Girl Takes Up Her Sword (5 page)
“Michael, that video...” she started. “Emily risked everything for you. It’s incredible.”
“Andie and I owe her
everything
. But it’s no less than I already owed her father.”
“Owing everything to each other, that’s what it is to be a family,” Emily said with a smile.
When she leaned over to kiss her again on the forehead, Connie felt like she’d been baptized.
“And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a sparring class to get ready for.”
Playing with the Security Guards
Everyone else sat in a large circle on the grass or on lawn chairs. Li Li and Stone watched from the patio with Andie and Yuki. The last match of the day, the only one Emily would participate in, against the guy who had won all his previous matches. He stared across his gloves at her, perplexed at the dilemma he found himself in. She was practically the boss’s daughter, and here he was in the ring with her. Could he really hit her without catching hell for it? And if he didn’t try, or at least make it look like he was trying, he’d probably catch hell for that, too.
They all knew she was in seriously good shape. They saw her workout routine: tons of push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups, and she ran forever, like a gazelle. Nobody doubted how tough she was. But was she really a fighter? Or was this just some way of indulging her vanity?
“Don’t be afraid to hit me. I can take it,” she said sweetly. “Or would you like me to put on more pads?”
“C’mon. This is bullshit,” he said dropping his hands in disgust. “You can’t really expect me to hit you for real.”
She took the opportunity to smack him on the nose with a quick jab, not full force, just enough to smart.
“Jerry, if you lower your guard again, I’ll hit you a lot harder. Now show me what you got.”
He was annoyed now. His nose stung, though it probably wasn’t broken. The girl was so much smaller, the whole thing seemed preposterous. He swung a long right hook toward her head. A subtle lean away from his fist and she slapped him a couple of times on the headgear derisively. She was clearly trying to provoke him.
“I know you can do better than that. What exactly do they teach you in the Marines?”
He put on his game face, raised his guard and circled to his right before unleashing a sharp combination: left jab, overhand right followed by a sneaky left hook. These were serious punches. Anyone of them could have laid her out on the grass. But he hoped she would only get a glancing blow from the left hook, his money punch. To his surprise, none made contact. Once again, she leaned out of the way of the jab, ducked under the right and slapped the hook harmlessly across his chest. Before he could untangle himself, she nailed him with a reverse punch to the soft spot just below the center of his ribs, just below the ribs. Staggering backwards, he struggled to catch his breath, and watched helplessly—it felt almost like he was outside his own body—as a crossover side kick struck the same spot. The force of the blow practically lifted him off his feet. Laid out on his back a few feet away, he tried to pull himself together. Her outstretched hand came into focus and he looked up into her eyes.
“You okay, Jerry? I hope I didn’t hit you too hard.” A little dazed, his breathing eased up as he listened to her voice. “You done? Or you wanna try again?” At those words, he picked himself up and stood across the ring from her. “Good. Can we play
for reals
now?”
He laughed.
“Fair enough. I deserved that.”
Marine hand to hand training is quite conservative, much like the Israeli
Krav Maga
. Emphasis on sharp inside punches, a few low front kicks. No long range kicks. Jerry stepped in with a right hand feint, then kicked to her knee as he jabbed to her face. He was sparring
for reals
now. The kick was good, fast. It would have made contact if she hadn’t kicked his shin first, before he could lift it very far. She slapped his jab aside and smacked the side of his headgear with a light backfist as she spun behind him, striking him several times lightly on the back of his head. His shin smarted, but she’d gone easy on him everywhere else. It was like getting spanked in public.
They stood opposite each other again. So far, she’d let him initiate things. He would have preferred responding to an attack. That suited his way of thinking. She seemed to understand this about him, and clearly wanted to show him something. A sharp glance into his eyes and he flinched. A quick, low kick struck him lightly just below the knee. His block got there too late: a roundhouse kick had already tapped him on the side of the head. The delicacy with which the ball of her foot touched his headgear was a gentle mockery.
“Ouch,” said Connie reflexively.
Jerry was confused. Had she really beaten him? She’d “won” all the points. But it was just sparring, and he didn’t believe all these soft touches would mean much in a real fight. He wanted to try again, maybe not worry so much about hitting her. She nodded. He made himself small behind his gloves and circled around to his right. She turned to follow him, but didn’t appear to be giving him her full attention. It seemed like she was more focused on her breathing, as if she were doing yoga. He looked for a way to initiate a combination of kicks and punches. She dropped her shoulder, almost as if to oblige him. It must be a trick. But he couldn’t resist it. He leaned in with a left jab, which would be followed by a sharp kick to her knee and then a right uppercut to catch her chin as she bent to block the kick. He would finish her with the left hook again.
