by Urania Sarri
“I know what you are.”
I should be worried about the fact that I heard voices, but instead, a sudden surge of rage overwhelms me. Every cell in my body wanted to shout at him: STAY AWAY FROM ME!
His face changed into a frown that made me snap. What the heck?
In the locker rooms, I tried to convince myself that it had just been my imagination; it had to be, right? Otherwise, I had to consider the possibility that I was in the wrong place.
“Really Madison? A shrink’s couch?” The voice was still there. I couldn’t say if it was a man’s or a woman’s voice. It came as a whisper and that made it even more creepy.
“Ok. Let’s not panic,” I was talking to myself, walking back and forth along the aisle until my heartbeat slowed down.
I took a deep breath. “You’re okay. You’re okay,” I tried to reassure myself.
Whatever was going on with me, I was certain I could overcome it. I’d made it in the past when I had to overcome so much more. First, I had to find a way to block out that voice. Second, I should keep this to myself; a visit to a therapist was the last thing I needed. Third, I should not let Jerome get under my skin. Seriously, I could not blame him for everything. On the other hand, if it was him that made me hear voices, he seemed to have a strange influence on me; it might be a good idea to ask for a transfer as soon as the semester started.
I made a mental note to call my advisor the following day.
CHAPTER TWO
Punching Bag
That call did not end well. Mrs. Blake, my advisor, strongly recommended against dropping the training program. The fitness evaluation was taking place during the first week of October, and Mrs. Blake insisted that I complete the intensive training course if I intended to start the Academy on a competitive basis. Then she reminded me how important my grades in the Academy would be in order to get the Brassington scholarship for the military school.
“You’ll get better at this,” Blue tried to cheer me up when I told her about my advisor’s ultimatum. “Just give it some time, and you’ll get used to Jerome’s methods. The Military school is what you’ve always wanted.”
I wondered what she would say if she knew what my real problem with training was.
“Matt was not so demanding,” I said instead. “He helped me explore my limits. Jerome seems to be challenging me the whole time.”
Blue gave me a quizzical look. “That’s not what really bothers you, is it?”
I should have expected the question. It was the first time I was keeping secrets from my friends, and I probably wasn’t a good liar. Yet. That was the perfect moment to tell Blue the truth. But how could I explain something I wasn’t sure I could explain to myself in the first place?
“What do you mean?” I asked. “Besides the fact that every muscle in my body aches?”
Blue gave me a wicked smile. “Well, just forget about him now. Let’s get dressed. There’s a band playing at the Waves tonight. I’m sure a night out will make you feel better.”
A girls’ night wasn’t enough to make me forget the voices, Jerome, and that menacing shrink’s couch. But being around Megan and Blue always made things easier. The bond we shared was very special, and it was getting stronger year by year. There was a funny part; like the way we completed each other’s sentences. But there was a darker part too; there had been times we could literally feel each other’s emotions; even physical pain. But that was our secret. A secret we’d only shared with Sister Merentith. I used to think that a large part of that bond came from our wounded past. A wound carved from the suffering of loss.
Megan’s parents had died in a car crash when she was eight years old. The only thing that bonded her to her past was a family album left by her grandma, her only relative, who’d died shortly after her parents’ accident. I never told Megan, but I had always thought it was really strange to have only one photo of her parents in it. As I never told her that with her curly blonde hair she didn’t look at all like her Latino parents.
Blue had never met her father, as he’d left her mom before Blue was born. She’d never talk about her mom either, except for that one time when she told us that her mother was an alcoholic who had died in her sleep. Blue had been the one to find her. Like Megan, she was only eight years old when that happened. On her sixteenth birthday, she changed her name from Maggie to Blue. It was the day she dyed her blonde hair in a light blue color. With her porcelain skin and green eyes, she looked almost ethereal; like a fairy that popped out from the pages of a storybook.
The Waves club was close to the Academy, and that made it very popular with students. It often hosted live shows with indie groups. Otherwise, the owners would always find a reason to have a party. Megan worked part-time waitressing there, so we had made it our favorite hang-out.
The night turned out far better than I had expected. The club was teeming with summer-school, Academy students, and only a few locals; sweaty bodies that swayed to the Latin rhythm the band played.
I was savoring a strawberry mojito when I saw Jake wave at me, holding up a bottle of beer. I waved back and tried to hide my surprise when I saw him push his way among the crowd towards me. He looked cute in his loose jeans and black t-shirt. Like Jerome, he wore his hair in a ponytail, but his hair was fair; nothing like Jerome’s ebony silk. All of a sudden, the memory of Jerome pressed against my body made me sigh.
“Hey,” Jake said leaning closer.
“Hi, Jake. I’ve never seen you here before. Are you sure you’re in the right place?”
Jake didn’t miss the bitter edge in my voice and smiled awkwardly. “I guess I deserved that. Listen, I wanted to apologize… For the other day… At the gym?”
I rattled the ice cubes in my nearly drained glass. “No need to. It was just…”
“Unacceptable. Totally unprofessional,” he added.
