“I wanted to make you proud.” The words were barely audible.
Steene had some advice and pointers ready for the boy, but that could wait for their next practice. Instead he slapped him on one padded shoulder. “Hey, don’t worry about it. Like I said, there’ll be lots more chances.”
They sat down on a bench in the first aid tent, and a medic seized Bensin’s chin and prodded his nose. “It’s not broken. He’ll be fine.” She handed the boy a bowl of water, a clean rag, and an ice pack, and went off to help some other injured athlete.
Bensin wiped the blood off his face and sat there with the ice pack pressed against his nose, elbows on his knees, staring at the ground.
“Here’s your smoothie.” Steene pulled the thermos out of his backpack and unscrewed the lid. “Drink up. It’ll replenish your energy.” Obediently, Bensin took a sip, but he didn’t seem to care about his energy or much of anything else.
Steene went back to grab the duffel bag that he had left beside the ring. Jayce was still there, still surrounded by excited friends. “Not bad, is he?” Markus crowed when he caught sight of Steene. “Jayce and I have been working hard this year already, and obviously I must be doing something right.” He grinned smugly. “He’s going to win the whole event tonight; I just know it.”
“Yeah, that’s great.” Steene sidestepped his colleague and bent to grab the duffel bag. “That’s awesome.”
“Never could stand to lose, could you?” Markus smirked. “It’s no different now that it’s your student instead of you personally. Sorry to say, but you both may have to get used to it this year. I trained Bensin up pretty good last year, but he seems to have lost some of his edge already. And anyway, he’s never been the fighter Jayce is now.” Markus’ chuckle followed Steene back into the crowd.
Bensin was still sitting on the bench all alone. Steene felt a flare of anger at the sight of him — not anger at Bensin, but at Markus, and Jayce, and Jayce’s parents, for bribing their son with a car before he was even old enough to drive one and raising him to be a stuck-up jerk who thought he was better than anyone who wore a collar. And at society, for turning a teenage boy into a piece of property whose feelings no one cared about.
Steene sat down beside Bensin again, hating himself for being part of the system. “Hey. How’s that nose doing?”
“I think it’s stopped bleeding, sir.”
“Good. Let’s get everything put away, then, and we’ll head home.”
But once they were in the truck, he didn’t turn the engine on right away. “Just wondering: do you have any family around? Parents, siblings?”
A pause. “No, sir.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I was going to say maybe we could work out a way for them to come watch you compete sometime.” So much for that idea. “But you know, I’ve been thinking. It’s been over a week, and I can’t seem to get used to being called “sir” and “Mr. Mayvins” all the time. It’s okay now and then from someone who doesn’t know me, but we know each other pretty well now. How about you just call me “Coach” or “Coach Steene” like my other students do?”
Bensin glanced up at him. “If you want, sir. I mean, Coach.”
“Yeah, I do. And I’ll tell you what. Tomorrow evening when I get off work we’re going to go out and buy you some running shoes and some decent clothes. Oh, and a chair to sit on at meals.”
The boy glanced at him again. “Even though I lost?”
“Yeah, even though you lost. I pawned my wedding ring the other day, so I’ve got money to spend again. I figured most of it should go back in my savings, but this is important. If you’re going to be a member of my household, it’s my responsibility to see that your needs are provided for, and that shouldn’t have to depend on your performance. You’re only fourteen, for the emperor’s sake. You may be an athletically talented, unusually mature, extremely organized fourteen-year-old, but you’re still a kid. And since society has decreed that you’re to do a man’s work and live with an owner instead of a family, I’ll make it my responsibility to at least give you some reward for your work and treat you as well and as fairly as it’s in my power to do. How does that sound?”
Bensin was staring at him now as though trying to figure out if he actually meant it. “Sounds great, Coach. Really great.”
“Good. Because I don’t care what anyone says: you may have to wear a collar, but that isn’t who you are. And you don’t exist just to clean the apartment and win fights and make money for your owner.”
