“Alright, let’s start with how to throw a punch,” Bryan said after we stretched and warmed up. “It’s all about technique, not strength. Make a tight fist with the thumb curled on the outside of the fingers. You’re going to hit with the first two big knuckles. Never hit with the fingers. They’ll break.” He demonstrated, pointing out the knuckles with his other hand, and I copied him. “Good,” he continued. “Now, spread your feet apart, one foot in front, one in back. Press your feet into the ground, and keep the knees slightly bent and flexible.”He acted out his words as he spoke, and I did as he instructed. “Now, whatever foot is forward, the opposite hand will throw the punch. The entire body is involved. Start by pushing into the ground with the rear foot. Twist through the hip so that the entire weight of your body is in the punch. Then follow through, don’t stop the hand’s momentum.” He demonstrated and then motioned for me to try. I threw a few punches while he watched.“Okay
I changed into black exercise shorts and a green, high-necked tank top that matched my green eyes and kept my necklace hidden. I didn’t have to change into a sports bra since I was already wearing one. I only own sports bras. I never knew when I’d have to make a run for it, so I didn’t bother with clothes that could slow me down. I quickly threw my long, blonde hair into a low braid so it would stay out of my face and in place—I hated when a long, free ponytail whipped around and stung my eyes—then made my way downstairs.My current foster mom, Lucy, worked a lot, but she always left notes around the house, usually in the kitchen or on the front door. I hadn’t needed to leave her a note yet, since I hadn’t left the house other than going to school. This was the first time I was leaving the house to go somewhere besides school, so I found the pad, scribbled a note telling her where I’d be, stuck it on the kitchen counter, and went outside. Bryan was waiting on my porch in a white T-sh
“Let’s see if this works,” Bryan grumbled after school the next day as he tensely fiddled with the miniature trebuchet we were building for our physics class. “Just going to wedge this piece in here—”There was a snap of wood, and Bryan cursed.“Maybe I should handle the fragile woodworking for now,” I suggested, sitting across from him on my bedroom floor. “You’re wound a little tight today.”He let out what sounded like a growl, slid the project toward me, stood up, and stalked over to the other side of the room. He ran a hand through his dark brown hair.“Very tight,” I murmured. “You okay?” “I’m fine,” he snapped.Bryan had been acting weird and tense all day. Ever since he slipped into my bedroom before school and had his eyes on me like he was looking for injuries. “Clearly,” I said sarcastically. “Eat some candy. That usually calms you down.”Bryan went to my desk and took a handful from the economy-size bag of Skittles he had left there. He had brought over the candy to keep
“So, do you like swimming?” Crew prodded. “I bet you’d look good in a Brazilian bikini.”I looked up at Crew. “I’m not a big swimmer,” I said. That was true. I hadn’t gone swimming since that day. “I hate getting out of the pool and being all cold.” He smiled. “Even better.”I rolled my eyes.“Because then I would get to warm you up,” he said innocently.“No. I’d do it myself.”“That’s no fun.”“For who? Anyone I care about?”“Touché.”“Oh. You speak French?” I asked him something in French, not expecting him to understand, but he responded in French. Good French. Probably, definitely, better than mine. I only got to use it in French class, after all. He had probably lived in a place where they spoke French in one of his father’s military postings. Or maybe he had a private French tutor with his family money. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that it had the intended effect. The subject was changed.We bantered back and forth until we finished our food. Then Crew slid out
The server walked up to our booth and served a mountain of food. Crew immediately dug in.“Anything else you need?” the server asked in a sugary-sweet voice as she batted her eyelashes at Crew.“Eat,” Crew urged me, ignoring her.“No, we’re good here,” I told the server. “Thank you.” She stared at Crew for another moment, then finally walked away. I picked up my utensils. “Okay, this waffle you ordered is delicious,” I said after one bite.“I knew you’d like it.”The way he was making love to his food, I doubted he cared whether I liked it or not.“So, what do you do for fun?” Crew asked after a few bites of syrupy goodness.“I spend my time doing homework,” I said between bites. “Gotta keep those grades up if I want to go to college. Pretty boring.” It was half-true. Researching was similar to homework, and most people would find it boring.“All work and no play makes a girl dull, and you are no dull girl. What else do you do?” “First of all, I disagree with your statement. Work
"I see you've trained your guard dog," Crew said when we met, his eyes on Bryan walking down the street. He turned his attention to me."He's my friend and a good guy, Crew, which are two things I can't say about you.""Did you forget that we had a study date?" he asked, ignoring my comment."Until you called my name, yes." I had no motivation to spare his feelings."Hmmm. I may have to better impress upon you the honor of being asked to study with me. I'm pretty important," he said."I think I perfectly comprehend the torture—I mean, honor—of hanging out with you." "This is why I like you. You're a challenge." His eyes had a predatory gleam."Boy, do I hate being right all the time," I mumbled to myself.A group of girls walking from the church to the school passed us. "Don't do it! He's a jerk! Just walk away!" one of the girls called out to me."One of your conquests?" I asked. "She seems unsatisfied."Crew chuckled, then reached for my hand. I backed away and gave him a look."J