In a blink, the instructor turned to face in the opposite direction. I followed his movements and pivoted on the line, concentrating on my weight on my back foot and the rotation in my waist. Rooke turned too tightly, too reliant on his upper body. He tripped over his own feet and toppled to the ground, cursing at himself as he landed.
I grinned. “I don’t think you’re supposed to leave your circle.”
He grunted as he pushed back up to his feet. “You’ve studied Tai Chi. You have an advantage.”
I suppose to some people, Baguazhang circle walking seemed similar to Tai Chi. While they were both internal martial arts, circle walking was faster and had several sharp movements meant to condition the mind to anticipate sudden change and to remain balanced when met by an opposing force.
Speaking of an opposing force, I glanced at Rooke.
“This is a completely different form,” I said as I walked along the circle’s outline, mimicking the movements of the instructor. “Besides, I think it’s best if you don’t talk during the exercise.”
“If I’d known that, I would have practiced this with you years ago.”
I dropped my arms and started marching toward him. “Say that to my face.”
He pointed at the ground and wagged his finger at me. “I don’t think you’re supposed to leave your circle.”
I halted at the edge of my projected ring and snarled at him. He grinned.
Every night that week, we practiced together, against the setting sun. At some point, every night, Rooke stumbled, tripped, or fell out of his circle. I knew why he was falling. He was holding himself too rigidly, both in his body and in his mind.
“You know,” I began, “in some parts of China, they practice these walking steps for years before they ever get into the actual martial art.”
Rooke dusted himself off. “Does that mean I have to stand this close to you for months on end?”
“You’d have to stop falling down first.”
He stepped back into his circle and took up the pose of the instructor. After a few steps, he fell back into rhythm. “Are we really just going to walk around this circle for months?”
I chuckled. “No. We’ll move on as soon as you learn where your feet go.”
“I still think it would be better to do this virtually.”
“Virtual isn’t real. It doesn’t have consequences. That’s the point.”
After the lesson, we sat on the grass together, listening to the virtual instructor explain the concept of Bagua and its importance to understanding the martial art. The Bagua was an octagonal figure, with a yin yang symbol in the center. Altogether, it was meant to represent the fundamental concepts of reality.
“Do you understand this?” Rooke asked, leaning toward me.
“Kind of,” I said. “I think.”
He chuckled. “Well, that makes one of us.”
He wasn’t getting it, and I knew how Rooke preferred to learn. I retrieved the hardcover book from the training room and sat on the grass with him. I opened the book to the Bagua symbol.
“There are eight sides, indicating eight interrelated concepts. Each one is represented by an element: Heaven in the south, then marsh, fire, thunder, wind, water, mountain, and Earth in the north.” I pointed at the bottom of the symbol.
“Why are you saying north? You’re pointing at the bottom.”
“North is south,” I told him. “It’s reversed.”
“Then why don’t they just say south?”
I glanced down at the book and shrugged. “Apparently, it’s easier to understand . . . if you weren’t raised in the West.”
“Great.”
“Hey, that’s me, too.”
Rooke glanced down at the symbol again. “What’s the point?”
“They’re opposing forces. Heaven and Earth. Fire and water. In the middle, you find balance.” I traced my finger over the yin yang in the center. “Baguazhang is about learning to repel external opposing forces—
“—by being balanced on the inside,” he finished.
I smiled.
A distant look filled his eyes, and he glanced out at the sky. Rooke had always been an admirer of Eastern philosophy, so I didn’t think it would take him long to catch on. Hopefully, he’d realize the reason he was struggling with circle walking so much was because of his own lack of internal balance.
Rooke turned back to me, flipped through a few pages of the book, and stopped on a picture of the Wudang Mountains, where Baguazhang and other forms of martial arts are said to have originated.
“Have you ever been to China?” he asked.
“No.”
He considered that. “Do you have family over there?”
“Distant relatives, I guess. My father came over with his parents when he was a teenager.”
He glanced down at the picture again and trailed a finger across it. “Would you like to go?”
I shrugged. “I suppose.” A smile spread across my face. “Are you looking to take a girl, sometime?”
“A girl? I don’t think Hannah would be interested.”
I snapped the book shut and smacked him with it.
“How’s this for outside my circle?” I asked, hitting him again. “You know, these exercises are supposed to prepare you for any sudden and abrasive attack.”
“Abrasive attacks?” He held up his forearms to shield himself from my assault. “So, even the monks of the Wudang Mountains know about your mouth?”
He laughed as I hit him again.
I pulled back and rested on my haunches. Hearing him laugh warmed my insides. It was like his problems were retreating, and the friend I once knew was slowly making appearances again. We needed him to keep pushing, keep trying to get better, and it was important he realized that.
“This week has been difficult for the team,” I told him. “Especially since you’re not in the virtual simulations with us. We miss you in there. We’re not really Defiance without you.”
He looked to the distance again and didn’t reply. I wasn’t sure if he had nothing to say, or if the situation was just too much for him. It could have been either. After it was silent for about a minute, I asked, “Same time tomorrow?”
