The Academy - Forgiveness and Permission (Year One, Book Four) (28 page)

“It’s awkward,” I said.

He blinked at me. “What?”

“It doesn’t feel natural. I think it’s because I’m shorter. I’m on my tiptoe trying to get close and I feel like I’m about to fall over when I kick before I get there.”

“It’s because you’re doing it slow,” he said, the power he had slipping into his voice. “Do it faster. You might be on your toe, but if you strike quickly, you can put your foot down again. You want to catch the person off guard, not try to warn him off by going slow.”

No warnings. I tried a kick again, a little faster but still wobbling on my toe.

“Faster.”

I did it again, he blocked it.

“Faster.”

I chuffed, doing it again. He forced me to repeat it several times, occasionally popping me on the leg when I was too slow. By then, I was building up a light sweat. Swinging punches was tough.

“Good,” he said. “Nathan’s turn.”

Nathan jumped up from the floor coming over to us. “About time.”

“Sang, attack Nathan.”

“But ...”

“Now. Hit him.”

The order seemed to roll off of his tongue so easily that it struck me. This was Academy training. The realization sent jabs of excitement through my heart. He’d told me before he didn’t want me in the Academy, and here he was barking orders at me like he did when they were working. Is this what it would be like? Is this what I thought I wanted? They weren’t always fighting, I knew, but something Derrick had told me the other day came back to me. They were always working. I’d noticed that, too. They were always moving forward, and now I was rolling with them as they were trying to catch me up to speed.

I struck out at Nathan’s stomach, almost as slow as I’d done with Kota at first. Nathan snatched my hand by the wrist, tugged and let go and sent me stumbling.

“You’re too slow, Peanut.” He stood by casually, his arms at his sides.

“Do it again,” Kota demanded.

I tried kicking him. Nathan cupped a hand under my calf and yanked, sending me to my knee before letting go.

“Not so hard, Nathan.”

“She’s being soft.”

Kota took my hand, helping me up. “Watch this, Sang,” he said. He approached Nathan in a casual stance. He started with slow strikes. “Hit here in the solar plexus first. When he drops his chest forward,” he did this, demonstrating and with Nathan pantomiming being hit, “grab his neck, lift your knee.” He demonstrated kneeing him in the face. “If he’s still up, try kicking him the crotch or punch him in the throat. But first you have to get faster at hitting him with that first strike. The first strike is the most important for you. They can easily take you down with one hit, so you’ve got to make yours count.”

I sighed, pushing a palm across my forehead to clear away some sweat. I stood again in front of Nathan. Nathan’s blue eyes held that serious expression.

I bit back my resistance and tried a swift punch toward his stomach. He stopped my fist, but didn’t grab for it again, instead he lurched forward like he’d done with Kota. I pushed his head down, bringing my knee up. He blocked it easily with an arm. This time he popped me in the thigh. “Too slow.”

I grunted. He stood up again and I did all the same moves, trying to go faster. This time when I almost kneed his face, he blocked but backed off like he’d been hurt. I kicked out, aiming for his groin and he stopped it, grabbing my leg but held it instead of yanking.

“Better,” Kota said. “You’ll get better with practice. We should set up a training schedule.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Nathan said.

I’d have to do this all the time?

“Let’s try something else,” Kota said. “Let’s work on getting you out of sticky situations. This type of practice we’ve been doing is nice if the guy is standing still in front of you, but more than likely that won’t be the case.” He nodded toward Nathan.

Nathan approached Kota from behind, wrapping his arms around Kota’s shoulders and pinning Kota’s biceps down to his chest. Memories of Silas doing something similar to me, asking me what I’d do in a situation like that flooded back to me.

“If you can’t get away,” Kota said, “and they grab you, what do you do?”

“Stomp on a foot?”

Nathan laughed behind Kota.

Kota grinned. “That works in movies, maybe. It can work but there’s too many circumstances, like your aim, his ability to move his feet and depends on what type of shoes the guy is wearing and how tall he is. If you have to fight, it’s risky to waste time on stuff that might not work.”

“What do I do?” I asked, unsure how to figure this one out. He had his arms pinned. If the feet stomp didn’t work, what was left?

