Ghosting didn't seem to depend on the material. The wall felt the same as a sink of water which felt the same as the tile and glass. If I didn't stick my hand in something solid or liquid my hand felt normal when ghosting. My ghost fingers could even feel each other. The craziest part was that when I snapped my fingers it made a sound. How was that possible?
After a couple hours of practice, I was done for the night. I laid down on my bed, thinking I would read, and woke up ten hours later. I grabbed a shower and headed downstairs for breakfast. Dad zipped through the kitchen on the way to work, and Mom left a few minutes later for the doctor’s office where she worked as a physician’s assistant. Janey stayed in bed.
I went back up to my room to try out my telly talent. It proved way harder than ghosting, and it got harder if the object was further away or heavier. My big accomplishment was lifting one end of a sock an inch off the floor from about five feet away.
Kinneying was next on my list. It was different than ghosting. I couldn’t speed up part of me. It was all or nothing. And it didn’t feel like I was faster. Instead, it felt like the whole world slowed down. I also found that the more of me I moved when sped up, the more tiring it was.
After messing around with it for a little, I decided to try juggling three baseballs. I figured if I moved fast enough I should be able to keep three balls in the air. Because kinneying made it seem like the whole world had slowed down, I guess I lost track of how fast I was moving. When I tossed a baseball up in the air, I actually threw it super hard and ended up with a dent in my ceiling. Not good. And I was worn out.
I worked at it for a while longer, then took a rest before going down to eat lunch. After eating a few slices of leftover pizza, I went back to my room to practice more. Janey burst into the room just as I was closing the door.
“What are you doing in here?” She looked around the room, her eyebrows pulled together. “I know something’s up.”
I stepped in front of her and walked toward her, maneuvering her backwards out of the room. “Nothing. Now get out. You want me barging into your room?”
She gave me a hard look. “I’m not stupid. I know something’s up.”
“Whatever. Out!”
“I’m going to figure it out.” Her eyes narrowed to hard slits as she spoke. “And by the way, thanks again for trying to stop me from doing the martial arts training. What’s your problem? Why can’t you look out for your sister like a normal brother?”
“It’s nothing personal. I just didn’t want you tagging along with my friends.”
“Drop the act, Joss,” Janey said. “You’re just selfish. Well, I’m not going to get even. I’m not like you. I look out for family.”
“Okay, this conversation is over.” I stepped forward, pushing her out of my room and closing the door. “Goodbye.”
After another hour of practicing ghosting and kinneying, I was worn out. Mom and Dad got home a little later and we ate dinner together before watching an episode of our favorite family show, LOL Videos.
Afterwards, I had thought I would practice shifting, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I needed to know more about it. What would happen if I actually transformed myself into an animal of some sort and then got too tired? Would I immediately transform back to normal, or could I get stuck? Did the change consume energy, or was the whole time you were transformed tiring? Did the size and weight of the animal matter? Could you change into a toaster?
Those questions led to the “Big Picture” questions I struggled with. How did the Sevens come to be? What would happen to me? What would my parents think if they found out I knew? Why hadn’t they told me about any of this? What did they have against the Guild? What was the point?
I had no answers. I did know one thing. I was a Seven. Any doubt about weird magical abilities sort of disappeared once you stuck your hand through a wall.
My alarm went off at 6:45 Tuesday morning. I had set the alarm. Me. The first week of summer vacation, and I had intentionally told a machine to blare an angry noise at me early in the morning. On top of that, I actually got out of bed. That was like getting up at 4:00 on a normal school morning.
I’m not sure when it had happened, but at some point in the past two days Mom had talked to Deion’s mom who had talked to Thomas’ mom and Arjeet’s mom who had talked to Frankie’s mom. They had come up with a plan. Interestingly, the plan sounded exactly like what Thomas wanted to have happen. I made a mental note to consult Thomas the next time I needed something really important from my parents. That felt backwards—me asking Thomas for help.