It was a beautiful combination, would be decisive if she allowed him to initiate it. She stepped just inside the jab/front kick pair and nailed him with another reverse punch to the center of his chest. Before he quite knew what was happening, she spun through a series of strikes to his face, throat, arms and chest, all contained completely within the narrow space between his shoulders. More than a dozen strikes landed in the space of a few short seconds. Even with limited force, it was completely bewildering. Each strike set up the next, and blocked any counters from him. “This must be what drowning is like,” he thought dimly. “Nowhere to turn to catch my breath.” He was helpless and completely at her mercy. In the end, he found himself on his back again, contemplating the blue of the sky.
Everyone around the ring was speechless, even Ethan and Connie. Once the spell wore off, Jerry sat up and looked around, agape.
“What the hell just happened?” he demanded. Then, a moment later: “Can you teach me how to do that?”
Everyone else around the ring had the same thought. They all clamored for lessons.
“All right, guys. I can show you the techniques, and you can practice them night and day. But to really get good at them requires something more, and you may not like it.”
She paused knowingly, letting the suspense build. Every eye was fixed on her. Finally she spoke.
“It requires meditation.”
Scattered laughter greeted her pronouncement.
“You gotta be kidding,” said Jerry. “You mean some sort of mystical crap?”
“Yup. That’s exactly what I mean,” she said with a broad smile. She heard scattered groans. “I’ll make you all a deal. I’ll give you hands on training, show you every technique you can manage to learn. If by the end of the summer, none of you can beat me in sparring, you all have to try meditating with me. Do we have a deal?”
A mix of optimism and consternation spread through the staff. They all must have thought they could beat her, at least eventually. But they also worried about the consequences of accepting the bargain in case they couldn’t.
“Oh yeah, and it’ll have to wait until school’s out, ‘cause, you know, I’m just a high school kid.”
She smiled and they all laughed. She clearly knew how to charm them.
“I wish I could be here for this,” Connie observed drily to Ethan.
“You can be, you know,” he said. “You’re always welcome.”
She smiled at him without saying anything.
In Amanda’s Bedroom
“So, what did you want to show me?” asked Melanie Birdwell, lying on the floor with her feet propped up on the bed.
“It’s pretty nasty, a video I got from one of the A/V nerds. You might not want to watch it.”
Amanda Terwilliger could scarcely conceal her eagerness to show it to her best friend. She’d known Melanie since preschool. They’d lived across the street from each other all that time.
Thwock
. Melanie bounced a beach ball off the ceiling.
“Well, if you really don’t want me to see it...” It was only a matter of time before her friend would have to give in. “Why don’t we go down to the mall in Covington?”
“Fine. Here it is.”
She rolled herself off the bed and flipped open her laptop. A moment later a video started up with the familiar question: “Do you know this bitch?” Once she saw the title, Melanie’s expression showed she knew what to expect. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t painful to watch it.
At first you couldn’t really see the girl’s face as she fought off several men in a dark parking lot. As dangerous as they appeared, the violence she unleashed on them was even more shocking. She dodged knives and clubs, smashed knees and elbows, even made them use their weapons on themselves and each other. The whole thing lasted little more than thirty seconds, but when it was over, several men lay on the ground, bodies broken, maimed, one man clawing the pavement, struggling to breathe. The final image was arresting: it showed Emily’s face and the full intensity of her glare, as if her eyes were on fire. It was almost painful to look at.
“It’s like I’ve been trying to tell you, Mel. She’s some sort of freak, and dangerous, too. I mean, just look at her.”
Amanda’s eyes pleaded with Melanie to kick out this interloper, to seal her off from their friendship. Her resentment was palpable. The room practically resounded with it. Of course, it was easy to see envy tagging along, too. Emily was a strange girl, and a bit scary, and that made her sort of fascinating.
Melanie’s own feelings about Emily and the video were much simpler. A tear trembled in her eye, trying to break out onto her cheek. She said nothing for a long moment. When Amanda opened her mouth to say something else, she held up her hand and searched for the power of speech.
“I was there, Amanda,” she finally managed to say, in a voice incongruously small for someone so tall.
“What?! You... Wh... How?”
It was Amanda’s turn to be dumbstruck. Melanie gathered herself for what was sure to be a grueling explanation.
“We went down to the lake one night a coupla weeks ago, the six of us. You know, pizza and stuff. We went swimming, too. It was really fun, until these bikers from across the state line showed up, a whole bunch of ‘em. And they were looking for trouble.”
