Three spots available in the junior class Fight Club. Tryouts held every Monday and Wednesday after last bell. Not responsible for injuries sustained. Medical team on standby. Come on out if you think you’ve got what it takes.
There was more about waiving liability for possible injuries and I probably would’ve kept reading, but Alex waited with arms crossed over his chest and a scowl at the end of the hall. I hurried to catch up and we took a right down another hallway.
"Why is everyone staring at me?" I asked.
“What do you mean?”
I looked at him with narrowed eyes. “You know what I mean. I know you heard some of the comments being made outside.”
The muscles in his jaw tightened. “Most of the kids here have been together since they were kids. Same school, same social circles. You know how it is. Not everyone is so quick to adjust to a new face.”
I shook my head, not willing to accept such an easy answer. “No, it’s more than that. I heard what they were saying about me. They know that I’m – you know, mixed or whatever. And they have a problem with that.”
“Of course they do,” he snapped. “Do you think any of us want a Werewolf–even a half-ass one–at our school? Learning our moves? Fighting with us?”
I hadn’t been prepared for that; I had no idea what to say. I blinked up at him, mortified by the tears I could feel forming, and looked away while I tried to get myself together. Underneath the urge to cry, I was mad. So I clung to that and grit my teeth before glaring back at him.
“I see,” I said. “Well thanks for the heads up. In the meantime I’ll need a new tutor. One who isn’t a bigoted asshole.”
Alex exhaled, and some of the fire went out of his eyes, leaving them pale and apologetic. “Look, I’m sorry.” His shoulders relaxed and he was running a hand over his buzzed hair like he didn’t know what to do next. “I didn’t mean to – I don’t feel that way. I’ve known your Grandma for a long time. She was good to me and I intend to return the favor, so I’ll tutor you, and I’m sorry for what I said. The truth is the warehouse fight still has me wound up. That’s what the kids are still talking about and none of them have all the right details, which is probably why you’ve been labeled the enemy. Give it a few days and it’ll pass.”
I purposely held back from answering for a few seconds. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe him. I wanted to; but the look he’d given me when he’d talked about having a Werewolf in their midst – something told me he’d meant it. Even if he was trying not to. Finally, I nodded. “Okay, fine. Apology accepted.”
Alex looked relieved, and we started walking again. I thought about the warehouse fight. It made sense something like that would’ve been passed through the halls of a Hunter school, especially since Grandma’s rescue team apparently went to school here. I’d have to ask her about that. Between that, and how well she seemed to know Headmaster Whitfield, it seemed Grandma was more involved–or at least connected–than I knew.
“Here we are,” said Alex, swinging to a stop outside the last door on the left.
Through the small window, I caught a glimpse of desks filled with students. Posters with various fighting stances hung on the walls.
“So here’s how this is going to work,” he said, pulling my attention back. “I’ll meet you after last bell to show you the way to where we’ll train.” He glanced down at my jeans and hoodie. “You might want to change into more suitable clothes.”
I looked down at myself and then back at him. “More suitable how? We’re just studying?”
“No, we’re training,” he said. He raised an eyebrow at my blank look. “Combat? Fighting?”
“Oh. I didn’t know. They said tutor and I thought… my bags are being sent to my room for me. I didn’t have time to change.”
“No biggie, today will be a light day. Starting tomorrow, though, you’ll want to be comfortable.”
Something about the way he'd said light day made me defensive; like he expected me to suck or something.
The door opened and a petite red head appeared. “Mr. Channing. What can I do for you?” she asked Alex, and I realized she was the teacher.
“Professor Flaherty, this is Tara Godfrey.”
The woman turned to me and smiled. “Miss Godfrey, it’s nice to meet you.” I took the hand she offered and shook it, trying to figure out where I’d seen her before. She wore black pants that molded to her and had a mass of red hair secured in a haphazard bun high on her head.
“Nice to meet you, too,” I said. “Do I know you?”
