My name is Sherry Cole, nicknamed 'Share,' but often people will call me 'Cherry' or 'Share Bear.' Either one of those two will get your ass kicked by me. I don't fight unless I am provoked. Which is quite easily to do at times.

My attitude towards life is not the most usual for one my age, or for anyone really. I just want to get this life done and over with. I don't care about love, family, or anything else like that. I've never done drugs, smoked, had sex, or even have a tiny drop of liquor, find me "average"?

In many ways I would be the perfect girl to bring home to 'mommy.' In many ways 'mommy' would give you reasons not to hang out with me. I have tattoos, piercing's, black and blue hair, and I drive a motorcycle. Well technically I'm not supposed to be driving it. I'm only fifteen you see, so it's just a bit illegal.

My parents and I have never gotten along for as long as I can remember. We are always fighting constantly and I am always reminded of my sister running away and my brother getting caught with drugs. I'm going to go see him this weekend at the penitentiary by the way.

I am marked with bad blood, or so I'm told. The neighbor ladies gossip about me. They say I'm a good girl trapped in a bad body with bad blood. They used to bother me, but now I could care less. I live my life to please myself, and I don't care if anyone approves of it or not, as long as I'm happy it's ok.

In no way am I normal like most of the other girls my age. I don't wear make-up, I refuse to wear any skirts or shorts, and I absolutely despise sandals and heels. I like my tees, jeans, sneakers and combat boots, thankyouverymuch.

I never allow anyone to touch me. I don't give hugs and I don't receive them. If you want to be my friend, well, basically you just stay away from me.

I never thought much about guys. I heard about my sister getting raped before and after she ranaway. And I was molested by one of my male babysitters when I was a mere child. After those incidents I decided that having a male of any kind around always made me on my guard and defensive, so I try not to get too close to any guys, and I don't allow them close to me.

Thinking of males like that had put me in an awkward position. I met three guys who couldn't be anymore un-like those thoughts of mine, but I didn't know how to deal with them...

"Share? Share, where are you?"

I hear you mother. But I'm not listening. Sherry hummed in her head as she continued to walk down the walkway to her motorcycle.

The sounds of broken glass were always her favorite sounds. But hearing the sounds of beer bottles being thrown and hurled against the wall to get her attention was getting quite old and annoying these days.

Sitting on her bike, Sherry reached for her helmet. When she grabbed it and started to pull it on, she looked over and saw two of the old neighbor ladies leaning towards each other and whispering furiously. Sherry waved at them before the helmet was thrust down upon her head.

Turning the key she kickstarted her bike and then revved up the engine before squealing her back tire and popping it into a wheelie before going around the corner and out into the traffic of the late evening.

Sherry parked her bike at the park where she was greeted by a roar from one of her friends' truck. She simply nodded her head in their direction and sat down on top of one of the benches occupied by the rest of her friends.

"What happened today?" Asked a short lanky boy.

His grin was wry and almost charming in a rugged sort of way. Sherry recognized him as the kid they called 'Curtis.'

Shrugging, Sherry decided to answer the best way she knew how. With a smart-ass reply. "Ever hear the song 'Ninety-Nine Bottles Of Beer On The Wall?' " She questioned warily. When the boy nodded, she continued on with her reply, "Well, all ninety-nine of them are laying smashed and broken up against my bedroom door."

The entire group laughed at her wit, and she lifted the corner of her mouth in a tiny wry half-smile.

As the time continued on she saw a new comer to their group. "Hey, I know you!" Sherry shouted jumping up, so that she was standing on top of the bench.

The girl looked around her, making sure it was she that Sherry was talking to. "From where?" She challenged. She was sick of how everyone crowded around 'Sherry.'

Sherry gave her a once over. "Yeah, yeah. I remember you. You were the one at that school dance a few weeks back." She said nodding her head at the recognition.

The girl raised her shoulder half a centimeter before dropping it. "Prove it."

"You were wearing some green colored dress." Sherry stated as she continued to eye the girl before her that everyone had now circled around. "I told you to leave the party 'cause you were hitting on my friend's boyfriend."

"I was probably hitting on him harder than you think. But don't worry, we never went far as to having sex twice." She said smiling proudly at one of her conquests.

Enraged, Sherry stepped down until her feet were firmly planted on the ground beneath her. "What is your name?" She questioned, her eyes squinting at the figure.

"Trish." The girl replied. A smirk working it's way onto her lips. "And you are the infamous Share-Bear." She stated dryly, "I've heard a lot about you."

Sherry took one step towards her. "Let's go." She said calmly as she held her left wrist up.

Trish nodded as she smacked her right wrist against Sherry's left. Instantly the crowd tightened noticeably around them. Chanting and taunting softly as the two girls sprung into action.

Having been in this 'ring of fire' as the called it, many of times, Sherry knew what to expect. She doubted that Trish did though.

Trish's first punch hit air, along with the kick following it. When her second punch was coming Sherry kicked her feet out from under her. Trish had retaliated by tripping Sherry and making her land hard on her stomach on the ground. Feeling a small snap in her ankle, Sherry figured it popped.

A low groan irrupted from Sherry's parted lips but she kicked Trish once in the face to release her legs from the girl's grasp. Once she freed them she was standing again. She watched as Trish got on all fours before she delivered a kick to her mid-section. Knocking the wind out of her and back onto the ground and causing another pop and an almost unbearable pain to shoot through out her ankle and up her leg.

