The Bikers Fierce Devotion

A savior in Shadows

Gee.

The blare of my alarm shattered my soothing rest, snatching me from a beautiful dreaming world. I muttered a weary yawn, keeping my eyes half-closed, which felt heavy from scant rest.

I wished I could curl a little longer, but immediately my eyes landed on a brink of sunlight peeping through, reality struck me.

**6:45 A.M.**

"F***k," I muttered, relinquishing myself from lamenting. I'd again missed the 5.30 A.M. alarm, and barely had little time to set out for school.

Spiraling, I ran to the bathroom, took a harsh and quick bath and hoped to prepare breakfast for mom and myself.

But there she was, flipping fluffy eggs and toasting a bun.

"Beautiful morning, Mom," I greeted, a soft smile breaking, hoping to mask my lingering panic.

"Morning, sugarplum. Guess you had a late start," she remarked, her voice firm with a hint of surprise.

"Yeah, I overprepared last night working on my upcoming classes...ended up dozing off a little late," I acknowledged, rubbing my forehead.

"I figured. Go on, finish up. Breakfast will be on the table when you're ready."

"Thanks, mumsy," I whispered, kissing her cheek before running back to my room.

Incase you haven't noticed yet, I live with my mom. She's a single parent by coincidence. My dad passed away after a short illness, and instead of giving up or remarrying, she chose to nature and raise me all by herself. I love her more than words could ever capture.

She does everything she can to provide what I need —even if it means beyond measurable means. She's my heroin, my haven.

And one day, my wish is to make her proud.

When I got to my bedroom, I peeled off my pajamas and rushed into the closet for my uniform.

By five minutes, I was done; I needed to be at the bus stop before the bus drew in.

I preferred walking to my school to avoid stress, whispers and teasing from irritating students, but today, I dared not miss science class. It was my best subject.

So I had to choose but to risk it.

I put on my usual sleeveless shirt, striped skirt, oversized grey sweater and oval glasses, more like lightshields.

I collectively combined with my messy brown hair, which was long, desperate for a stylist’s touch, but immediately it started to snarl, I welcomed it and wrapped it into a carefree bun.

Then I slide into my scuffed white Gucci shoes, took my bag and hurried to the dining table where mom was eagerly waiting, nursing a cup of coffee in her grocery apron. Mom doesn't have a 8-to-4 job. She never stepped into college, so she works at different grocery stores, any job she can get to sustain us.

"How are your lessons coming along?" She asked as I sat down.

"They're fine," I replied, biting into a slice of bread that was a Little bit.

But I couldn't complain.

"Believe me when I say I'm proud to have you. You're so intelligent. I apologize for not providing you with everything a girl of your age would be demanding.

"Mom, I interrupted, gazing strictly into her anxious, kind eyes. You’ve given me more than enough. I never complain. I'm happy," I said, lightly tapping on her back.

She gave me a gentle grateful smile.

"Here's a hundred bucks," she said, sliding the note into my hand." Grab some flour after school, will you?"

"Yes.Thanks, Mom," I replied as I tucked the note into my pocket.

Just then, the shrill blast of a school bus filled the air.

"I'm off!" I jumped on my bag."See you in the evening, Mom!"

"Bye, sugarplum. Take care."

I sprinted out of the house and, as quickly as my feet could, huffing and puffing, I boarded the bus just in time.

"Geez, Gee.Trying to slim down? Hate to tell you, but those pounds are going nowhere," scoffed Drake, and the whole bus cracked up.”

Drake Helmer.Captain of the peep squad.Blonde face.Skinny.Mischevious.Rich.And has a knack for making you feel worthless.

Why she always boarded the bus when she owned her car was beyond my thought. Maybe she enjoyed her Friends.

I brushed her off, took my secret and pulled out my science book. Reading hard was my escape. My haven. And for now, I rely on it more than ever.

We got to school, and whereas I was in a haste to get to class, I was abruptly interrupted by the gaze of none other than my crush, Lewis.

Lewis Lowell was the captain of the school basketball team. He was long in height, had marble blue eyes, and was a perfect face match for Teen Magazine. He has been my crush since our junior year, but unlucky, he has never shown interest in me, even though we have always been classmates.

I wish he would talk to me, hug me and maybe ask for a date.

"Get out of my way, fatty," Drake groaned as she bumped me and accidentally fell heavily to the floor.

It had rained heavily the previous night, so the floor was wet and muddy. As I gazed up, some students had crowded and brought out their lavish phones to take videos of me.