All five of us were going to meet at Deion’s house and bike over together. Deion’s mom and my mom were going to drive over to Battlehoop to check out the place for the other parents. They’d stay with us until they felt comfortable and then head out.
Janey was part of the plan, too. I didn’t want to think about it. Dad had put Janey’s bike in Mom’s minivan before he left for work so Mom could leave it at Battlehoop for her if they decided to let her stay.
I hopped on my bike at 7:30 sharp and got to Deion’s house in a leisurely ten minutes. Arjeet and Deion were waiting on their bikes out front. Arjeet was second generation Indian, but he sounded like he was from Alabama, because he was. He could do an awesome Indian accent, though, and loved to mess with people. He’d lay on a thick accent and say, “The village of my youth had no talking screens.” That sort of thing. He had a small head, and his hair was long enough to cover his eyes half the time.
Deion was a little taller than me, and a little bulkier. He lived for music. He played the trumpet and was determined to be the second coming of Louis Armstrong, whoever that was.
“You ready to learn to kick some…” Arjeet said.
I widened my eyes and cut him off with a frantic shake of my head as the front door opened. Mrs. Davies, Deion’s mom, walked out and came down the sidewalk to us. She smiled.
Mrs. Davies was a happy person, but you did not mess with her. I had a vivid memory of her pinching Arjeet’s ear, with him up on his tip toes, and smiling while she came down on him for trying to scare her when she came in from grocery shopping. She loved having the neighborhood kids over, but didn’t put up with anything from us. Today she wore some jeans and a white whatever those shirts for women are called. Her hair was done in a million tiny braids hanging to her shoulders.
Just then Thomas came streaking around the turn toward the house on his tiny bike with Frankie in hot pursuit. Frankie was gaining, but Thomas skidded to a stop just before Frankie arrived. Frankie didn’t really hang with us, but he lived two doors down from Thomas, so the two of them spent some time together. He was kinda weird and into all sorts of board games and stuff. He was about my size and had bushy red hair.
“You boys are really impressing me,” Mrs. Davies said. “First week of summer break and here you are, bright and early, about to take advantage of an opportunity and do some hard work.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Davies,” Arjeet said, cutting in before anyone else could answer. He was probably trying to cover his tracks in case she had heard what he almost said. Mrs. Davies was still smiling, and it made me smile.
Mom’s silver minivan swung around the corner into view and pulled up alongside us. The passenger front window rolled down as she arrived. Janey leaned out and waved. My smile vanished.
“Hey Janey,” Thomas said. “Going to learn martial arts with us?”
“You bet!” Janey gave Thomas a big thumbs up.
“Lyla,” Mom said from the driver side, “do you want to ride with me? I’ll have Janey flip to a middle seat.”
“Why, sure,” Mrs. Davies said. “Let me run inside and grab my purse. Do you have the address?”
Mom flashed her phone. “Ready to go.”
Mrs. Davies nodded and turned to us. “You boys want to get a head start? Do you know where you are going?”
“Sure thing, Mrs. Davies,” Arjeet said.
Thomas flashed her a thumbs up, a
nd Frankie gave her a big grin.
“We’re good, Mom,” Deion said. “See you there?”
“All right, boys, but be safe and stick together.” Mrs. Davies walked back up to her house to get her purse, and we took off.
“As I was saying,” Arjeet said as we reached the end of the block, “let’s go learn to kick some—”
Deion interrupted him. “So how’d you first hear about this, Thomas?”
“Mara met us in the park Saturday morning,” Thomas said. “She and Jordan are establishing this new dojo—”
“Battlehoop,” Frankie interjected.
“Yeah, Battlehoop,” Thomas said.
“What kind of name is Battlehoop?” Deion asked.
“No idea. Joss, any ideas?”
“Nope,” I said. “But Jordan is legit. He is huge. I’m betting he can teach us. And Mara…”
“I already told them, Joss,” Thomas said. “Mara’s hot, and supposedly a black belt in like three different martial arts.”
“You had me at hot,” Arjeet said.