Kota smiled at me. He raised his arms up, grabbing over his shoulder for Nathan’s head. Kota shoved his body forward, yanking, and flipped Nathan over his shoulder. Nathan crashed, sprawled on his back at Kota’s feet.

“Wow,” I said.

Nathan laughed, coughed and sat up. “Fun times.”

“The head, if you can reach it, is a good place to start,” Kota said.

A buzzing noise sounded. We all reacted at once. There were cell phones in the corner of the shed on the floor. Nathan got up, crawling over to it. “Aw shit. It’s my dad. Hang on guys,” he said. He got up, hopped out of the shed toward the pool to answer his phone.

The call surprised me. Nathan’s father. Nathan had said he was mean. He was never there so to me it was almost like he didn’t even exist. I wondered what he would have thought of me and Silas and North sleeping over, or how a lot of my clothes that I hid from my sister were in Nathan’s closet.

“Come on, Sang,” Kota said, dragging me out of my thoughts. “Let’s practice.” He curled his fingers at me.

I approached him, unsure of what to do. He twirled his hand, indicating that I should turn around. I spun on my heels, exposing my back to him. His hand clutched my side to pull me into him.

My core quaked under his touch. I knew I probably wasn’t supposed to, but my mind drifted from thinking about self-defense to solely about Kota. The scent of sweet spices from his body drifted to my nose and my heart thundered.

He slipped his hand across my stomach, and his other arm wrapped around my shoulders, holding on to me. His breath fell against my hair. “When someone has you like this,” he said, “do what you can to grab at the head. Aim for the ears so you get a good grip. Try it with me.”

I forced out a slow breath, lifting my arms up and feeling for the sides of his face. I felt the shorter strands of his neatly trimmed brown hair against his scalp by his ears. I cupped my hands there.

“Good,” he said. He shifted behind me, bringing his powerful chest against my back. “From here, you want to push back with your hips.” His hand slid down from my stomach, over my side and to my hip.

My fingers moved of their own will, stroking at a spot behind his ear.

A very short, very deep start to something like a growl escaped his mouth. The hand on my hip clutched tighter. “Focus, Sang,”

His strong hands and commanding tone sent my mind spiraling out of control. I admired the way he took over situations, but it never made me so excited before. “I’m trying,” I breathed, but my tone revealed way more than I could say out loud. I was trying, but I was failing fast.

He inhaled sharply behind me, enough that his chest pressed harder to my back. Another spark shot through my body. My fingers traced back up along behind his ear at his scalp.

His head lowered, and he exhaled against my neck. His nose traced against the crook by my shoulder. “Sang ...”

“Kota,” I whispered, helpless and drowning.

He released my hip, his fingers trailing across toward my stomach, gripping lightly below my belly button.

His touch drew me back until my butt met his groin. He froze there, his body warming mine. His fingertips keeping me in place.

What were we doing? He’d never held me like that before. Memories of the almost-kiss from his car, and his nose nuzzling me at the football game returned. I wanted to say it felt wrong to do this, but I couldn’t, because I didn’t feel wrong at all. My heart ached thinking that Nathan could come in and spot us at any time, about North who admitted he wanted me for himself, and Silas saying he’d like me to be his girlfriend, not to mention the others.

The guilty thoughts slipped away as his nose traced up along my neck, stopping right behind my ear. “I can’t ... I’m not supposed to ...”

My eyes widened, staring off at the opposite wall. Did he think the same things? In my surprise, my fingers shifted down behind his ears. “Supposed to what?” I whispered.

His lips traced the back of my ear. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he breathed. “I’m not supposed to go this fast. Every time I’m around you I want to touch you and I shouldn’t. I don't want to scare you, Sang.”

My mind went blank, but the words slipped out and I didn’t know what I was saying until they were out. “I’m not scared.” Total lie. I had no idea what was happening. At the same time, my fingers massaged at his scalp, in what almost felt like a caress. I was afraid to move, afraid to put my arms down. I didn’t want to break the moment.

He sucked in another breath, clutched me once more and stepped back, wrenching himself away. When I turned, he was facing the opposite wall, fists clenched and stuffed against his thighs. His shoulders rose and fell with his heavy breathing.

