The Only Way Read Online Free PDF

here had real jobs with steady pay checks, and she felt like she could see the difference in their eyes. There was no evidence of the fear that haunted the Gutterfolk, fear that the next meal wasn't coming.
    She squared her shoulders and marched up to the fight organizer. He already had a few men picked out – boys, really, not much older than her, but bigger, of course. He was small-time; Hart could tell that immediately. The real fighters had gone with other organizers, and he had what was left over, including Hart.
    "All right boys," he said. "I'm Farris, but you can call me Mr. Farris."
    Hart felt her lips curl back in distaste, but she bit down on the retort that threatened to push past her lips. There was no way she was calling scum like him 'mister'.
    They set off through the Alley, the sight of tidy houses and clean streets enough to distract Hart from what was coming. It was strange to see these homes with glass windows and solid doors. Houses three times the size of the shack she had her family lived in. She couldn't imagine what that was like.
    The group turned a few corners, weaving their way through the streets. None of the men spoke as they walked. Eyes ahead, not on each other. Eyes on the prize , Hart thought miserably. She wondered which of them she'd be fighting.
    These men were just like her, neighbors and fellow sufferers, but soon they'd be beating each other to a bloody pulp.
    Farris led them to a run-down building, off the main drag, and Hart's heart sank. There wouldn't be good money in this even if she did win, she could tell. Not with the graffiti covering the outside of the building or the rickety sign that proclaimed "Nightly Fights – Three Dollar Admission".
    Farris unlocked a back door and ushered the Gutter men inside. The room was dark and dingy. "Alright, everyone. Three fights tonight. You and you," he gestured at the two biggest men in the group. "You'll headline. Purse of twenty dollars if you win."
    "You two," he pointed to two others, "You'll be the second fight. Purse of fifteen. Winner can headline tomorrow night." The men nodded. Hart looked at the only other person left, a boy of eighteen or nineteen. He was taller and broader than her by far, but looked anxious and unsure. Maybe it was his first fight, too.
    "You two," Farris levelled a meaty finger at Hart and her companion. "Will be our opening act. Purse is ten dollars."
    It was more than she made on the scrapheap, but it felt like nothing when she thought about how much she'd have to endure to possibly win it.
    "You fight in your own clothes here. Strip down to whatever you want, but know that we don't discourage grabbing shirts, or hair for that matter." Farris smirked.
    The men peeled off their shirts, stripping down to skin, and Hart shifted uncomfortably. She wanted to fight in the sweatshirt, to completely ensure that no one would guess at her secret. But the hood was a liability, not to mention the strings at her neck. She could be grabbed, dragged, or choked, so she pulled it off and hoped no one looked too closely at what lay under the black t-shirt she wore.
    "Here." Hart looked up at her opponent, surprised. He was holding something out to her, his blue eyes emotionless. "Tape. For your hands."
    "Oh," Hart flushed, taking the roll from him. "Thanks."
    The boy shrugged and turned away. It was for the best, really. Looking him in the eyes made it harder to want to hit him. 
    She taped her hands awkwardly, struggling to do it by herself. None of the men here were going to help her, though, the way her father had always gently wound the tape around her palms.
    Farris had stepped out of the room, but now he returned, poking his head around the doorframe. Hart could hear a rising murmur from somewhere else in the building—the crowd, here to see her fight.
    "Five minutes," Farris barked, and Hart and her opponent stepped forward. "You got names, kids?"
    "Hart," she said without thinking, and then blushed, ducking her