I slide the bowl out of my hair and towel my head with my napkin.
“My point is,” Destin says, handing me his napkins, “I don’t think proximity to us will improve her situation. Exhibit A,” he nods at my hair.
Maybe he’s right. At least for today. It’s Tuesday, and Tuesdays and Thursdays put Hyde in especially high spirits, because that’s when he gets free reign to beat people up in kendo. As you might imagine, this is not my favorite class. I’d rather be pretending not to be totally tiny in karate the other days of the week. With kendo, I still have to pretend not to be totally tiny, but with a sword. What the heck am I supposed to do with a sword when I can’t reach? My only comfort is that Destin sucks at it too, so at least I’m not the only one looking like an idiot. We do a lot better as a team of idiots.
The thing about karate and kendo, like all the other “extracurricular” classes, is that you aren’t just with your homeroom, or even your grade. You’re with whoever signed up for it – or had been signed up for it whether they wanted to or not. In the case of karate and kendo, the only people from our homeroom are me, Destin, Jacques Olivier, and Brandon Underwood. Jacques is from Canada, and speaks French as easily as he does English, and likes to let everyone know it. He’s surgically attached to his cell phone and thinks he’s superior because he hangs out with seniors. Brandon is a lot calmer. He’s pretty much permanently attached at the hip to his girlfriend Kenna, also in our class. When they’re not breaking up, they’re getting back together. Again, to each their own.
Anyway, we’re thankfully spared the company of Hayley’s fancy-pants band, but in return we get Hyde. I’m still undecided as to whether the tradeoff is worth it.
I hit the front of my locker as three of the juniors elbow roughly past me, laughing. I straighten my gi, my white uniform, and glare at their backs as they leave the locker room.
Like clockwork. If kendo is my least favorite thing, it’s the highlight of these guys’ week. They get free reign to attack people with a freaking sword. It’s a dull wooden sword, sure, but it leaves some bruises, let me tell you.
To make matters worse, Hyde is Ikeda-sensei’s best student. A couple of the others can get hits in on him, if they’re lucky, but he’s as yet undefeated. A senior, Poggio, had come close last week, but then Hyde almost broke his wrist. Now Poggio sits on the sidelines with his arm in a sling and Hyde’s back to trying to trip Destin when Ikeda-sensei isn’t looking.
I sigh with resignation as I step out of the locker room into the dojo. It’s Tuesday, so I’d just have to live with it. But today ends up being a lot more...entertaining than I had anticipated.
We have a new student.
There’s Camille, getting a tour of the dojo from Ikeda-sensei while the rest of the class sizes her up. General consensus looks to be ‘I bet I could take her,’ ranging from completely innocent she’s-way-tiny to you-don’t-want-to-know lewd. I mean she’s super thin, you can tell, now that she’s in a gi instead of that baggy sweater, and she isn’t any taller than me. Goldilocks ringlets aside, though, she somehow looks...correct...in her gi. Maybe it’s her posture. I don’t remember her standing this straight before, or looking so formal.
Ikeda-sensei likes to start every lesson with an exhibition match. Most of the time this involves Hyde getting to beat on some poor sap with a full audience. I’m busy crossing my fingers that it’s not going to be me, and sparing a couple of crossed toes that it won’t be Destin.
But Ikeda clearly has something different in mind.
“Today’s exhibition match will be...” Ikeda’s gaze slides across the room, his lips curling. “Hyde and Teague.”
Hyde laughs and hoists his wooden sword onto his shoulder, shoving his way between Brandon and Destin to get to the front of the room. Camille merely walks around the edge of the group, coming to a stop in front of him, one hand resting on the identical practice sword at her waist.
“Everyone else have a seat,” Ikeda says, amusement coloring his voice. As the rest of the class sits where they were, placing their swords beside them on the mat, he steps back to lean against the wall. The two look totally mismatched – Hyde tall and sinewy with dark spiked hair and metal glittering from every facial feature, Camille tiny and golden, with the exception of that weird iron bracer on her left arm. You’d think she’d take that thing off for something like this.
Hyde holds his wooden sword out at arm’s length, pointing it at Camille. “This is your only warning,” he sneers at her. “I love fighting newbies, and I don’t care that you’re a girl.”
Camille merely inclines her head, and then dips into a perfect Japanese bow. Hyde just laughs again, a throaty cackle. I slip a glance at Destin. She’s in trouble.
When Camille straightens up, Ikeda says, “Begin.”
Hyde’s first move is a flurry of power. Camille doesn’t even draw her sword. She sidesteps and ducks. Hyde blows right past her. He cocks his head and straightens up as he turns.
“Dodgy,” he comments, and swings at her again with a yell.
I flinch. If he connects with her, she’ll definitely sustain a serious injury, like Poggio, wooden sword or no. But Camille still doesn’t draw. She merely spins where she stands. He oversteps, compensating for the lack of impact. Her foot catches his ankle. She hooks his leg out from under him. Hyde drops on the mat with a grunt of pain, but immediately scrambles to his feet.
“What the hell are you playing at?” he snaps, pointing his sword at her again.
“You, it looks like,” Jacques calls. Several chuckles rise from the class.
Hyde’s face flushes. “Use your freaking sword!” he growls at her.
“When I need it,” Camille says, sounding bored.
He comes at her a third time, wilder than ever. In a flash, Camille drops into a roll and pops back up behind him. She plants a foot in his back as he goes past. He stumbles, out of balance, and falls flat on his face. The entire class breaks into laughter.
“Settle down, settle down,” Ikeda holds up his hands, stepping forward to stand by Camille. “I think that’s enough for one day.”
“What? Sensei!” Hyde protests, rubbing his nose. “Come on! She didn’t use her sword! This isn’t karate class!”
“No, it’s not,” Ikeda says, the same amusement coloring his voice. “So you’d better hope I don’t ask you to fight her tomorrow.”
That’s when I notice her belt is black. Holy crap. She’s a black belt. How had I missed it?
Ikeda starts talking to Camille in Japanese, and she replies fluently, happily, and they share a laugh about something – but I have a feeling it’s at Hyde’s expense. So does Hyde, apparently, by the flush that creeps up his neck. Ikeda and Camille chatter back and forth unintelligibly, and it’s clear Ikeda has found a new favorite.
The sudden sense of admiration I feel for the foreign girl becomes tinged with concern as I see the way Hyde is looking at her. As she placidly puts away her sword in the rack against the far wall, I see the murder hatching in his eyes. I glance at Destin, and I can tell he’d seen it too.
I was right after all. Our new classmate has no idea what she’s just stepped into.
Destin and I catch up with her on the way out. “That was some awesome non-sword work there,” I tell her as we walk alongside her.
“Ari- Thank you,” she says, correcting herself.
“You uh, you may not have noticed, but I think you pissed off Hyde.”
Camille glances at me dismissively. “I noticed.”