When she didn't move Sherry thought that she had won. All too soon for her because she needed to release more anger, but she wouldn't fight someone who couldn't defend themselves properly.

She turned to face her friends, leaning onto her good ankle, when someone screamed and pointed behind her. She saw the flash of metal from the gleaming blade in Trish's hand. Sherry was briefly concerned for a second before she grabbed at Trish's hand, but not without getting successfully sliced, in her own stomach.

Wrenching away the now bloodied knife, Sherry stood before Trish. The blade still gleamed with the promise of danger. "You don't know how to fight fair, Trish." Sherry mocked her as she held her burning side and leaned to the left. "Someday I hope someone teaches you how to play it fair." She muttered before she dropped the knife, blade first into the ground, challenging someone to pick it up.

She started to stumble/hop away and landed on the seat of her bike. Her friends left her and Trish was basically told not to show around the park again.

Sherry sat and watched the sun setting over the river and trees intently, letting everyone leave. It was beautiful to her, and not many things were. She was about to try to start her motorcycle with the kick-starter but once she put the slightest amount of pressure on her ankle she cried out in the agony that washed over her.

Quickly she covered her mouth with her left hand and bit down hard. She had to use her ankle to kick-start her motorcycle, or she was never going to make it home.

Again she tried it, and again she cried out. This time, though someone heard her. Actually three someone's.

"Hey, something wrong?" The tallest on had asked unsurely as he looked her over.

Sherry tossed him an annoyed glance. "No, I always scream out in pain for no reason." She snapped.

"Holy shit, you're bleeding!" One of the three shouted at her. She figured it was the second tallest one because he was the one pointing to her side.

"You were the one that just fought, huh?" The youngest one asked curiously.

Looking at them Sherry grunted her reply. "Yes, I fought, and yes, I am bleeding!" She shouted in her obvious frustration.

"Okay, okay. No need to be so touchy." The middle one replied.

Sherry looked the tallest one over as he obviously did the same to her again. "Did I pass your inspection?" She growled harshly.

"Look, do you want help, or not?" He asked glaring at her.

"I don't exactly want it, but I do need it." She responded. "You." She said pointing to the youngest one. "Go get that blade out of the ground over there." She nodded her head towards the knife still sticking out of the ground.

Immediately it was retrieved for her.

Lighting her zippo lighter she burned the blade until she believed it was disinfected. She glanced down at her right black motorcycle boot. "I really loved these boots too." She muttered before she leaned down towards it.

The middle boy looked at her questioningly. "What are you doing?" He asked loudly.

Ignoring him, Sherry sliced the side of her boot open. Carefully she had the oldest one remove it from her foot slowly. Her once white sock was now red, soaked with her blood. She turned to the youngest one, "You don't get sick by the sight of blood do you?" She questioned.

He shook his head 'no.'

"All right then." Sherry said unconvinced that he wasn't. She removed her sock gently and looked down at her ankle. It was worse than that pop that she had heard. Her whole ankle bone was jutting out through her skin.

"Ew, that's bad." She muttered wrinkling her nose.

The three guys stared at her. Instantly picking her up and taking them to their car. "Where are you taking me?" She grounded out angrily as she tried not to move her ankle or side.

"The hospital. Duh!" The youngest shouted as he sat beside her. "Don't worry, we'll come back for your bike."

"You better." Sherry replied stubbornly as she folded her arms in front of her.

"You know most people would be in hysterics and crying right now." The middle one stated as he turned around in his seat to look at her. "Or at least passed out."

"So?" She asked frostily.

"What makes you so different?" The oldest asked, catching her gaze in the rearview mirror.

Sherry sniffed the air once. "Tears never fall from my eyes, smiles never appear on my face, and laughter never bubbles up inside me. I'm not your ordinary girl, guys. I fight and I fight to win." She replied. "Anything else?"

The coldness in her voice made the guys stop asking her questions.

She relished in the solitude that she had created.

Names were not given, but once Sherry was dropped off at the free clinic, she was rushed in to be taken care. When she was released the next day, and she saw her bike out front. Along with her helmet and a new boot for her right foot.

Reaching for the boot she saw note stuffed inside. She unfolded the crumbled paper and read.

'Tears never fall down her thin cheeks,
I doubt she has even smiled in weeks
Laughter never bubbles up within
But when she fights, she fights to win
She's not your average, normal girl
I don't think she belongs in this world
She holds her head up high,
with pride
No, she definitely is not like anyone else
She is her own self

Fight Hard

Isaac
Taylor
Zac
Hanson

Sherry read it over once again. Asking herself about the name. Nothing registered so she shrugged it off and stuck the key into the ignition on her bike. This time she stood on the side of her bike and used her left foot to use the kickstarter.

"Now why didn't I do that yesterday?" She questioned as she climbed on. Grabbing for her helmet she saw the three guys across the street that had helped her out yesterday.

She nodded her head in their direction and they simply nodded back and then got in their car and drove off.

Sherry tried to read the license plate carefully. All that she could make out was that it was 'Oklahoma' plates.

"Ahh, I bet they live in Oklahoma City." She muttered as she slammed the helmet down on her head.

"No one lives here in Tulsa. Besides those MMMBop freaks." She stated angrily as she revved up the engine and pealed out of the clinic's parking lot.