by L. B. Carter
Rena glanced at the clock. It was indeed dinner time. She’d slept through the whole afternoon. She nodded at Kayna. Yes, please, she confirmed on the paper.
“That’s within my capabilities. In the meantime, maybe you want to put some fresh pjs on or something? That always makes me feel better. And I can throw those in the wash while we’re watching a movie.”
It was embarrassing if her friend through thick and thin was suggesting she change. I’ll go shower while you cook. Thank you!
“Sure thing. But remember: an order of fries and strawberry shake, on you next week.”
Done, Rena wrote and smiled, something she hadn’t done in days, then mentally added brush teeth to her imminent plans when Kayna’s nose scrunched up a little.
“And hurry up,” her friend called, while Rena slinked upstairs and sequestered her disgusting body in the bathroom. “I gotta tell you about the surprise gymnastic skills Nor showed at the pep rally you missed today!”
Rena slowed on the stairs. A snap to the wrist kept her running the last few steps to the bathroom. If she let Kayna back in her life, it seemed it was going to be hard to keep everyone else out. She continued to think about that dilemma in the shower as she shampooed her hair—twice—until the smell of mangoes overpowered the odor of sweat and grease. Maybe she could say They told her not to interact with guys after what happened with JT? That could work.
Rena didn’t like lies; with a blank past, she’d had to trust so many people. Alternatively, if she was going to at least partly stick to her Life of Solitude, she’d have to go a little against her morals: be cold toward Nor and Liam at school and lie horribly to her best friend. A perfect start to a perfect plan that would keep everyone... happy?
◆◆◆
Her opponent scrutinized Rena through narrowed lids as they circled each other, looking for her weaknesses, just as she was doing to him. Since he was looking at her down his nose—slightly crooked from a wayward punch in a previous fight, she supposed—it was glaringly apparent she had a bigger—at least a foot bigger—disadvantage.
“Use your size to your advantage.” Although muffled by the head protection, this time Coach’s reminder was aloud instead of in her head. He looked on calmly from his barefoot, arms-crossed statue-like position near the mirrors beside their mat.
Since she’d already been thinking along the same lines, she started to strategize. She took a moment to defy another of his tips—Never break eye contact—to gauge the guy’s leg length and determine if he favored any particular stance, as he bobbed on the balls of his feet. Of course that left her obviously vulnerable, so when she felt the hook impact with her shoulder shoving her roughly to the side, she didn’t fall, rather stumbled slightly before regaining a stable base; anticipate their next move and prepare for the worst. A malicious grin that showed his red mouth guard. Her usual opponent never gave her malicious looks. Bags of sand or pads on Coach’s hands didn’t have faces.
Kayna’s evening of giggles and silly movies had revamped Rena’s motivation to not surrender her entire life. Getting better at protecting herself would mean better protecting others from herself. Things with JT wouldn’t have escalated to the point they did if she’d been able to fight him off. She’d physically run to the studio first thing the next morning and asked to try a real fight. Of course she got the guy with a hundred pounds on her in pure muscle as her first opponent.
She blocked a roundhouse kick with her glove. The shock of the strike ran up her arm and she took a step back. Watching other spars and listening to advice wasn’t the same as using defensive maneuvers first-hand. He made a bring it hand gesture. Rena dropped, sliding between the man’s widely spaced legs, to pop up behind him. She kicked behind her into the back of his knee, forcing him to kneel—Get them to your level—and then spun and used an elbow jab to his shoulder to get him the rest of the way down. Except he didn’t. Barnacles. He rested on one knee and his fists. She gulped the excess saliva her mouth guard created as he slowly stood and turned to face her, no longer amused. Well, there went her one plan.
“Why didn’t that work? Think about what was missing,” Coach suggested from the sidelines. Rena tried not to notice she was the only one getting comments out of the pair of them, let alone out of the other five or so couples sparring around the room.
