I jumped. I never used to be so jumpy, but ever since that night, it was an unfortunate side effect. Lord only knew how long the small figure had been standing beside me before she said anything. Jenny, the self-defense instructor, looked more casual than she had during our class as she stood next to me now, arms clasped behind her back and hair pulled up into a messy haphazard bun.
“You did?” I asked. That was strange, because I didn’t know I’d be back until I actually was. I shrugged. “The Self-defense class is a five-week course, so I guess it’s not rocket science.”
“Nah,” Jenny shook her head. “SD is cool and all, useful too, but you strike me as someone who needs to hit something.”
“Oh goodie, glad to know the feral vibe I’ve been going for is finally paying off,” I laughed.
To my surprise, she laughed too instead of looking at me like I was crazy. I kept my attention on the board, leaning into it as I scanned over the options. “What’s with this bulletin board, anyway?”
Another laugh. “Each instructor gets to make their own postings. That’s why they’re all so different.”
I nodded. “Whose is this, the company dog’s?”
“Thatwould be Jim, the MMA guy,” she said with a knowing smile. Jim must get a lot of comments like that.
I bit my lip. “And which one is yours? Other than the self-defense one, I mean.”
The knowing smile stayed right where it was as she reached forward and landed a pointing finger over the top of a black and red flyer that read:Boxing Lessons! Beginner, Moderate, and Hard available.
Boxing, huh?
Electricity fired along my fingertips as I itched to take it from the bulletin board. But I didn’t want to seem too eager. I had no idea what it would even mean to take boxing lessons. What skill level beginner even entailed.
Would I look stupid if I showed up with no prior experience? What if I didn’t like it? Would I seem indecisive if I jumped ship right away to a different class? Would I even be able to do it? I wasn’t having a very good track record with skill lately.
“Ever thought about it before?” she asked, breaking me out of my spiral.
“What?”
“Boxing.”
“Never.” I shook my head.Until now.
As if she was reading my mind, she asked, “Thinking about it now?”
I hesitated, then thought, what’s the point in lying. “Kind of.”
Jenny reached forward and tore her sign off the bulletin board. Turning to me for the first time since she appeared, I found that her face was warm. Just as warm as the front desk lady’s. I liked her too, and not just because of her hair.
She reached between us, handing me the flyer. When I closed my fingers around it, she said. “We can start as soon as you want.”
* * *
“I'm warning you now, you’re going to be shadow sequencing for weeks,” Jenny (my new boxing instructor) said from the other side of the room.
It was early morning and I was back at Counter Strike for the third time in three days. The fifth in five if you counted those times I hadn’t come in. This time I was dressed in a pair of leggings I’d never actually worked out in and an old top from when I played sports in high school.
“You told me that yesterday,” I said, but it was a mistake to speak while trying to remember which number I was on. It messed me up completely and after a growl, I started again from the top. I could hear a chuckle from across the room, but I ignored it.
After Jen had handed me the flyer the other day, I’d almost agreed right away. But then I remembered my wrist. Looking at her I screwed my mouth to the side before reluctantly handing it back to her. “I can’t hit anything. I’m in PT for a broken hand.”
“Why?” she’d asked.
“For hitting something,” I answered truthfully.
And just like that, we’d made eye contact, both breaking into matching grins. She chuckled and reached between us a second time, handing the flyer right back.
“You don’t have to worry about your hand. You’ll be in the shadows for weeks before you even touch a bag.”