Bensin lowered his gaze once more. Finally he turned back toward Steene, his pale face just visible in the dimness of the cab. “Then who am I, and why do I exist?”
There was silence between them for a long moment. “People have been asking that since the beginning of time,” Steene told him at last. “If you figure out the answer, let me know.”
He started the engine. “In the meantime, finish up that smoothie, and when we get home we’ll watch a movie. You can pick one from my collection. Forget about scrubbing the floor or whatever you were going to do tomorrow, and we’ll take a day off from our run. So you can sleep in a little in the morning and rest up until it’s time to catch the bus.”
The boy drained the rest of the thermos in one long draft as the truck pulled out of the parking lot. “Okay. Thanks, Coach.”
Chapter Eight: Insanely Expensive
Bensin allowed himself the luxury of lying in bed for a good half hour after he woke up the next morning. It felt wrong when he didn’t even have the day off, but his owner had told him to sleep in and rest up, after all.
He was a little stiff from last night, and his nose was still sore, but overall he felt pretty good. The morning after a loss, he was used to waking up in pain from the lashing Mr. Creghorn always administered. It was strange for his back not to feel like it was on fire, but he could definitely get used to this.
Mr. Mayvins — Coach Steene — is a totally different kind of person than Mr. Creghorn. No one had ever encouraged Bensin after a loss before, let alone allowed him to pick a movie and then sat down and watched it with him. He wondered if that was how free kids’ dads treated them. His own dad had never done anything like that, not that he could have if he’d wanted to. Dad had always been busy working. Bensin had seldom seen him except in the mornings when he drove all the kids over to the slave school a few miles away and then picked them up again at noon in the company truck.
Bensin rolled over, nudging his collar into a more comfortable position against the pillow. Why did Coach Steene ask about my family?
He still missed Mom, but he didn’t miss Dad, not really. It wasn’t as though they had lived together or anything. At the Coastal Coconut Corporation, the slave men had slept in one big dormitory and the women and children in another. His parents never even got to spend much time with each other, except now and then when they had a few minutes to slip away after supper among the palm trees. They couldn’t stay out long, though, since the dormitories were locked at 9:00 and all the slaves had to be inside by then or risk a lashing.
Bensin finally rolled out of bed — a much more comfortable bed than he had ever slept in anywhere else — and got dressed. He had things to do, after all. Tomorrow was his day off. Last week he had gone to visit Ellie, who had been miserable ever since he’d been sold, but this time he hoped to make arrangements to hire out. It was time he earned some money. His sister’s freedom would definitely require money. Lots of it, he suspected, though he’d have to talk to Ricky to get a realistic idea of the amount.
His owner was already up, reading the newspaper in his armchair, his straight black hair still uncombed. Judging by the dishes on the counter, Coach Steene had already eaten. Was I supposed to have gotten up and made breakfast? But no, Coach didn’t look mad, and surely he would have called Bensin if he wanted him to do something. And he did tell me to sleep in.
He looked up as Bensin walked in. “Good morning. There’s oatmeal in the pot on the stove.”
“Morning, sir. I mean, Coach. Thanks.” Bensin pulled another bowl out of the cupboard and served himself. Coach Steene’s oatmeal was always good, full of toasted nuts and seeds and sweetened with pieces of fruit, not like the tasteless goop Bensin and Ellie had for breakfast most mornings at the Creghorns’.
He sat down in the desk chair to eat, and Coach Steene set aside his newspaper and came over, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I’ve been thinking about last night. You know what the problem was? You never got in your Zone.”
Bensin turned in the chair to face him. “My Zone, Coach?”
“Yeah, your Zone. I’ve seen it almost every time you fight. You get in this mode where it’s like nothing exists except you and the cavvarach. Your feet barely touch the ground, and you love life, and no one can stop you because you’re in a whole different world. I saw it that first day on Cley’s front lawn, and I keep seeing it when you spar against my other students.”