It didn’t work because Coach gave Rena a freaking giant to fight.
Said giant bounced from foot to foot in place, baiting her, waiting for her to make a move. She huffed a breath through her nose. Okay, really it hadn’t worked because she hadn’t used his strengths—which happened to be his literal strength—against him. Time to let him show off the skills he so desperately wanted to. Rena hopped a few times, getting back into the rhythm, letting her first failure slide off her, like the sweat trickling down her back. She could do this. She waited patiently. One brow rose, goading him, and his drew down in a frustrated response. She mimicked his earlier hand gesture.
He was angry now. He actually growled before snapping out a hook aimed at her ear. She crouched slightly, just sliding under it. He tried a jab that she sidestepped. Small person meant small target. He tried another punch. As she danced out of the way again, he brought his leg up in a kick to her side that winded her. Trying to get air into her emptied lungs she stepped back, evading his next swing.
Without warning, he lunged, wrapping her body in his massive one and bringing them both to the floor, like a wrestler. His body caged hers, and as soon as she struggled, more of his bodyweight pressed down on her. Rena was still out of breath. He was straddling her. His eyes peered through the gap between her gloves, wide and intent on her. Her eyes widened back.
All the emotions she’d felt last Saturday came flooding back, panic slithering through her veins. Her brain frizzled out, her head tipping upward of its own accord.
Just like that night, he was yanked off her.
The ceiling lights glared down on her and Rena squeezed her lids shut. Her gloves thumped heavily to the mat. A faint wheeze slid into her lungs and she took a second shallow breath, then another, taking in more and more with each inhale.
“Sirena.” Coach’s voice was close, firm and sharp enough to make her take notice. “Are you all right?”
She sat up slowly, nodding, as disappointment crashed through her heart. The nearly identical event was speared through her determination and smashed her hope.
Coach turned back to the man and began to speak to him in a harsh voice using low, unforgiving tones. Rena’s mind continued to bounce around faster than she had on the mat watching Coach help the colossus over to a folding chair against the wall, which creaked under his weight.
“Okay everyone, let’s take a break. Grab some water and then do some drills. Fifty hooks, uppercuts and alternating roundhouse kicks with your partners. Count aloud. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he called as he traversed the room.
Rena had forgotten about the other students. She turned her head and caught all eyes on her. Clearly the dramatic conclusion to her fight had paused everyone else’s. Super.
Coach sunk to a crouch in front of her. “Are you sure you’re all right?” She nodded. “Okay, well I think that’s enough for... a while. That was unacceptable behavior from Lenny and he will be on probation until he can prove to me he’ll fight by the rules.” He eyed her. “That said, perhaps we jumped in before you were ready. We’ll go back to the bag at your next practice.” Great, her first and evidently only spar was a complete failure. “Why don’t you go change,” he encouraged softly, offering a palm out to help her up. She kept her gloves on, leaving him to awkwardly grab her fist to pull her up.
She was grateful to hear numbers being called from behind her, meaning at least the others were distracted again. Rena shuffled off the mat and headed toward the changing room pulling off her gloves and helmet.
When she came back out of the changing room, she headed straight for the front doors, ready to get out of there. So much for empowering her
self and burning off the angst with some physical exercise. Now she was back to glum and even more stressed.
“Hey, Guppy.” Rena’s head snapped up. Grandpa stood next to Coach by the front desk.
“I know you usually walk but thought it best that you get picked up today,” Coach explained. “I told him what happened. I want to apologize to you again that something like that happened at my studio.” She should be apologizing to him. “Please feel welcome to come back when you’re ready, but your Grandpa and I agreed, among other things, it might be best to take a few days off.”
She was banned on the first day she dropped her hermit status? Message received. She nodded, like a good little girl, because below her frustration a drop of fear still lingered, both for herself and those she came into contact with.