I wasn’t sure what to do. Was I wrong? My body trembled at his words and the warmth I still felt when he was holding me. Why was this so complicated? How had he become my friend and in the next moment I was feeling things I was positive I shouldn’t be feeling. Was he fighting the same thing?

My mind was plagued with the guilt of six other boys who also made me feel the same way. Every time I got close to any of them, it felt like quicksand swallowing me up with the heaviness of guilt I felt for wanting to do these things with them and not wanting to let go of any of them. And I could never tell them. It wasn’t normal. They wouldn’t understand.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

He spun around, his green eyes flashing from under his glasses. The look had my knees buckling slightly and I took a step back to reclaim my balance.

He stepped forward, closing the space between us. He cupped my cheeks in his hands

He brought his nose over mine, and he rubbed. He slid it back and forth. He broke away, still cupping my face.

“You’re not sorry,” he said.

My mouth fell open. Of course I was! Or wasn’t I? Maybe he was right. I couldn’t deny that even now I was thinking of what his kiss felt like, yearning to try it out, silently pleaded that he would. I felt guilty, but I still felt helpless to stop the feelings bubbling inside of me. I pressed them down, trying to smother them, but they were still there, waiting to be explored.

Nathan’s voice drifted to us as he spoke on the phone, cutting through the silence that fell between us. Nathan was cursing, practically yelling.

Kota sighed, looking pained and released me. “Hang on. Stay right here,” he said, and he crossed the floor to the door of the shed, jumping out and half jogging to Nathan.

I froze to the spot, obeying his command.

––––––––

W
hen Nathan got off the phone, they spent time with me teaching me how to flip someone over. It was amusing to me to flip Nathan and Kota over at different intervals. I couldn’t imagine doing it to anyone in real life but knowing I could left me feeling a little more confident about future school fights, if there were any.

A couple of hours later, I’d washed again and put on a fresh blouse and skirt. They dressed in jeans and button up collar shirts. Kota’s was white with pale blue stripes and buttoned formally, and Nathan’s a solid deep red color, all of the buttons undone to reveal the white T-shirt underneath.

Kota said the lunch crowd at the diner should have thinned out. Nathan locked up the house and we cut through Nathan’s backyard, to the woods behind the house. Kota held open the gate and we found a path that led toward the diner.

“I still can’t believe they got it started so quickly,” I said, walking between Kota and Nathan through the woods.

“If they took a long time, it’s a waste of money,” Kota said. “The longer you put it off, there’s no customers to bring in an income. Uncle knows what he’s doing.”

I sputtered. “Uncle?”

“Mr. Taylor. We all call him Uncle. It’s what he wants to be called.”

“What’s he like?”

Nathan laughed. “Eccentric is probably the kindest term to use.”

Kota rolled his eyes, nudging at the bridge of his glasses with a forefinger. “He’s not that bad.”

“Uh huh,” Nathan said, kicking a rock from the path. “He’s not bad. He’s just crazy.”

When we got to the end of the path and the diner loomed in front of us, I fell behind Kota and Nathan. The old church building had been repainted in a rich deep blue and the doors and trim were painted a fresh white. The scraggly dead trees were replaced by rows of exquisite rose bushes. The parking lot’s gravel was smoothed out a little, and there were about a dozen cars parked. I recognized North’s Jeep and wondered if Luke drove it into work today.

A red neon sign hovered over the front above the door: Bob’s Diner.

“Is his name Bob?” I asked.

“No,” Nathan said.

“Then why ...”

“Easy to remember, or that’s what he said. It’s best not to ask,” Nathan said, grinning. He reached back, taking my hand and pulled me along. “Come on.”

Kota held open the door and Nathan let go of my hand. I stepped inside. There was an arrow pointing to the left, directing to the dining room. The wall itself had a mural depicting various diner styles blending into each other. There was a scene set up like a 50s diner, and it was followed by one from the 60s and 70s, on up to one that looked a little more modern, with people sitting at booths or on stools near a counter. There were depictions of food being served and happy faces.

Nathan smirked. “Gabriel went all out, didn’t he?”

My mouth popped open, motioning to the walls. “He did this?”

“He designed it,” Kota said, coming up to stand behind me, gazing at the wall. “I think he had a little help setting it up.”