by Ellis Logan
Chapter 2
I woke up to the muted sounds of morning coming from the kitchen. Fresh, bright sunlight slanted in through the window, pouring over the bed and hitting me straight in the eyes.
Pain rocketed through my head and I squeezed my eyes shut again. I breathed in slowly, counted to five, and exhaled. I waited, testing my senses. That was a little better. A few more moments, and the light behind my eyelids dimmed. I cautiously opened my eyes, gratefully noting the clouds moving in across the sun.
I sat up and slowly made my way out of bed. When I went to slip on an old kimono over my pajamas, I looked down and realized I was still wearing the same clothes from the day before. So much for movie night. Or wait – had we watched a movie? Some kind of ‘end of days’ film? I shook my head, trying to remember when I had fallen asleep, and failed. Giving up, I went over to my closet to pick out a fresh shirt, and stumbled over my snowboard on the floor. I didn’t remember leaving it there, although I vaguely recalled removing the bindings. I put the board up against the wall, and pulled on my favorite grey hoodie over my shirt.
Sunlight started streaming in again through the windows, and I made a mental note to pick up some better curtains when we went out later. I swiped my sunglasses off the dresser and put them on my head. Those, I would definitely need today.
I opened my door and smelled something awesome that eased my headache down below the surface. Mmmm. What was Mom cooking today?
The kitchen was already immaculate, since Mom liked to clean up as she cooked. She claimed it was no fun to eat if she knew she’d have to clean up afterwards. I guess I saw her point, but personally I was usually too hungry to think that far ahead. Between my frequent workouts and what mom called “teen hormones”, I seemed to need to eat every hour. Cleaning up was generally the furthest thing on my mind.
“Hey sunshine,” Mom said as she took a bite of her breakfast. “I made some strawberry waffles. Grab a banana and come eat. I have to take a conference call in an hour, but I figured we could train a little before. You can unpack some more while I’m online, and then we can head out to shop. What do you say?”
“Sure, that sounds great.” I slid down onto the stool next to her at the island. “What happened to movie night?”
“I tried to wake you, but you were out cold. I didn’t try too hard, figured you must need the rest?”
“Yeah, I guess.” I didn’t want to tell her I didn’t even remember lying down. Mom was tough, but she tended to worry sometimes. “I kind of woke up with a headache, but I’m feeling fine now. Thanks to your awesome pancakes – these are great!”
“Thanks, glad to hear it. Why don’t you finish up, and I’ll go set up. I have something special for you today. Oh, and here, have some of my juice, that will make sure your headache doesn’t come back.”
“Ew, not the dreaded juice!” I sighed as she passed me the partially full glass. Bright green, with swirls of purple and orange. “What’s in this one?”
“Oh, you know, the usual. Kale. Dandelion greens. Some purple cabbage and carrots. Fresh ginger. Just drink it. You know you want to.” She winked at me as she left the room
I took an experimental sip. Alright, it didn’t taste quite as bad as usual. It was almost sweet, and the ginger was nice. I closed my eyes and drank most of it down in one go. Gah. Too much green. Mom wasn’t just a big believer in the power of chocolate, she was a whole food fanatic. Sure, she’d eat pizza, but she also made enough fresh juice every morning to have some with each meal. And, apparently, enough for me if I needed a pick me up. Any time I was tired, she would force some green stuff at me. She claimed the fresher the food, the more pure the energy was for our body, and the better our immune system could function. I just thought it was revolting.
Although, I thought as I finished the last bit left in the glass, this time it really wasn’t so bad. Either she’d finally hit on a better combination, or she was converting me after seventeen years. I had to admit, it did usually make me feel better, and I never got sick.
I put my dishes in the sink and walked into the living room, taking in what my mom had planned for us today.
Most kids had living rooms filled with Xboxes, massive TVS, chairs, side tables, huge couches. Me? We had one small flatscreen anchored securely against the wall, a DVD player connected to it, sitting on the cabinet below. A cushy old sofa was pushed against the opposite wall. And that was it. No end tables. No other furniture. Not even a decorative carpet. Sometimes, we got to live in houses with yards or basements that were perfect for sparring. Other times, we had to live in apartments. Like now. And this was where we sparred.
You would have thought that the cabinet under the TV at least held a game console or cable box. But no. Not my mom. She said that’s what my computer was for – I could use that however I wanted. But TV was for movies only, we never had cable (she claimed the commercials weakened the mind) and the cabinet, that was for our gear.
Right now, it was standing open, with my mom in front of it. She had already removed a short, thick wooden staff and two small swords and laid them in the middle of the floor. She was busy putting some ten pound weights on her wrists to go with the fifteens on her ankles. She tossed two pairs of matching weights at me as I walked in the room.
I grabbed one out of the air, and ducked as the other pair just missed my head. “Hey, watch it!”
She chuckled. “Still not much better at catching, I see. No worries, we’ll make a softball star out of you yet.”
“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes while I finished strapping on the fives and tens she’d given me.
She shut the cabinet and turned around. “Okay, today we’re on defense. Grab the staff, and get ready.”
I stepped into the middle of the room, removed my hoodie and threw it on the couch. I took a deep breath and bowed slightly to my mother. She bowed to me as I picked up the staff and stood up to face her with my knees slightly bent in a wide stance.
She just stood there and stared at me, not moving a muscle. I started to get impatient. She often did this, trying to force me into action, since she said my lack of patience made me impulsive, and was one of my greatest weaknesses. Suddenly, her eyes went dark, cold. Determined. It was her only tell. Fast as lightning, she dropped and rolled to the side around me, picking up both swords and leaping up on to her feet in one move, suddenly standing behind me to the right. I whirled as her swords came down on either side of me. I leapt up and just missed having a bit of my hair sliced off.
“Watch the hair, mom!”
She laughed, and came at me full force, swords flashing as they whirled and sliced. I quit worrying about my hair and stopped each move with my staff. I blocked again and again for what seemed like forever, until I was sweating furiously and out of breath. This was getting old. I decided to throw my mom’s move back at her, dropped to the ground and rolled around her to the left. As I rolled, I knocked her left sword out of her hand with my staff, then reach around her and grabbed her right sword with my own hand from behind, giving her wrist a quick, painful twist to the side so that she had no choice but to release it.
“Nicely done!” Mom beamed at me, like I was a toddler coloring neatly inside the lines. She didn’t look the slightest bit winded. She wasn’t even sweating. At least a strand of auburn hair had fallen out from behind her ear, and her ponytail was a little messy. “Next time, you can wear the heavier weights.”
I groaned. “How about next time you don’t try to kill me?”
She laughed, and handed me a glass of water from on top of the cabinet. “As if that would ever happen. Now drink up, and go take a shower. I have to uplink with the IT guru from Setacom, and then we’ll head out.”
I trudged back to my room to grab a robe, wondering if the day would come when I won with a fight with my mom and I wouldn’t feel like she had let me win. I laughed, and shook my head. It’d never happen.