“We’ve never been introduced. I know your grandmother. You might have seen me at the warehouse incident a few days back.”
“Oh, right.” I remembered the tiny red head, but I hadn’t been close enough to make out facial features – and I’d assumed based on her size that she was a student.
Professor Flaherty looked at Alex. “It was nice of you to show our new student to her class. I’ll take it from here.”
“I’ll see you at three,” he said, nodding to me as he retreated down the hall.
Professor Flaherty turned to me with a knowing look. “Not what you expected for a combat teacher am I right?”
For a second I thought she was talking about Alex and I didn’t know what to say, but then I realized she was gesturing to herself. “Oh, no, I guess not,” I admitted.
She smiled wider, which lit her face and hair, making it all seem to glow. It helped soften the sharp glint that she wore in her eyes. “Then again, if we’re being honest, you’re not what I pictured either, for the daughter of a legend.”
I opened my mouth to ask her what she’d meant, but a movement behind her cut me off. An object was sailing through the air, heading straight for the back of Professor Flaherty’s head. I opened my mouth to yell a warning but there wasn’t time.
Professor Flaherty twisted and her hand shot out, grabbing the object out of the air just before it made impact against her skull. She held it up and frowned. It was a rock the size of my fist. Her smile disappeared, replaced by a scowl that intimidated me far more than any other teacher I’d ever had, and turned back to the rest of the class.
“Who did this?” she snapped.
“Sorry Professor Flaherty. I was aiming for Justin,” called a male voice from a few rows back. I caught a glimpse of a jock-looking guy with messy brown hair, smiling apologetically.
“Your aim is atrocious, Levi,” Professor Flaherty responded.
She stepped further into the room, motioning for me to join her, and set the rock on her desk, the incident already forgotten. I stared, trying to understand how almost getting your skull bashed in was no big deal.
“Class, this is Tara Godfrey,” Professor Flaherty said, placing a small hand on my shoulder. “She’s new here, and I expect every single one of you to treat her like you would anyone else.”
Quiet snickers and mumbled words followed as I shuffled to my seat. A foot shot out a few rows in, and I barely missed face-planting in the aisle as I stumbled and slid into the empty desk. I got another round of snickers and laughter. If Professor Flaherty noticed, she didn’t comment. I glared at the kids around me until they looked away.
Up front, Professor Flaherty gathered papers and files while she talked. “We’ll be working outside today, so go ahead and assemble on the lawn. I’ll meet you out there in a couple of minutes.”
Smiles appeared and a couple of whoops went up around the room as kids jumped up and began filing out a side door. I took a step in that direction, but Professor Flaherty’s voice stopped me. She was bent over her desk, rummaging through its drawers as if she’d lost something.
“Tara, hang on, and I’ll walk with you,” she said without looking up.
“Oh, I’ll walk her, Professor Flaherty.” A boy hung back in the doorway, a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. He wore old jeans – not ratty, but worn and comfortable, and a shirt that said something about the 17th annual science fair scrawled on it. His backpack was
filled to overflowing and looked like it weighed more than he did.
“Mr. Sandefur,” Professor Flaherty said, barely glancing over before going back to her search. "That’s fine. I’ll be there in a minute.”
I followed the boy out but kept my distance, unsure why he was being so nice after the way the rest of the kids had acted.
“Hey, I’m Logan,” he said, extending his hand.
I shook it, still skeptical. “Tara.”
“I know. The battle grounds are this way,” he said, setting off on a narrow path that led into the trees.
I hesitated.
He stopped and walked back over to me. “If I’m lying, you could probably take me in a fight,” he said. “I’m just saying, if that makes you feel better.”
I considered that. “Okay, let’s go.”
He smiled, and a tiny dimple appeared in his cheek above his lip. I smiled back, an automatic gesture, and let Logan lead the way down the narrow path. I was half tempted to turn and look for Professor Flaherty behind us, just to be sure, but I didn’t. I’d made the decision to trust someone on the basis of a dimple, and I couldn’t turn back now.
