All Chalked Up

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Kyra Johnson is the daughter of a gang leader and a street fighter. It would make sense that she gets into fights all the time. But when a fateful fight at school has her on the run from the cops she meets a guy who lets her stay for him, as long as she does something for him. Join his band of streetfighters.

Action / Romance
5.0 2 reviews
Age Rating:

I Can Do This All Day

Kyra’s fist collided with Tate Laughner’s cheek, hard.

His head snapped backward and he stumbled against the brick wall, sides heaving.

The blonde girl paced back and forth, her calloused knuckles throbbing slightly.

Her blue eyes were blazing like the hottest flames.

“It’s that the best you got, Laughner? Or would you like to insult my sis again?”

“Kyra, please I don’t need you to-”

The girl’s head snapped towards a tall brunette with wide brown eyes.

“Taylor, be quiet. I’m not letting this bloody piece of trash f*ck my sister than spread rubbish about her.”

Taylor lowered her eyes, backing away into the crowd that was watching the whole scene play out.

Tate pushed off the wall, his fist coming for Kyra.

She ducked out of the way, moving quickly.

Her foot snaked out and tripped the handsome Junior.

Her heel dug into the small of his back.

“Give up yet, Laughner?”

“Never.” He panted, eyes boring into hers.

“Your mistake,” she said with a menacing half smile.

“I can do this all day.”

She spun, her foot colliding with his side.

He fell to the ground yet again, groaning in pain.

“Give up.” Kyra snarled.

“Okay, okay.” Tate wheezed, pushing himself to his knees, kneeled in front of Krya, blood dripping from his cheek.

His eyes were lowered and head dipped in defeat.

Kyra spat, pushing through the crowd and grabbing Taylor’s hand, pulling her away from the schoolyard.

“We’re going home, Taylor.”

“But Kyra—”

“Shut up. Why did you listen to me? I told you to stay away from Laughner! You could have gotten hurt, you bloody idiot! He could have hurt you!”

Taylor dipped her head submissively at her sister’s words.

“I’m sorry, Kyra. He was paying me and we’ve been short on money since they arrested Dad..,”

Kyra slumped, loosing her grip on Taylor’s wrist.

“Oh Tay...”

If Kyra had been the hugging type she would have pulled Taylor into her arms and never let her go.

But she wasn’t the hugging type.

“Taylor, hon, that’s not the way to go. You need to leave money to me, okay? I’m the older one.”


“No. Don’t argue with me. When we get home go take a shower, you’re filthy.”

Taylor sighed. “Yes Kyra.”


Kyra ran her hand through her dirty hair, peeling off her sweaty jumper, and then the shirt underneath it.

She ran a cracked and calloused hand over her sore abs, taking a deep breath.

Mum was out, no doubt at another one of her matches or attending to some of dad’s business while he was behind bars.

Sometimes Kyra wished it had been different, wished she had gotten a choice about her life.

Wish someone had asked her if she wanted to be the daughter of a drug kingpin/gang leader and a street fighter.

But other times...

Kyra pulled on a pair of spandex shorts, and bound her knuckles in protective tape.

She headed down to the basement, throwing open the door at letting it bang against the wall.

She pulled her blonde hair back into a ponytail and shoved her hands into the bucket of chalk, coughing as it tickled her nose.

The battered punching bag hung from the ceiling on a thick chain.

With a loud roar Kyra’s fist collided with the bag. It swayed on the chain, barely.

She growled, her blows falling like fire.

The bag swung.

She kept punching.

Her biceps burned and the tape was doing little to protect her knuckles.

Her core was engaged, her legs were placed like stone pillars.

“Life-” *punch* “Is-” *punch* “A-” *punch* “Bloody-” *punch* “BITCHH!”

Kyra stepped back, sides heaving.

Sweat dripped into her eyes, stinging them.

She hissed in pain as she peeled off the tape, revealing her bloodied knuckles.



Kyra turned on the cold shower, letting the water run over her tired and burning muscles.

The blood and filth of the day washed off, draining her anger.

She pulled a towel off a nearby hook and dried herself off, than pulled on a worn pair of sweatpants and a baggy band t-shirt.

She tiredly walked into the kitchen and popped a freezer pizza into the oven.

Taylor would be hungry.

“Where are you, mum?” Kyra muttered to herself, looking out the window.

The city’s lights twinkled softly as she scowled.

Sirens sounded in the distance.

Bloody bobbies, she thought scornfully.

Taylor came slowly downstairs.

Her eyes were wide with fear.


“Not now, Tay!”

“Kyra you really need to see this!” Taylor screeched, shoving her phone in her sister’s face.

“No.” Kyra breathed.

Tell your wanker of a sister she’s going to juvie. Dad called the peelers. Can you hear the sirens?

Taylor gripped her older sister’s arm. “What are you going to do, Ky?”

“I have to go, Tay. I have to go now. Don’t let the pizza burn.”

She gave Taylor a quick kiss on the forehead than ran up to her room, throwing her two pairs of clothes, loaded pistol, and knife into a raggedy black rucksack.

As a last minute thought she tossed a apple in the bag and ran for the back door of the apartment.

“Wait! Kyra!”

Kyra turned to face Taylor.

Her sister was standing there, a thin leather wallet squeezed in her hand.

“The money... from Tate.”

Kyra softnened and she pulled her little sister to her chest, pushing the wallet towards her.

“Keep it, Taylor. You’ll need it more than me. Now go get your pizza.”

And with that she flung open the door and ran out into the cold, jumping on her father’s motercycle and rocketing away into the city night, away from the sound of sirens.

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