He nodded but kept his gaze fixed on the horizon. I sighed inwardly but didn’t let my frustration show on my face. Rooke was a locked box at times, and getting upset wouldn’t help him open up. Only patience. If anything, that’s what this man excelled at. Testing my patience. At least, what little of it I had in the first place.
I pushed up to my feet and headed for the house. A few feet away from the door, he spoke.
“I feel like I’m angry all the time.”
I halted. He was talking. I turned back slowly and waited for him to keep going. Instead, he turned his gaze to the ground and said nothing. If he really did have that much pent-up anger, then it, too, was contributing to why he’d been falling and tripping so much during the exercise. It also meant that if he was going to get better at Baguazhang, he’d have to learn to let go.
“All the time?” I prodded.
Eventually, he nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I smile sometimes. I laugh at things. But underneath it, there’s this rage that never really goes away.” He plucked a few blades of grass before finally looking up to meet my eyes. “Is that what it’s like to be you?”
A hint of a grin tugged at his lips.
Testing patience 101.
“Am I angry all the time?” I considered it. “Only when you’re in the same room.”
He chuckled, and it left a hollow feeling in my stomach. That laughter coming from his throat wasn’t genuine but merely a reaction to the situation. I did know what it was like to be angry all the time. I’d found peace by meditating, embracing everything about myself, and focusing my life on my goals and the fate of my team. Managing my te
mper was still something I worked on constantly, but I was becoming less and less the angry teenager I once was. I couldn’t imagine going backwards and undoing all the work I’d already done to get to where I was now. That was exactly what Rooke was going through, and if he needed me, I was going to go through it with him.
“You’ve been here before,” I reminded him. “You pulled through this before, and you will now.”
He stared at the ground some more and shook his head. “It’s different this time.”
I took a step toward him. “How so?”
“Last time I got clean, it was because I saw someone die from their abuse. That was the ultimate wake-up call. But now I’m pulling at straws. It’s like I don’t have enough reason to stop.” He stood and walked up to me until I could see the amber flecks in his eyes. “It’s like there’s this tug-of-war going on inside me, and I’m not winning.”
My heart twisted, and I couldn’t keep his gaze. I looked down to his chest, watching his breaths move in and out. I didn’t know what to say to him. He had helped me out of this exact situation, but I never thought the roles would be reversed, and I’d be the one reaching out to him.
“How about this?” I began, meeting his eyes again. “If you can’t get it under control, then it could be the rest of us watching you die.”
He blanched. His jaw went slack, his eyes went wide, and all the color drained from his face. Guess he hadn’t really considered that a possibility until I’d said it. It wasn’t a surprise, either. Most addicts thought they had things under control, that their addiction would never kill them. I didn’t think Rooke was that far gone, and I’ll admit, it was a bit overdramatic of me to say. But it might have been the slap in the face he needed. Judging by his expression, the idea had frightened him more than anything I’d seen from him before.
“The team needs you,” I said, swallowing thick. “I need you.”
I wasn’t saying it to be petty or guilt-trip him into recovery. It was simply the truth. I needed my friend. I needed the person I leaned on when things got tough. Judging by the insanity of this tournament, I’d need it a lot in the weeks to come. Part of me wondered if that was selfish, that I needed him to be okay for my benefit. But honestly, it wasn’t just me. It was for him, and the team. Besides, I think when it came to matters of your friends and their well-being, it was okay to be a little selfish and hope that they got better, so you could enjoy the good old times again.
The good old times. With Rooke, that included sneaking away from the team and the clubs to train with bo staffs, geek out over classic video game sessions, and jab at each other both on and off the mats—not all that different from tonight. Maybe we were closer to normal than I thought. Maybe soon, things would be back to the way they used to be. At least, I could hope.
My emotions swelled up at the thought. I backed up a step and shoved down the lump in my throat.
“Tomorrow?” I asked, keeping my voice strong.
He nodded. “Every night.”
My heart twisted a little. I was getting through to him, and he was starting to respond. I was enjoying this, too. Circle walking at sunset, in the middle of a garden, while reconnecting with an old friend . . .
Rooke’s gaze left my eyes, traveled down my face to my lips, and hovered there. My throat went dry.
Well, hello spark. Good to know you’re still there.
I bit my bottom lip.
“I . . . uh,” I stuttered, “have owner stuff to do.” I backed up a few more steps, hoping I was headed in the direction of the house. “If you need to talk—”
“I’ll come find you.”
We locked eyes, and I kept his gaze until I slammed my back into the closed garden door—so hard that the glass rattled in the frame. Rooke pressed his lips together to keep from laughing at me. Heat flashed across the back of my neck and around my heart. It was strange to feel both embarrassed and happy at the same time, but the chemistry between us was becoming more and more like it always had been, and that was worth my making a fool of myself. If it meant things were improving for him—and by extension, the team—I wouldn’t have cared if I’d walked straight into a brick wall.