"Hey, comrades, look, the greasy hog has made the entrance, "Drake scorn blared through the peep leader megaphone. My eyes flicked to the specific person whose regard meant everything to me, wishing he would offer some help, but my heart sank when I watched him laughing at the innocent soul with other fools.

My heart burned with unshed pain, but I kept them in check not to appear a fool. I was ready to get up when a barreling of motorbike coincidentally filled the air.

All focus shifted to the Biker who was racing toward us at a daring pace;although we couldn't unmask his face due to the closed helmet, he seemed fierce in his lugged leather gear.

Before everyone could grasp who he was, he had splashed mud all over Drake.

She wailed loudly as water and mud splashed on her uniform, from her blonde face to her cream-peeling costume; every part of her body was covered with dirt.

And luckily, all the attention shifted to her in the blink of an eye. She felt so humiliated that she ran to the restrooms, leaving the crowd making fun of her.

Although I didn't know who the Biker was, I was thankful for his rescue from Drake expert in making me feel like garbage.

I leapt up and went to the girls' restroom to tidy up; thankfully, I got the stains out just in time

Once I apprehended that everything was alright, I ran to class, eager not to miss my class.

I had gently started preparing when Drake, who had traded her dirty uniform for a clean one, walked inside with Lewis beside her.

There have been rumors of Drake and Lewis dating, but no one was quite sure, as both had tactics of bantering with other students.

A few minutes later, Mrs Wallingford walked in, her soothing smile constantly silencing the room.

"Good morning, class."

"Good morning, Mrs Wallingford, we sang.

I have information that we have a new student joining our class today—Dever Powell will be joining us for the rest of the year. So I hope you all will guide and be nice to him.

She turned her eyes towards the closed door.

"Powell, where did you go?"

He walked in one minute like a school captain. There was something off about him. His face was the calm before a storm.

He was of medium height and remarkable with unkept brown hair and protruding blue eyes that looked surreal. He dressed in a leather jacket, leather gloves, skinny patched jeans, and a white shirt, and contoured his lean athletic body. He looked like a confused teen drama.

Without any exaggeration, I knew he was my savior, the same biker who had spattered dirt on Drake.

"Nice, seems another freak to make his crazy class crazier," reported Lewis, whose mood was threatened by Powell's strategic presence.

His awkward statement made some of us titter, and that attracted attention to Mrs.Wallingford.

"I told you students to be kind," she said gently before gazing at the new, confused student.

"Powell, take your seat," Mrs.Wallingford said.

He boldly walked to the empty seat behind Drake, one she cautioned anyone to sit on. She didn't even say a word this time. Just gazed at him like he was a close friend for a long time.

Mrs.Wallingford wrote

**Science**on the white board, then got our sheaf of papers. I knew it was from the last test.

Since I sat in front, I got mine early.

"A- again. Congratulations, Gee," she commented as she slid my paper on my desk.

"Thanks, Mrs," frankly replied, a proud smile hovering on my lips.

Being a sponsored student meant I had no room to fail—not because I worked for university sponsorship, but because I loved my books. Books were my close friend.

So I had to give it all. Every single day and night.

Mrs.Wallingford proceeded with her lesson, and I strictly paid attention, taking quick notes and asking questions. I wanted to be ahead.

Just as she was preparing to draw things to an end, she, out of the blue, said, "Gee, you'll be tutoring Powell for private and non-commissioned lessons until he catches up."

I opened my running mouth to resist, but Drake's high, devastated voice pierced through the air.

"But, Mrs.Wallingford, I can teach him! I wouldn't mind," she said in words that suggested she had other plans.

Mrs.Wallingford smelled a rat. "Yes, Drake, I'm sure of your skills, but with your low grades barely suspended to a C-, I think your little intelligence needs to be upscaled."

The class giggled. So did I,

"What's so funny, chubster?"Drake snarled, venom seeping through every syllable.

I ignored her, refusing to give a damn.

Just after class, Powell walked away without talking to me or showing any regard that I was to act as his tutor; he acted arrogantly as if he had never heard what our teacher said.

Smug much?

Moments later, the classroom had emptied of nearly everyone. I stood up, ready. Mrs.Wallingford gestured me over.

"Gee," she started, her tone dipping quieter, "be wary around Powell. He's...complicated.If he gives you a cold shoulder, don't hesitate to resign the position," I nodded gently, unsure whether to be worried or intrigued.