“And we just have to talk it up next year at school?” Deion asked.
“Yep” Thomas said. “And make them look good by showing off our crazy skills so they can get more students. Paying students.”
We had come to a stop at the edge of our neighborhood. The light changed, and we cut across the street.
“I’m a little sketchy on where we’re going,” Frankie said.
“Up ahead a few blocks,” I said. “On that street by the train tracks. You’ll see the sign on the door.”
Mom’s minivan passed us as we took the last turn. The black BMW and little silver Toyota were parked in front of the building. Mom pulled in and parked one space over from the Toyota. We caught up and took a minute to figure out how to chain all the bikes together using Thomas’ ridiculous bike lock chain.
“You boys ready to go inside?” Mrs. Davies asked as she and Mom walked up with Janey.
“Wait. What’s Janey doing?” Arjeet asked. “Wasn’t she joking about coming with us?”
“No,” Thomas said as he worked on the bike lock. “She’s here to learn, same as you. You scared, Arjeet?”
“No, I just didn’t know there was going to be a girl with us.”
“Doofus,” Deion said. “We’re being taught by a girl. Why wouldn’t a girl be in the class?”
Janey stepped up to Arjeet and glared at him. The poor guy was only about an inch taller than her. “I’m going to work harder than any of you, and then I’m going to pound you.”
Thomas stood up from chaining the bikes together and saw the stare-down. He walked toward the door, cutting between Arjeet and Janey. “Okay, let’s do this!”
He led the charge up the steps and opened the door. At the last second he stopped himself from dashing through the doorway and instead stepped back and held the door for the ladies. Mom and Mrs. Davies thanked him, and he gave an over-the-top bow in return, still holding the door with a foot.
“Gentlemen,” Thomas said, gesturing grandly with a hand for us to enter.
I guess I’d be pretty excited too if I’d just roped several other kids into training all summer, and as a result was going to make a hundred bucks a week. Not too shabby. And not too fair, either. Wasn’t I the one with the superpowers that made all this possible? Why should he be making all the money? I did feel excited, but it was borderline apprehensive. What was I getting myself into? I felt as though I hadn’t stopped to think since I’d read Mara’s letter. Which made no sense because I'd fretted constantly.
I gave Thomas my best smirk while bowing in return, and headed into the dojo. Mara and Jordan were walking toward us. Jordan was once again wearing all black with white tennis shoes. Mara was barefoot and wearing a snug, black T-shirt that said
“Ladies,” Jordan said, “may I presume you are the mothers of a couple of our students?”
“Why, yes, we are,” Mrs. Davies said. “I’m Lyla Davies.”
“Jordan Johnson, ma’am,” Jordan said. He nodded toward Mara. “My associate, Mara Torres.”
“I’m Jennifer Morgan,” Mom said. The adults did that awkward thing where they all shook each other’s hands, trying not to get in each other’s way.
“Looks like we’ve got a great group of students,” Mara said.
“Yes we do,” Jordan said. “So, ladies, I’m sure you have some questions. How can we put your minds at ease?”
Mom and Mrs. Davies proceeded to politely interrogate Jordan and Mara on everything under the sun. Safety. Certification. Standards. Techniques. I was terrified at first that my cover would be blown and Mom would find out this was really a front for the Guild.
It turns out, there wasn’t even a sliver of a chance of that happening. Jordan brought out printed materials, showed them the corporate Battlehoop website on a laptop, discussed instructor training and certification, and last of all pulled out an Olympic bronze medal in judo. His Olympic bronze medal.
“Well, this is just tremendous,” Mrs. Davies said. “Can we see a demonstration?”
“Sure,” Mara said. “However, keep in mind what you’ll see will be well beyond anything your sons can learn in a few weeks.”
“I should hope so,” Mom said with a smile.
“Students,” Jordan said, “shoes off as you step onto the platform. Find a seat around battlehoop five. That’s the center one. Stay off the white.”
