joined the fray, lunging at Jen. Instead of meeting her head-on and getting overrun, a quick instinct told Jen to duck and roll backwards. Trish, suddenly unhindered, stumbled right into Becca’s path. The two bulky girls collided with a heavy thump!, careening right over Jen and into the bushes behind her.
Jen rose swiftly and turned the full force of her glare onto Brunette, who let go of Amir immediately and backed away, looking distinctly … scared.
“Whoa,” Amir blurted, overawed to the extreme – until he snapped out of it and pointed in alarm. “Behind you!”
Jen whirled to find Trish standing on her two feet, plant debris littering her shirt, her beefy muscles flexing as her glare burned like a bonfire. The old Jen would’ve fainted in a heartbeat, but the new Jen clamped her arm strongly on Amir’s bony shoulder, pulled him behind her to safety, then met Trish with a defiant, unyielding glare of her own.
“Are you crazy?” Becca hissed, tugging her friend’s sleeve. “She’ll kick your ass!”
Incredibly, Trish seemed to agree. Doubt wreathed her eyes as she considered Jen’s physique, her resolve. With hurt pride, she shot one last grouchy glare at Jen then caught up to her friends as they hustled away.
Jen breathed out, her muscles slowly relaxing, her head spinning. Did that really just happen? She looked back to find Amir staring up at her with wide, amazed eyes.
But her instincts demanded sustained vigilance. Those girls could turn back around at any time. Or maybe they have friends nearby. Or—There were plenty of reasons to get away from here ASAP. So she grabbed Amir’s hand and clipped a brusque command: “Follow me.”