I slid the door open and disappeared inside. As I shut the door behind me, I glanced back at Rooke, to see him gathering up the tablet and gear for the night. His movements were calmer than they had been. The tension in his arms and shoulders was fading. Even his coloring was better than when he’d first come back to the team. He was improving, but the only people who knew it were in this house. I’d been ignoring the tabloids all week and shielded the team from the gossip as much as I could. But as team owner, it was also my responsibility to maintain our image and remain informed on what the press was printing about us every week. I’d put it off long enough.
Time to check out the damage.
• • •
I retreated to my office and collapsed into my chair. My fingernails tapped against the keyboard, and my stomach went on spin cycle. I was a few clicks away from a world of gossip and hate, where no one was who they said they were and everyone put on as much of a show as we did. Almost as if a parallel universe existed behind the screen. This was my job now. Whatever they were saying about my team, I had to face this head-on.
I brought up the gossip channel’s live stream. It didn’t take long to find what I was looking for. On the screen, three hosts of Hypnotic sat on a couch as usual, except their former topic of discussion—The Wall—had been replaced by my teammate.
“The tournament isn’t even under way yet, and the drama is already kicking up. Reports are coming in that a member of Team Defiance failed his drug test, and that means they’ll be heading into the first round of the tournament shorthanded.”
The second host spoke up. “Let’s talk about Rooke for a second. For any of the viewers out there who haven’t heard yet—”
The third cut him off. “If you haven’t heard yet? The only people who haven’t heard this don’t have wi-fi. That leaves . . . the Mars colony.”
They laughed. My fists clenched, and I tucked them under the table to prevent them from damaging the screen. Luckily, the whole world didn’t really care about shit like this.
Did they?
The second host continued on, still chuckling. “He’s the one who failed his drug test. Now, I heard he’s already been kicked off the team.”
“No. Our sources said he checked into a rehab facility.”
I groaned and nearly smacked my forehead on the screen. Now they were just making up all-out lies. He wasn’t off the team, and he wasn’t in rehab. He was here with us. It shouldn’t have surprised me, though. Gossip sites made up things about celebrities all the time, and gamers were just their newest source to exploit.
“Really?” the other host on the screen continued. “We just received a photo of him out at a club.”
I went numb. No, no, no. Rooke was just here. Don’t tell me he went out at some point. We’d been together after supper, practicing in the garden. But every moment I was plugged into the virtual world with the team was a moment I didn’t know where he was. I buried my face in my hands, peering at the screen through the tiny slits between my fingers. A photo flashed across the screen of a man with dark hair sniffing something off a club table, but the face was so blurry that he might as well have been Bigfoot.
I exhaled, and my body nearly turned to jelly. Thank God. It wasn’t him. But someone would think so. The Internet would be flooded with that photo within the hour.
“This is nothing but a marketing ploy by Team Defiance. Frankly, how did they even get into this tournament?”
My fists clenched so hard my knuckles could have turned to diamonds. Asshole. I’d never mess with my teammates’ lives for the sake of publicity. We were in the tournament because we deserved it. We’d earned it.
Had we?
My fists unclenched, a
nd I sighed. Hell, even I wasn’t so sure what we were doing here.
“Kali?”
This time, it was my heart that clenched. Hard.
I knew that voice.
After mentally kicking myself in the head several times, I slow-motion turned to find Rooke standing beside me. Damn it. I’d been so focused on the computer, I hadn’t even heard him enter the room.
He didn’t meet my gaze. His eyes were locked on the screen, and his jaw was tight.
“I have to know what they’re saying,” I explained before he could say anything. “This is my job now.”
He scoffed. “This is your job?” He nodded at the screen. “To watch the gossip channels?”
“To protect the team.”
“The team.” He scoffed again. “Are you sure this isn’t about you? Maybe you want to know what people are saying because it reflects back on you as much as anyone else.”
“That’s not even close—”
“Bullshit. If you were really concerned about me, you wouldn’t have reported the test.”
I flew out of my chair and slammed a hand on my desk. “Do you even hear yourself? This isn’t you. Last year, you never would have accepted this from yourself or anyone else. Where’s the man who led me back to the straight path?”
His gaze flicked to the gossip channel, still playing in the background. “He’s in front of you. Not on television.”
I blinked and didn’t know how to process that. There was a shade of his true self standing in front of me, and even more so when we’d been out in the garden. But what was in the media was partly true, too. He had slipped. He had failed his drug test. That was as true as anything else.
I glanced at the screen and shook my head. “Look, you can be angry all you want, but you’re the one who got high. We’re heading into the biggest tournament in the world with only four players, and that’s one hundred percent on you.”
He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.
“No. You’re done talking.” The words shot out of my mouth like each was a bullet. Rooke took half a step back and blinked, as if I’d slapped him. “If you can’t pull your shit together, you’re off the team. I don’t care if we have to play the entire tournament with four players. I don’t deserve this, and the rest of the team sure as fuck doesn’t, either.”
Gauntlet Page 14
