Page 77 of Shattered Stars
“I can’t help it,” I tell her, going for the dirty move and tickling her under the armpits until she’s giggling too.
Soon we’re both rolling around in fits of laughter, that is until we look up to find Coach glaring down at us.
“You think this is funny?”
“No, Coach,” we say in unison, both trying our best not to laugh.
“This is serious, girls. It’s not a laughing matter,” he says and Winnie lets out a snort.
“Right,” he says, resting his hands on his hips, “if you can’t act sensibly, I’m splitting you up.” We both go to argue but he holds up his hand to silence us. “Wence, you go with Malik. And Blackwaters you can go with Clutton-Brock.” I open my mouthto protest but he starts clapping his hands together. “Come on, hurry it up.”
I slump off towards Summer, who’s waiting for me on her mat with her arms folded across her chest and a look of delight plastered on her face. She obviously thinks this is her opportunity to beat the crap out of me, which is funny seeing as I was the one to break her nose last time we stood off against each other.
“Hey Pig Girl,” she says, grinning evilly at me. “Want to show me what you’ve got?” She beckons at me with her fingers.
And oh my stars, I want to go right at her, knock her to the ground and batter her with my fists. But I know that’s exactly what she wants me to do. If I go charging at her, she’ll find a way to use my own momentum against me and I’ll be the one on the floor being battered.
I adopt my best bored expression, taking a serious leaf out of Tristan Kennedy’s book.
“Not really,” I say.
“Oh,” she says, pouting her lip. “Is the lickle piggie wiggie scared? I’m not surprised, you look like you’d fall over if the wind blew hard. There’s nothing to you.” She pushes out her impressive tits as if to emphasize her point.
I can’t help peeking down at my body. Maybe that assessment of hers would have been accurate a few months back, but I’m not as skinny as I used to be. There’s more to me now and quite a bit of it is muscle on account of all these gym classes.
“How’s the nose, Summer? Have you finally gotten it straight?”
“My nose is just fine. But yours could use a serious rearrangement, it would improve your face. In fact, I’m not sure why you bothered changing the snout I gave you. It looked much better than that honker of yours.” She sniggers at her own joke and I really hate this girl.
“Girls!” Coach yells at us from the other side of the hall. “Stop yacking and start practicing.” We glare at each other, neither one willing to back down and Coach comes marching our way. “Blackwaters, you’re seriously trying my patience today.” Summer smirks. “And you too, Clutton-Brock,” he whips. “Stop talking and start fighting. Clutton-Brock show me a shoulder throw.”
Summer positively beams and stalks towards me. I take a pace away from her. There’s no way I’m letting her do that to me. This girl has pushed me around one too many times.
Coach throws his hands up in frustration with me. “How are either of you meant to learn, if you won’t let each other practice?”
“I’ll let Winnie practice on me,” I say, turning towards him. Summer takes her chance, lunging towards me, attempting to sweep my feet from under me. But I see her coming and twist my body, we collide together, both grappling at each other’s shirts, trying to pull the other to the ground.
“Enough!” Coach yells. “Out, both of you out.” He grabs both of us by the upper arm and marches us out of the gym doors and onto the dueling pitch. “Right, I want three laps of the academy grounds.”
“Three!” Summer whines.
“Three. And don’t think I can’t tell if you don’t run the course properly.” He releases us both and taps the side of his head. “I have ways of knowing. Now off! I don’t want to see either of you again until you’re out of breath, drenched in sweat, and begging my forgiveness. Go!”
To my surprise, Summer doesn’t argue like she usually would. Perhaps she understands Coach well enough to know there’s no point. She’s kicking up her heels and sprinting off before I know it.
“Blackwaters!” Coach growls, and reluctantly I race after Summer. I hate to admit that Summer is better than me at anything, but when it comes to running she is. She’s much taller than me, her legs stretching on for miles, and she can run a hell of a lot faster. I try to keep up with her just on account of my own pride, but soon she disappears into the distant trees and I’m left with only the pounding of my feet and the thudding of my heart for company.
The day is overcast, the weather changing now, the odd crimson leaf twirling down from the branches and overhead geese flying in formation across the gray sky. It reminds me of home. Of the changing season. Right now, we’d be pickling and canning the vegetables and fruit we picked a month ago.
A homesickness tugs at my heart and I realize it’s been days, maybe weeks now since I experienced a pang like that. The academy seems more and more like home. Or maybe not the academy but the people – Winnie, Trent, Stone, Azlan.
Maybe it’s not home then that I miss, maybe it’s my aunt. My emotions about her have become confused. The more I learn about my past, about my mom, the more I feel resentment towards my aunt. Why did she never tell me these things? Why did she leave me so ignorant and exposed? But those feelings are always followed by guilt. She did her best. She worked hard every day to keep me safe.
I do miss her. I love Winnie to bits. I even appreciated the advice her grandma gave me on our brief visit. But it isn’t the same as my aunt. I wonder what she’d make of my situation. I wonder what she’d think of the two men that are my mates. I wonder what she’d think of those other men too. I don’t remember her ever having a special person in her life – a man or a woman. Another sacrifice she made for me.
The crisp, fallen leaves crunch under my soles as I run beneath the changing trees and into shadow, lost in my thoughts.
So lost I don’t see her coming for me.
