For the past few hours, Turner had been looking through several letters, pamphlets, and brochures he had requested from the Academy of Technology and Self-Defense, the finest and most expensive private school in the city. ATSD specialized in combining combat skills with student-made technology. The perfect fit for David, Turner thought.
According to the information sent to him, there were three ways a student could get into the school. The first option: the parents could flat out pay the balance of tuition at the start of the academic year. But at one hundred, seventy-five thousand dollars a semester, that wasn’t going to happen. The second option: the prospective student could gain a scholarship through exceptional academic transcripts from prior learning institutions. Of course, David’s grades were too low for that. The third option was more promising, but was also the most challenging. Students could gain entrance to ATSD with a combat scholarship by taking part in an exhibition match with one of the school’s best students.
“So what happened?” David asked, knowing that Turner had scheduled a phone appointment with the principal of ATSD earlier in the day. “What’d they say?”
“I got chu an exhibition match dis Friday,” Turner replied. “But dere’s a catch.”
“There always is.”
“You gotta bring yo own devices to compete wid,” Turner continued. “See when the students at the school make their weapons, they use ATSD equipment. State of the art. Top of the line. You ain’t allowed ta use that stuff.”
“That’s fine,” David said, walking pass him toward his room. Quite honestly, David Johnson didn’t care about school. He didn’t care about ATSD or devices or scholarships or any of it. He simply saw it as an opportunity to fight, another chance to release all the anguish in his soul by blasting into someone else’s chin with his knuckles. The only difference this time is that he wouldn’t get suspended for it.