Page 40 of Beyond The Maples
"You better make your face less..." I do a circular motion, referencing her whole face.
"What is wrong with my face?!" she scowls at me, clearly offended.
Leo pops up at that exact moment, cutting in. "You wear every emotion on your face. When you think someone is dumb as a rock, it's written all over your expressions. You don't even have to talk. It's quite adorable. But only because you actually like me," Leo says, grinning, bopping her on the nose with his finger playfully. She bats him away and blinks at him, annoyed.
"That's not the only issue." He smiles coyly. "You're far too beautiful to put people at ease. You are like the sun, dear Farra, beautiful, but hard to stare directly at, ya know?"
Farra scoffs at him, but it's half hearted. Leo's insult-laced compliments are oddly difficult to be mad at.
"He's not wrong. You are a beautiful star, my friend," I add, smirking unhelpfully.
"Got it, got it, somehow make my face less appealing while also showing no emotion. I'm on it."
Now it's her turn to roll her eyes before she jogs away, throwing us a vulgar gesture with her hand, using more enthusiasm than usual. I chuckle.
"Who are we spying on, anyway?" Leo asks.
"We're notspying,we're just working on getting to know Tarius better. Farra and I can't get a good read on him." I glance over at Tarius, who is still standing there awkwardly, watching people run.
"Oh him? He's harmless. Just poor people skills, is all," Leo replies confidently. My brows furrow as I think it through.
We start running then, and I mull it over. Maybe Leo's right, and we have nothing to worry about. I'm not sure Leo's the best judge of character, but maybe I'm underestimating him. I mentally roll through all my little interactions with Tarius, and my gut says he's probably right.
My friends quickly lap me, and I curse at them as they do. But I keep going, vowing at some point I'll keep up.
Pain radiates down my arm as I block another attack from Berkley, who has quickly become my favorite sparring partner. Time seems to move quickly here. As another week of classes, testing, and training come to an end, I must admit this is my favourite part of the week.
I never have to worry about hurting his feelings or damaging his ego, and I don't particularly feel bad when I land a solid punch. Especially when he looks at me with a hint of pride in his crinkled eyes. I just lose myself to the rhythm of fists and blocks. A hand flies towards my face, causing me to duck and my muscles scream at me as I barrel towards his middle. I revel in the mental game we play on the mat. There's something exhilarating about the anticipation. He comes at me again as I go under, my leg jutting out behind his own as I wrap my arm around his chest, pushing, sending him toppling to the ground roughly. He grunts, and I worry for a second that I've actually hurt the old man.
"Are you OK? I didn't think you'd fall that hard," I ask as he grabs my hand, grunting again.
"I'm fine. You just caught me by surprise... you're learning quickly." He looks at me, questioning.
I nod while I gulp my water. I glance around, noting that the gym's almost empty.
"I'm not technically trained, like Farra, but my dad was a fighter. He made sure I knew the basics." I eye him, waiting for a response. He seems to note the subtle test. Offering him information that could get me in trouble. Not a lot of trouble, mind you. I doubt authorities will care too much that my missing and presumed dead father used to break rules, but it would put me in that category.Rule-breaker adjacent. They are careful to keep tabs on people who come from defector associations, and I don't want to be someone on their radar.
"He fought in the underground rings?"
"Yeah, I mean, mostly before they became what they are today. According to him, the fights used to actually be a sport everyone enjoyed, but he kept going long after it was illegal."
To my surprise, Berkley doesn't look offended by this information.
"Well, good for him. Every daughter should know how to throw a punch."
I smile, glad to see he isn't as intense about these rules as he is about other things.
"What about your kids?" I ask tentatively. Berk has been elusive when asked about his family. I know they're young, but I'm not entirely sure what the story is. He stares off, a foggy look taking over his face for a second.
"I have not been the best dad. My first enlistment screwed me up. I came here to provide for them in the only way I know how." He hangs his head in what I can only assume is shame. I recognize the haunted look of failure. I put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a slight push.
"There’s still time, you know. You love them, you can make it right." I mean it, and hope he can sense that. I don't know Berkley well, but I can tell he loves his family. He shakes his head. His voice coming out brittle.
"I think the best gift I can give them is to stay away."
I turn to face him fully. I should let it go, but I can't.
"You're wrong." I say softly. "Take it from someone who's lost both parents in different ways. Showing up for your kids, no matter the past, it counts. You don't strike me as someone who gives up easily, Berk. One day they'll appreciate you tried." I say it gently but firmly and smile at him, hoping he believes me.