She stopped to catch her breath. Amanda’s eyes were wide as saucers.
“Emily protected us. She protected me. If she hadn’t been there....” There was no way to finish that sentence. “I was terrified. I threw up when I got home. And I feel so sad for her. Can you imagine having to do stuff like that? You have no idea what it cost her. But she did it for us.”
The two of them sat in silence. Amanda cast her eyes all around the room, anywhere but in her friend’s face. Melanie reached out to touch her cheek, but she pulled away.
“You’re my oldest friend, my best friend. Nothing can change that. We’ve shared too much together. But you should give Emily a chance. She’s a good person. I promise.”
“I... I... I can’t see... I’m...,” she stammered out, unable even to form a sentence. She looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry, Mel. Can we talk about something else?”
The rest of the day went more or less like that. Lots of cheerful chatter interspersed with tense, overwrought moments. Melanie extolled Wayne’s virtues as a dancer, and Amanda scoffed.
“He really is a good dancer.”
“Not with those feet. They’re like water skis.”
“Well, I just like holding on to him. It’s such a relief to find someone the right height.”
“I hope that’s not his only qualification. You remember how fat he was in junior high?”
“Yeah, but that was after his father died. I think you should cut him a little slack there.”
“You really like him?” Melanie nodded vigorously, giggling with a little blush on her cheeks. “...and it’s not just ‘cause he’s tall?”
“You like Steve, right? What’s so great about him?”
“Oh, come on. There’s like no comparison.”
“Well, I know he likes you, a lot. I mean that toast at the prom was so sweet.”
“And he’s going to Charlottesville on a baseball scholarship. And he can always fall back on his dad’s business if that doesn’t work out.”
“That’s great. I think we’re all going to Charlottesville. You, me, Steve, Wayne, Emily...”
Amanda cut her off with a look.
“She’s going, too?”
“Yeah, I guess. She turned down the Naval Academy, and a couple of Ivies. I think she wants to be near her mom.”
Amanda took a moment to digest this information.
“C’mon. Let’s get outta here, do something,” she said.
“I’m kinda hungry. Wanna go to the diner in Goshen?”
Amanda phoned Steve to ask him to meet them there. It was one of those retro ‘50’s places, with old car paraphernalia on the walls. Amanda had a shake and Melanie had the clam boat. By the time Steve got there, they were picking over the last of a plate of fries. He ordered a BLT and another shake.
“How come Wayne’s not here?” he asked. “I figured this would be just his kind of place.”
“Yeah, perfect for a pig,” Amanda snorted without looking at Melanie.
“I dunno. I kinda wish I knew him better,” Steve said. “Like, why didn’t he ever try out for one of the teams?”
Melanie grinned at this suggestion.
“I don’t think sports are his thing,” she said. “But he’s really good at karate.”
Amanda looked like she wanted to poke some more fun at him, but the smile on Melanie’s face made her bite her tongue.
“Yeah, I guess that’s how all those guys got to be friends,” Steve conjectured. “Emily’s the real puzzle in that bunch, you know, really mysterious. It’s like she appeared out of nowhere. For years she just this cipher, hardly knows anyone. Then suddenly she’s the talk of the school. What’s she like anyway?”
This new topic clearly left Amanda in some discomfort, which her friend could hardly help noticing.
“I hear you got a scholarship to Charlottesville,” Melanie said, changing the subject.
“Yeah. Baseball. Coach said I’ll probably be in the starting rotation my first year. What about you, Mel?”
“It looks like we’re all going there,”
“Even Emily,” Amanda grumped.
Steve looked confused.
“Is there something going on between you and her that I don’t know about? I mean, I know there was that sext of hers that got sent around. Is that what’s bugging you?”
Melanie looked long and hard across the table, as if to say “Are you gonna straighten this out, or shall I?” Amanda swallowed, and sighed.
“There’s nothing. Mel likes her, so I guess I have to like her, too.”
Melanie looked hardly satisfied with this statement, but let it drop anyway.
“It’s getting late and I still have some homework. Can we head back now?”
On the ride back, Amanda said nothing and her friend just stared at the dashboard. The weight of her disapproval about the sext business was crushing. It was a nasty bit of duplicity. Amanda manufactured the whole thing to embarrass Emily, and Melanie went along with it at first. She knew Melanie still loved her despite it all. But somehow that made everything a hundred times worse. Amanda felt the burden of her error. She just couldn’t see a way to extricate herself, or Melanie, from the shame of it. And whenever she turned her mind to it, all she could see was Emily’s face, which had become the living symbol of her frustration.