I slipped off my shoes and left them beside the platform. Three sharp steps led up onto the padded surface. Each of the nine circles were defined by maybe a two-foot thick white line around a ten-foot or so circle of the blue padding. I walked over to the middle circle and sat down outside the white line. The other guys joined me. Janey sat beside Arjeet and gave him a hard look. The moms stood behind us.
Jordan and Mara stepped into the circle and bowed to each other. Jordan was barefoot now. They started. Mara and Jordan attacked each other with such speed and ferocity it was breathtaking. It only lasted a minute, which was a good thing, because I think I stopped breathing after about twenty seconds.
They threw fists, feet, and elbows at each other. Jordan was like a rock slide, crashing down with massive force, while Mara was the wind, elusive and everywhere at once. My eyes couldn’t keep up, and what I did see my brain had trouble processing. There were hints, the tiniest cracks in the illusion of their sparring, that Jordan could crush her at any moment, but Mara evaded all his strikes.
And then it was over. Jordan leapt backward and stood straight. Mara straightened, they bowed to each other, and walked over to the moms.
“Dude,” said Frankie.
That about summed it up. I looked over at Janey. Her eyes were wide and sparkled from the lights above as she stared at Mara.
“Well,” said Mom. “That was… my goodness.”
“Any other questions we can answer?” Jordan asked.
Mrs. Davies and Mom looked at each other for a moment.
“I think that about covers it,” Mrs. Davies said. “Jen, are you going to leave Janey?”
“Yes!” Janey yelled from where she sat.
“I suppose so,” Mom said. “Thomas, would you mind adding Janey’s bike to your lock?”
“Sure thing, Mrs. Morgan,” Thomas said. He hopped up and followed the moms out. A minute later he was back.
Jordan and Mara moved to the center of circle five.
“Scrunch in,” Jordan said. “Sit in a tight semi-circle. Any questions before we start?”
Arjeet’s hand shot up. Jordan nodded toward him.
“What does Battlehoop mean?”
Jordan waved his hand at the rings painted on the mats. “These are the battlehoops. You’ll learn to fight in them. We aren’t going to teach you to look pretty while jumping around and prancing. You’re going to learn real martial arts suited for close quarters hand-to-h
and combat.”
“Cool,” Arjeet said. I looked around. Frankie, Thomas, and Deion were nodding in agreement. Even Janey nodded.
“What Jordan means,” Mara said, “is we’ll teach you top-notch self-defense.”
Jordan snorted. Mara gave Jordan a hard look, her eyes narrowed. “We’re going to give you these abilities. Develop these talents. And we’re going to train you to use them well and wisely.”
She emphasized the word ‘talent’ and looked right at me when she said it. I gave a quick nod in response.
“We will begin your training,” Jordan said, “by teaching you to fall.”
Chapter 9
BOBBY FERRIS MUST PAY
BATMAN PUT AQUAMAN on the ground with one last kick to the face.
“That’s five matches to two,” Thomas said. He sat beside me on the couch, his XBOX controller in one hand, the other reaching behind him to scratch his back. He stifled a moan. “I think my arm may fall off. That medicine ball thing we did today almost killed me.”
It was Friday night, and I was tired. Six weeks of training at Battlehoop had worn me out. We’d started with falling, and kept at it for weeks. While learning to fall, we were simultaneously taught other skills. Blocking. Punching. Gouging. Kicking. Elbowing. How to control someone by rotating and levering their limbs, or by pushing on nerve centers.
Around week three, Jordan had also introduced non-fighting skills that he called “useful.” Janey had started calling them our ninja skills, and it had stuck. How to walk silently. How to hold perfectly still without getting muscle cramps. Something called tactical breathing, which involved breathing with a certain tempo to control your heart rate. Ninja skills.
On top of all that, we each had private instruction with Mara every day. It was all a cover, of course, for that twenty to thirty minutes I spent with her training as a Seven. Mara pushed me on ghosting and blending each and every day. If I wanted to talk about shifting, well, that was for another time. She kept saying it was important to build up one or two talents first, but I wasn’t so sure.
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