Is Lenny all right? she signed painstakingly slowly. Coach had taught her a few important words in sign language so that he could be aware of any injuries. She had to spell out the ones she didn’t know. It had been a little embarrassing when she met his son at the end of one of her practices and he’d been fluent and speedy chatting back to her with his hands flying fast.
Coach uncrossed his arms to wave her question off. “He’s fine, he’s fine. I told him to give you space, so he told me to pass along his apology.”
No need, she spelled out.
“Ready to go, Guppy?” Grandpa held out his hand to take her bag, but she kept it over her shoulder, knowing his frailty was more of a concern than offending his chivalrous kindness.
She signed a thank-you to Coach and vanished outside, throwing herself in the car with Grandpa trailing behind her.
“Paul assured me you were okay. I still want to hear it from you myself. You’re not injured?”
She buckled in and shook her head.
He frowned. “And how are you otherwise?”
She shot him a look.
“I have to ask. You’ve had a rough week.”
No kidding.
“What were you doing sparing anyway?”
She just stared out the windshield.
“I’m not sure that was a smart idea with what happened last week, Guppy,” he said gently as he started the car and pulled out of the lot.
Obviously. In retrospect, that was glaringly clear.
He sighed. “When we get home, I’m going to call and make you an appointment with Dr. Spelmann. Coach and I agreed that’s best.”
What? Heck, no. They were going to make a huge deal out of this and they would probably come up with some more terrible-sounding medical terms to explain it all, to add to her list, like her identity needed to be made up of maladies. They didn’t know about the Death Kiss thing. They didn’t know that the answer wasn’t talking it out, or boxing, or pills. It was staying away from everyone. Rena’s fingers wrapped around her necklace as her intentions wrapped themselves around her, like a warm hug. The imagery was ironic; the illusion would be the only touch she’d ever get.
“I know you’re not handling what happened well. You’ve been claiming to be sick the last few days.” Her head snapped over. Caught. Grandpa’s mouth pursed, pushing his mustache forward like a cat’s whiskers. “I’m sorry, Guppy. I think you need to go back. It’s okay to need help. Your boxing is clearly not the answer anymore.”
She agreed. At least boxing with other humans was out. That didn’t mean They had anything useful to offer. It was going to be an hour of her life wasted. Sure, lock her in a room with another dude and see if that opened her up after the last two she’d been intimate with.
“You need to tell me when you’re having a tough time, okay?” Yeah, sure. She snorted aloud. “None of that, missy. I’m just looking out for you. That’s what family does. I’m not going to think any less of you. It was an exceedingly traumatic thing you went through. I’d be more worried if you didn’t need help to cope after that. I’ll call and see if they can fit you in on Monday.”
Monday? She had no problem missing more school, but Grandpa would have to take time off work to drive her.
He glanced over as he made a turn and saw her concern. “It’s fine. I’ll get Dave to cover. I want to be there for my granddaughter.”
As frustrating as this all was, that last word warmed Rena, melting the cold despair that was crystallizing around it. Even if she was a freak, between family and friends who refused to let her sink into herself, perhaps she could find a way to survive.
Grandpa lifted his hand from the stick shift and it hovered over her thigh for a moment, as though he was thinking about giving her a pat. He returned it to downshift for a turn.
Survive, maybe, but was it really living if she couldn’t touch anyone?
Chapter Ten
Nor stared into the open chest of a helpless pig fetus oozing the noxious odor of formaldehyde, thankfully mingling with no other scents as it had been ‘drained of all fluids’ Mr. Sanderson assured them, and wondered what the point of it all was. Not the lab, the objective of which was written on the board and being barked at the more wary, squeamish students as Mr. Sanderson wandered between tables, observing. Nor was existentially speculating about humans and their way of life.
What was the point of his being able to identify the shape and location of a heart in a farm animal? He looked around at the pristine-clothed students encased in heavy white lab coats not to tarnish their spotless perfection with something as grotesque as innards. None would become farmers. Perhaps one or two in the entire school would become veterinarians, though he presumed they’d specialize in pampered Shih Tzus and hairless cats. Those few outliers didn’t matter, even; they would get focused learning in their many years of dedicated schooling to come.