The air was cooler in the cover of the trees. I was glad I still had my hoodie and pulled it tighter across my abdomen and zipped it up. I glanced up at the thick green canopy of leaves – mostly pine needles –and branches that dimmed the sunlight. The contrast of the rich green against the brown bark was mesmerizing. I breathed in deeply, and the scent of dirt and moss filled my head. It made me think of Wes and the goodbye we’d had in the trees behind my house.
Wanting to push the image away, I turned my attention back to the path in front of me and saw that the trees were breaking up ahead. Logan stepped off the path and pushed his way through light bushes, into a clearing. I stepped through behind him and saw that he hadn’t deceived me after all. The rest of the class was all assembled, broken into little groups and talking and laughing.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Don’t mention it. Sucks being the new kid,” said Logan.
“How do you know?”
“I was it last year. Not fun. I had to buy new underwear five times. Eventually I just carried it in my backpack so they couldn’t get to it.”
I looked at him with wide eyes, unable to bring myself to ask why he’d needed new underwear. Maybe I didn’t want to know.
Behind us, Professor Flaherty appeared with an armload of files and notebooks. She dropped it all onto the ground with a thud and picked up the stopwatch lying on the top of the pile.
“All right, everyone. Find your sparring partners,” she called.
The cliques broke up and everyone lined up, pairing up in a way that let me know they’d done this before. Logan moved away and went to stand in front of a boy with skinny jeans and a purple tee shirt with a picture of black piano keys trailing diagonally across the fabric. He looked bored, but Logan shot me a dimpled grin and crouched into a ready position. I stood back near the edge of the clearing, waiting to see what would happen next. Professor Flaherty came up beside me.
“Tara, I understand you’ve never had any proper combat or self-defense training, so for today, I will allow you to observe. By Monday I expect you to be ready to join the class.” She turned to face the rest of the class without waiting for an answer. “Jeremy, you can call it today."
A blond boy with big arms stepped forward and then turned to face the rest of his classmates. Geez, was everyone here pretty? Professor Flaherty waited until Jeremy was in place and then called out, “Warm ups. Begin.”
I started to argue and tell her that I didn’t need to watch; that despite my lack of training, I could handle myself just fine. That I’d had proper training, because Jack was a better fighter than half the people here, probably. Then I saw the rest of the class begin to move, and I realized how petty and dumb I would’ve sounded.
Instead of ripping into each other in mock combat, they stood facing front and in perfect harmony began moving their bodies. Jeremy called out various poses or positions and everyone responded by throwing their bodies that way. It looked like a combination of kung-fu and power yoga. I’d never seen anything like it. I clamped my mouth closed and watched.
“Forward thrust,” called Jeremy.
In response, the entire class’ right fists shot out. Only, it wasn’t a normal punch. It looked graceful and powerful. Even their legs moved in sync as one came forward to balance the other, their knees bending in exactly the same place.
“Back block,” Jeremy called.
Everyone’s hands thrust backward, bent at the elbows, accompanied by a collective grunt at the force put into the move. All I could do was stare, in fascination and dread. There was no way I’d be able to learn this crap in three days. They looked like the karate kid army.
When the warm ups were over – and I knew they were because all movement ceased, and Jeremy stepped back in a stiff military march – Professor Flaherty addressed the class.
“It looks good, guys. We’re going to use the rest of the class for one-on-one practice. I want you to find a way to use as many of the warm ups as you can, in your defensive moves. Give each other breaks as needed and go easy. I do not want any more strained backs, like last week.” A few chuckles went around but they faded quickly as everyone readied themselves. “Begin.”