Bensin grinned. He knew exactly what Coach Steene meant. It was that joyous freedom that flowed into him when he picked up a cavvarach.
“But you didn’t get like that last night. Why?”
He shrugged. “I guess I was nervous, Coach. I kept thinking about what a good fighter you and Mr. Brinks said Jayce was, and then when we got in the ring, he attacked so fast I couldn’t think about anything else.”
“Okay, then that’s the first thing we need to work on. How to get you in your Zone right from the beginning, no matter who you’re fighting, no matter what you’ve heard about them, no matter what they do. I’ll think about how to work with you on that, but in the meantime I want you to be thinking it over too. This evening in Youth Advanced Cavvara Shil, I want you to be aware of your Zone and to know the moment you get in it and out of it. Make it a conscious thing from now on.”
“I’ll try, Coach.”
“And one more thing. I’ve been thinking about motivation. It isn’t enough on its own, but it can sure help. Jayce’s parents have promised him a car if he wins six times in a row, and that’s motivating him like crazy. What would motivate you to win?”
“I’m already motivated, Coach,” Bensin protested. “I love winning.”
“You love fighting,” his owner corrected. “And I’m sure you’ve always preferred not to lose, considering the consequences Cley inflicted. But I know he never let you keep anything you won, and I’m sure you didn’t have the cheering fans Jayce has. So what do you love about winning?”
Bensin wasn’t sure what to say to that. Of course winning felt great, but now that he thought about it, he mainly just loved cavvara shil.
“What would it take?” his owner prompted. “I can’t afford a car, but is there anything else I could do, within reason, of course? Maybe an extra day off after every time you get first place, half a day for second place?”
Bensin set his spoon down, mulling over the possibilities. An extra day off would be great; he could spend it with Ellie if the Creghorns let him, or hire out and earn money. But a whole day’s work at slave wages still wasn’t that much. The prize money in a cavvara shil tournament, on the other hand, would be five or ten times that at the very least, even for small tournaments. For the really big ones, maybe even a hundred times as much. But did he dare ask for money?
This is Coach Steene, he reminded himself. He might say no, but he won’t get mad at me just for asking.
Bensin raised his eyes again. “Would — would you maybe consider letting me keep some of the prize money when I win? Even just a little?”
“I guess I could do that,” the coach agreed after only a moment’s pause. “How does five percent sound?”
He said yes! But Bensin hesitated. Could he get away with more? It wouldn’t hurt to try. He licked his lips. “Um, actually, Coach, I was wondering if we could do ten percent? I mean, I’m the one who’ll be getting bruised and bloody out there.” He held his breath, wondering if he had gone too far. His owner had already promised him new clothes and shoes, after all. Perhaps he shouldn’t take advantage of the man’s generosity.
But Coach Steene chuckled. “You should be a lawyer. But yeah, I can’t in good conscience deny that you’re right. If that’s what it will take to really motivate you, then okay. From now on, you get ten percent of any prize money you earn.”
Bensin couldn’t keep back the grin. “Awesome! When’s the next competition, Coach?”
“They’re holding one in Imperial Park two weeks from yesterday.”
“Then I’m going to win it!”
Coach Steene laughed. “That’s the spirit!”
Bensin still had time to spare when he had finished eating and straightening up the kitchen. “Is it okay if I head off a little early, sir? You said I didn’t have to scrub the floor this morning.”
“True.” Coach Steene looked up from his newspaper again. “When does your gardening job start? Not for a while, right?”
Bensin showed him the schedule. “In about an hour, Coach. But if it’s all right with you, I was going to go ask around in that neighborhood and see if anyone needs any work done tomorrow. You said it would be all right to hire out on my days off.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. Well, I guess there’s no reason why you can’t head out early. Hand me one of the passes and I’ll fill it in for you.”
Bensin did want to arrange work for tomorrow, but he had another priority, too. Sundays were Ellie’s days off.