Nor looked down again, swallowing at the sight of the little, ajar mouth, the tiny unmoving hooves. His mother would be in tears over the unnecessary death of this little guy, and she’d seen enough animal carcasses to rival a butcher. She never became jaded. She always made a point to acknowledge and pay homage to the loss. Nor blinked his own misted vision and swallowed hard. Even avoiding the argument of whether a fetus was yet ‘life’ or still ‘pre-life’, it was a waste. There were at least ten in this class alone, being prodded by pairs of teenagers. The extravagance, the complete ungratefulness, the disregard of anthropogenic impact on the world around them, in which most humans luxuriated, was dispiriting. They needed to be appreciative of what nature offered, both biological and geological, and respect it; they should give back when they took, and only take the essential.
The disregard for these morals was why Nor’s family had a job, though he’d very much prefer if that were not the case. Mother had tried to peaceably bring attention to the disasters that followed greed. When the hippy style went out, so did those who would listen, who would make changes to their lifestyles. Some had seemed to return. Contrarily, for the most part, it was a guise for yuppies fixated on health to vouch for various diet trends.
“We can’t change their minds for them, nor are we allowed to be the ones to judge what brings them joy or what they hold sacred in their hearts,” Mother had told Nor once, when he’d gotten in a fight with another scientist’s children who’d been ruthlessly dumping various chemicals they’d found into the stream out back just to watch the pretty colors swirl in the current. “We can only offer suggestions and try to preserve, protect and repair what we can of the innocent Earth.”
Those words had incidentally been the motto of the business. It had been Father who had taken a more forceful route, a year after the first sign of a threat had reached a tendril toward his wife. A military background gave him the strength to preserve and protect her passion. It had spread quickly to colleagues.
“How’s it going over here? Have you identified the heart?” Mr. Sanderson came up beside them, hands clasped behind his back.
“Yes sir, right here.” Nor’s partner for the day, thanks to Sirena’s absence, was Stew. He pointed with the eraser end of his pencil, then used it to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
>
Nor didn’t question Sirena’s disappearance into hiding after the melodrama of the clay incident; he wasn’t allowing himself to.
“Excellent. And did you—?”
“Identify the ventricles? Already done. We’ve sketched them here. I went ahead and labeled their various functions, as well.”
Mr. Sanderson peered over their shoulders to see the paper, an appeased smile and gleam lighting his previously dead eyes.
Though Stew had used the plural, Nor had done very little in the lab. It wasn’t that he didn’t know the parts and purposes of a mammal’s organs. His mother would have something to say about that, given that she’d home-schooled both him and Reed without the need for an extraneous physical example, though there were plenty of ill-fated corpses that found their final resting place in her colleague’s lab due to natural causes, notably. Nor had studied hard, with the intention to take over her work when he grew old enough. He hadn’t had the chance.
It wasn’t the boredom from being unchallenged due to that prior knowledge, either. His disinterest in contributing stemmed from his preoccupation on the sickening way public schools were taught.
“Well done, Mr Lin. Carry on.”
Stew looked up at Nor. “Do you want to do the next part?”
Though it was probably the last thing he wanted to do, they were a team. “Sure, what’s next?”
“We have to remove the heart.” How fitting. “Then we can look at the ribcage.”
Nor closed his eyes for a moment. It felt almost like he was about to remove his own heart and join the unfeeling top-of-the-food-chainers around him, lusting after a high grade. Sorry, little piggy. Nor opened his eyes and tried to see a task before him instead of an extinguished life, adopting his father’s colder get-it-done-with-no-personal-input attitude.
He took the scalpel and removed the crucial organ. “Okay, Where should I put it?” He hadn’t paid attention to where Stew had put the other parts.