It was a blur of blocked punches and deflected kicks. No one wasted time in pretending to attack each other, and from where I stood, no one held back, either. There were grunts and hard breaths, evidence of the fact that full force was given to every attempted attack. I glanced over at Logan and his music-loving partner. Whatever expression of boredom the kid had worn before was gone, replaced by grim concentration as he managed to duck and block Logan’s attack. From what I could tell, blocking was about all he had time for; Logan was a blur of hands and feet.
A hand pressed lightly on my arm, and I looked up. Professor Flaherty was watching me, a glint in her green eyes. “A lot to take in. Then again, from what I saw, you’ll pick it up in no time.”
“You mean at the warehouse? Thanks, but this is something different. This is more… controlled,” I finally said, still watching the fights.
“Control is learned over time, with practice. You seem to have the talent you need to get there.”
“Maybe.” I looked back at her. “Not like you, though. You were amazing. I couldn’t believe how fast you moved.”
She smiled. “It was refreshing to be able to get out there and practice what I preach. Good exercise. You weren’t so bad yourself.”
“I don’t know. Alex had to save my butt in there. If he hadn’t…”
“Everyone needs a wingman once in a while. You’re lucky to have Alex as a trainer. He’s one of the best at this school.”
“Is that why he got stuck training me?”
She smiled, but her eyes were hard and no longer on me. “Being the best has its price.”
Chapter Five
When class ended, Logan appeared at my side looking winded and happy with himself. He slung his bag over his shoulders and let it settle into place before attempting to walk with it. “So what did you think? Are we any match for you?”
It took me a second to realize he was teasing. Before I could answer, his partner trudged past, shooting him a dirty look.
“What happened to going easy, Sandefur?”
Logan shrugged, which seemed difficult under the weight he carried. “Guess I was in a mood.”
The kid stalked off, but not before turning his glare on me. I did my best to ignore it and followed Logan onto the path, relieved he’d waited until the rest of the class had gone ahead to head back.
“You were really good,” I said as we walked.
He laughed. “Justin spends too much time reading comics and not enough time in the gym. Besides, this class is pretty easy. Wait until we get to Combat Strategy next year. I hear that one’s pretty tough.”
“How is that one different?”
> “This one is basically hand to hand wrestling. Straightforward attack and defend. Combat Strategy gives you situations where you have to plan and strategize how to get your enemy where you want them, for the easiest kill or best outcome. I hear there’s a lot of one-on-three and stuff like that.”
“Wow,” I said, shaking my head and feeling completely out of my league. I should’ve realized it would be like this, a sort of military feel to the way they did things, what with a Hunter’s basic life goal being to learn to kill, but I hadn’t expected to feel so… inadequate. I thought I’d reached a point where my fighting skills were decent enough. Apparently, I was still a beginner.
The greens of the leaves began to lighten and the filtering sunlight shown through more and more, signaling that we were getting closer to school. It still felt cool, but I could feel my body already acclimating. I didn’t need the hoodie wrapped quite so tight anymore. The cool felt good. The air was refreshing against my skin. One thing to like so far, compared to home: class outside. Not a very long list.
“You okay?” Logan asked, pulling me out of my thoughts as we stepped clear of the trees. Someone had left the classroom door propped open, and I concentrated on that instead of meeting his eyes.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just hungry.” Half-truth. I really was starving. That greasy breakfast sandwich I’d eaten earlier was long gone.
“Well, then, you’re in for a treat. One thing I can say for Wood Point: the food is the best.”
We passed through the now empty classroom and out into the hall. The press of bodies, and the buzz of voices, animated now that there was a break in class, reminded me of my high school back home; or any high school for that matter.
A shoulder slammed into mine, jarring me. I backed up a step from the impact and looked up into a blond halo of hair and a sugary smile that dripped acid. It was the girl from the courtyard. A couple of her brunette followers flanked her. None of them looked sorry, or surprised, that she’d run into me.
“Oops, I didn’t see you there,” she said, her smile pasted on. She moved away, but not before I heard her turn to her minions and say, “you know dogs, always underfoot.”
Cold Blood Page 4