I chuckled. “Honestly, what was that? Like, did you make a bet on who would fall first?”
Jake’s eyes widened at my words. “Wow! You’re good! What gave us away?”
Not exactly the answer I hoped for. “You did. Just now.”
“Oops!” he said, and I watched him try to wash down the bashfulness with a desperate gulp of beer. “I’m the worst when it comes to apologizing. I just…”
“Forget it, Jake, please. I’m just joking.”
“Good. Because I promised Jerome, I’d apologize.”
“He made you do this?”
Another gulp of beer. “No. But he agreed it was the right thing to do. Did I mention I’m here on behalf of the whole gang?”
“We’re okay. Really.”
“Good, good. Because we should be taking our job more seriously. Jerome’s words.”
“Of course. Training is a responsible job, I guess.”
Only for a brief moment, Jake squinted skeptically in the dim light.
Beer interval again. “I hope that incident won’t put you off; about your training I mean.”
“Absolutely not,” I said, thinking about all the other strange things that did put me off.
When the awkward phase wore off, Jake asked about my courses in Brassington Academy; that led us to discuss my training program. Before I knew it, I was asking about Jerome’s whereabouts, but Jake shrugged and told me that last time he saw Jerome, he was at the gym pool. Giving me a puzzled look, he asked what I thought about Jerome training me.
“He’s tough,” I said.
Jake nodded with a lopsided smile. “He has to be. He’s one of the best.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that.
“Don’t worry. You’re in good hands,” Jake continued.
Attempting to shift the topic, I asked him about my previous trainer, Matt. I didn’t make much out of Jake’s evasive answers. It seemed that Matt had found another job in some place Jake was not eager to reveal. He did, however, convince me that Matt wasn’t coming back to Brassington Hills.
A few minutes later, I watched Jake leave, thinking t
hat I should be feeling relieved that Jerome was not around. I recalled his dark eyes and the warmth of his body against mine during our torturous training. I drained my glass in one sip.
“What did I miss?” Blue took Jake’s place next to me.
“Not much. I’m going home” I told her, suddenly losing my good mood. “Are you coming?”
“Sure. I’m not letting you go home alone. That break-in the other day has creeped me out.”
I couldn’t argue that. Finding the door of the apartment I shared with the girls wide open and everything inside turned upside-down had caused a lot of worry to everyone in the guesthouse. Nothing was missing; of course, none of us had any valuables anyway. The police had not found any fingerprints, either. That made everyone think the whole situation could be just a freshman prank.
The following training sessions with Jerome were even worse. There was more rope-jumping and weight-lifting but no voices, no challenging stares and, basically, no touching. Jerome, always taciturn and imposing, selected his training methods in a way that kept him at a safe distance from me. I, on the other hand, wasn’t sure how that made me feel. Part of me was relieved that there was less awkwardness, but there was that other part that felt neglected and disappointed.
Until a couple of weeks later when things between us changed. The moment I saw Jerome that morning, I thought that something about him was different. Same hairdo, same black outfit, same pinball abs; yet, there was something about him that made him more appealing. Besides, he was smiling!
Of course, training was still hard. When I could not feel my arms and legs after a program of weight-lifting, Jerome gave me a pair of red boxing gloves and pointed to the punching bag.
“I’m not happy with your muscle strength.” He looked at me briefly. “I don’t know what you’ve been doing with Matt all this time.”
“Well Matt acknowledged the fact that I’m not going to the Olympics,” I said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jerome blinked, looking at me like I’d just said the craziest thing.
Thinking that this could be my window to come out clean, I went on. “I mean...” I cleaned my throat. “Look, I’m not exactly the kind of girl you…” I stopped before the wrong word came out. “… expected. You must have got that by now.”
I watched his expression change from surprised to amused as the words sank in. “How do you know what I expected?” he asked.
“Look, I’m here because I have to, not because I like it.”
Jerome arched a brow at me questioningly. “So, this attitude of yours, it’s not because of me?”
“I don’t have an attitude. And why would it be because of you?”
“Oh, come on I! I know you didn’t want me to train you.”
I suddenly realized I wasn’t ready for that much honesty. “I just…” Once again words eluded me; apparently, I could not lie to him.
Jerome chuckled. “It’s okay. I tried to avoid you too.”
“You did?”
“No offense, but I’m not good at working with others.”
“Same here.”
He gave me a rueful smile, his eyes never leaving mine. “The guys thought you had a thing for Matt.”
“What? This is ridiculous!”
The night at Waves flashed back to me with my persistent questions about Matt’s whereabouts and Jake’s suspicious look.
Jerome just shrugged and headed to the boxing ring. “If you say so.”
“No, wait!” This is really embarrassing, I thought. Jerome stopped and turned to face me. “It’s not about Matt, and it’s not about you. It’s just… It’s this thing I have. I need to have a steady routine around me. Whenever there’s a change… I just don’t do well…It makes me…” Okay, maybe I should drop Martial Arts for an intensive vocabulary course.
“Insecure?”