Both cars were in the driveway when he got there, and he cringed at the knowledge that Mr. Creghorn was home. When Bensin had stopped by last week — a few stolen minutes before or after his hiring out each day, plus Monday when he’d been off — it had only been Mrs. Creghorn, who worked from home on her computer. She wasn’t as strict, and she had let him spend time with his sister in exchange for helping with the dishes or other quick tasks. But what Mr. Creghorn would say was anyone’s guess. It all depended on his mood.
Sure enough, he was the one who answered the door when Bensin knocked. “What are you doing back here?”
“I beg your pardon, sir.” Bensin made sure to keep his eyes respectfully lowered and use his politest voice. “I was wondering if I might be able to visit my sister since it’s her day off.”
The man scowled. “How do I know this isn’t part of another escape attempt? Does your new owner know where you are?”
“Yes, sir. I have permission to be here.” Well, sort of. Bensin showed him his pass.
Mr. Creghorn considered. “Okay, tell you what. Mow the lawn for me first, and if you do a good job I’ll let you see Ellie.”
Bensin hurried through the mowing, occasionally glancing in through the living room window to check the clock on the wall. At this rate he wouldn’t have much time to talk to neighbors about work, but he couldn’t come all the way over here and not visit his sister. She would be so sad if she didn’t get to see him at all today.
Last Monday when he had had plenty of time, she had been busy watching the baby while Mrs. Creghorn worked in her study, so they’d only gotten half an hour together. Bensin had spent the rest of his day off wandering around the neighborhood looking for friends to hang out with, but most slaves got either Saturdays or Sundays off, and it had been a pretty boring day for him. I’ve got to find a regular place where I can hire myself out every Monday. That would be a much better use of his time.
At last he finished with the lawn and stowed the lawnmower in the shed. When he knocked on the front door again, Mr. Creghorn came out and made a big show of checking his work. “All right, I suppose that’s good enough. You’ll have to sit out here with her, though. I don’t want you in the house; you stink.”
Ellie came running out a moment later. “Bensin!” She leaped into his sweaty arms, her collar clanking against his, and he swung her around in a circle. “Oh, Bensin, I miss you so much!”
“I know; you say that every time I come by. Come on, let’s sit down in the shade in the side yard, and you can tell me everything you’ve been doing.”
“I don’t have anything to tell,” she protested as they seated themselves on the grass. “Just that I miss you a lot. Every night me and Bunny cry ’cause we’re so lonely. In the daytime I just take care of Baby Willem; you know that. Oh! He has a new tooth now. He fussed and fussed until it came. But that’s boring.” She peered up at him. “You said you were gonna fight in a contest yesterday. Did you win?”
“No,” Bensin admitted, “not quite. But my new owner is really nice. He doesn’t lash me when I lose like Mr. Creghorn did. Actually, he’s going to take me to buy new clothes and shoes this evening. And you know what he said today? He said that from now on, he’s going to give me money whenever I win!”
“Wow!” Ellie was duly impressed. “What are you gonna buy?”
He couldn’t tell her the details. It was too risky, and she might blab it out if anyone ever questioned her. “It’s a secret,” he whispered in her ear. “But it’s something special for my favorite little sister!”
She giggled. “I know that’s me. What kind of something special? Tell me!”
“Nope. But I will tell you this. Tomorrow is my day off, and I’m going to try to hire out and earn a little money. Not as much as I’ll get next time I win, but that won’t be for at least two more weeks, and I need something in the meantime. Then I’m going to try to get permission to take a few hours off next Sunday — I bet my owner will let me if I get up extra early or trade for part of Monday — and I’ll come hang out with you.” He would try to plan something special to make up for how lonely she had been. “We’ll go to the park and do all sorts of fun things.” If the Creghorns let us.
“Goody!” Ellie clapped her hands. “It’s so boring having a day off when you’re not here. Mrs. Creghorn says I’m too little to go to the park by myself.”
“Well, we’ll have a good time together next week,” Bensin promised. “Get ready for lots of fun.”
The Collar and the Cavvarach Page 11