He’d said the right word. I could never admit it to myself, but when I heard him say it, it felt like a weight was lifted off my chest.
“So, you don’t like training. What else don’t you like?” Jerome asked.
I thought about how honest I should be with him.
“Fighting?” I said, without even thinking about it. Not totally true. Part of me had always loved fighting. I could recall some pretty messy wrestling matches back at the Shelter, not exactly the normal practice in the PE class. These always took place in the changing rooms or the dorms.
“Why don’t we find out?” He threw a bottle of water to me. “Hey, I’m sorry if I put you in a spot here. I mean, I can only imagine how tough amnesia must be.”
I braced myself for the pity attack that always ensued when my amnesia issue came up. I hated that part. But there was no expression of pity coming from Jerome. He just turned to the punching bag and held it steady.
“You look pissed again,” he said.
I felt my body stiffen. “I’m not.”
“Pissed is good,” Jerome ignored me. “We can work with that.” He gave me an irresistible smile. “Go ahead. Take it all out on the bag. Think of it as the reason for your amnesia.” He raised a brow adding, “Or as me if it works for you. Let your anger out on it!”
He leaned slightly forward. “And, for the record, I’m not fond of sporty girls.”
I rolled my eyes, convincing myself that I had only imagined the flutter in my stomach. To think of the punching bag as Jerome, would make me feel much more than anger and I meant to spare myself the mortification, at least for that day.
“You want me to visualize the hurricane that almost had me drowned?”
“You think it was the hurricane. I’m saying it’s ...this bag,” Jerome smirked.
I hit the bag, softly at first and then I kept on harder and harder. Jerome was watching me intently, and I tried to focus on the bag, hitting hard, almost forgetting where I was and discovering how I was enjoying the blows. One blow after another, my mind must have gone blank. I was lost in an unprecedented trance, my fists having a mind of their own, hitting the bag with incredible force again and again.
“Wow! Slow down!” Jerome was standing behind me, holding my arms steady as I tried to jerk away from him. “Madison, what just happened?”
“What do you mean?” I turned to face him.
“I’ve been trying to stop you for a few minutes now.”
I tried to catch my breath, realizing that the muscles of my arms were burning me. My knuckles felt sore and tingling. But that wasn’t what worried me. I was hot, and all flustered up with an overwhelming sensation; an unparalleled hunger. Not a hunger for food but for something else. Something sweet I could not exactly define. Something that was definitely wrong. I tried to blink away the feeling.
“Maybe, I visualized too much?” I said among fast breaths, turning to him.
“I wonder…” Jerome was looking at me, but there was no hint of worry in his eyes. Instead, there was a spark of satisfaction in their darkness and…Could it be desire that made him look at me like he wanted to devour me? And what was that weird attraction, that magnetic pull? It made me move closer to Jerome, pulling my body hard against his.
“This is not the place... Mortals are watching.” His lips had not moved, but I heard the voice again.
I was still fazed by the surge of energy that emanated from somewhere deep inside, as my body responded to Jerome's unspoken call. I could almost touch the invisible twirl of power that encircled us. There was nowhere else to go but to him; it was never a matter of choice. I just didn’t know it by then.
Jerome took a step back and I felt immediately released. My lungs were on fire and my heart pumped frantically. I closed my eyes in an effort to calm down and re-connect with reality.
“Let it go,” the voice said.
“Madison are you alright? Do you want to take a break?” Jerome was speaking to me, sounding worried. Was it possible that I was the only one who’d felt all that? Well, I was the one hearing voices.
Opening my eyes, I studied his face.
“Let it go.”
“Actually, yes,” I said eventually. “Do you mind if we call it a day? I’m not feeling well.”
He looked concerned for a moment before letting me go.
On my way out, my cell buzzed. Before answering it, I saw that there were two missed calls from Blue. Megan’s voice sounded worried.
“Mads?”
“Hey, Megan.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Fine, why?”
“I had this strange feeling about you and… I had to call. Blue couldn’t reach you either.”
“I was at the gym. I’m on my way now.”
“But, something’s going on, right?”
“I’ll tell you everything. And Megan, tell Blue it’s comfort food alert. I’m in no mood for a healthy diet right now.”
“I’m on it Mads. See you.”
Brownies and cool chocolate were enough to make me unravel all the steamy moments with my sexy trainer. Of course, I left out the voices and the hair-raising stuff.
The girls’ verdict was that I should make the first move.
“He doesn’t want to look unprofessional by hitting on you,” Blue said.
“Blue’s right. You have to take him out of there. Ask him out, see how he acts when he’s not your trainer,” Megan agreed.
Blue’s unusually grave face alarmed me. “What’s wrong with you?” I asked.
“Just make sure you’re being careful,” Blue said.
“Your instincts kicked in?” I teased.
Blue shrugged. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.” Her eyes met Megan’s and an eerie silence followed.
In the following session, I did not know what to expect. Once again, I was torn in two; part of me was looking forward to it when another part was terrified by the possibility of losing control once more. But when Jerome asked me to punch that bag again, I never lost control.