Fighting (5 page)

Fighting
wasn't the only thing I had to learn.  Brooks took it upon himself to weaponize
me with more than just lethal fighting skills.  If fighting was the hardware,
knowledge was the software, and he dropped a lot of it on me every day in a
private tutoring session with me.

"So
you walk in a room, what's the first thing you notice?" Brooks asked me
during our afternoon tutoring the following day.

We
were alone in a random, empty classroom, sitting in desks that were facing each
other.

"Are
you quizzing me on what I should do, or what I would do before coming
here?" I asked.

"Before
you came here," he clarified.

"Okay. 
Well.  I'd walk inside and I guess I'd scan everyone inside for a familiar
face.  Then I'd zero in on whatever I was there to do.  Like I'd walk directly
to the counter if I went inside for a cup of coffee."

"Right. 
You wouldn't talk to anyone?"

"Not
unless I had to.  Or unless I was in a particularly good mood."

"That's
it?  You would stop observing at that point?"

"Other
than just taking things in as I looked around, yeah I guess.  Actually, unless
I was looking for a mark to steal from, if I was waiting in line or something,
I'd pick someone and watch them.  Just for kicks, not because I was being
creepy," I amended.

His
lips twitched.  "What about if you were at work?"

"At
the book shop?  I'd do what I did that first day you came.  I did my job and
read in my downtime.  I scanned the shop every now and then, just keeping tabs
on the people in the store.  I was usually alone or at least in charge when I
worked, so I wanted to . . . be ready for anything, I guess."

"Like
attempted robberies?" he asked with a smirk.

"Apparently,"
I said in a dry voice.

"What
made you take notice of me on that first day?"

"At
first, I saw you because you bought a cup of coffee, obviously.  So I took in
your appearance, like I did with everyone who walked in, and found that instead
of pinpointing quirks like crazy hair or bad taste in shoes, you were almost
completely average, commonplace.  Average hair, average build, average posture,
average drink choice.  Neutral colored clothes and shoes.  You were utterly
normal."

"So
what made you pay closer attention to me?" he asked.

"It
wasn't your sparkling personality, if you're fishing for a compliment." 
He smiled.  "I can't really put my finger on it, but I felt it in my gut
so I didn't dismiss you like I usually would have.  I watched your body
language."

"And?"
he encouraged me.

I
sat back in my chair and said, "First, your posture, like I said, was
average.  You weren't stick straight but you weren't slouched like a teenager,
either.  You looked comfortable.  You were smiling pleasantly while reading the
paper, and that was the first red flag.  It'd be understandable if you were
reading the comics or the lifestyle section, but you were on the headlines and
then onto the second and third pages.  I didn't have to read the paper to know
it wasn't good news.  So if you were engrossed in it like you wanted us to
think, you would probably have a small frown on your face from concentration,
if not from reacting to bad news.

"Second
red flag was when I caught you scanning your surroundings intently every thirty
seconds or so, which is way above average.  Last red flag before I made a move
toward you was when I saw you moving slightly every time I moved around the
store.  Not when someone else coughed or got up for a sugar packet, but when I,
the only employee in the store, moved.  I even tested it out a few times and
you never failed to react.  I realized you were watching me, and I wondered if
you knew I was watching you in return."

"That's
very good," he said, nodding his head in approval.  "Did you know how
many people were in the store when the gunman came?"

"Yes,"
I said, feeling an interesting little zing of happiness knowing Brooks was
proud of me.

"I
was right about you, you know.  You're cut out for this work."

"Is
this a lesson or a pep talk?"

"Lesson
time.  There are several things you need to scan for when you enter any room. 
The exits, if you don't already know where they are.  The people, how many and
what the atmosphere of the place is so you can blend in better.  And weapons
and potential threats, if there are any, what they are and how many.  Like you
said earlier, you watched people while waiting in line, etc.  You zoned
out?" he asked.

"Pretty
much."

"Right. 
Don't do that anymore," he said simply.  "In public or on assignment,
your mind should be constantly on guard, so even if you appear to be reading
the paper, you're actually keeping tabs on everything around you so you can be,
as you said, ready for anything."

"What
about when I'm home?"

"Go
crazy with it.  Doubt Spencer would tolerate it too much, though."

I
blinked at him.  Then I blinked again. 

I
meant home as in, not in public.  Brooks meant home as in, the compound.  With
these people. 
Home.
  I pushed the word around, testing out how it
felt.  My mouth felt dry and my hands became a little restless in my lap.  I
mentally shook my head and put it on the back burner to mull over later, when I
was alone.

"But
you're not really one to zone out," Brooks continued, like I hadn't just
reconsidered my entire life so far and where I fit into it.  "Not fully,
anyway.  When
you
appear to zone out, your mind doesn't go blank, it
overloads.  You'll need to train your mind to stay more focused."

"How
did you know that?" I asked.

"Normally,
when you stare into space and someone calls your attention, you don't have to
'snap out of it.'  Your eyes shift to the person talking and you immediately
jump into the conversation without having to catch up or ask questions.   You
may have been wading through your personal, unrelated thoughts, but you never
fully left the room."

I
stared at him, musing over how we would never be able to throw a surprise
birthday party for him because nothing got by him.

"You
have an active mind.  It's a good quality to have."

"Not
when I'm trying to fall asleep at night," I countered.

He
tilted his head to the side in a
touché
gesture.  "So from now on,
I want you to practice memorizing a room and retaining that knowledge for as
long as you need it.  But don't let it cloud your mind with too many
details."

"Okay,
Teach."

He
smirked and shook his head.  Then he dropped an arsenal of information on me
about all kinds of interesting things.  Like the best places on the body to
conceal weapons, when to be direct and when to be discreet, and how to spot a
tail and then lose it.  He ended the lesson on slight of hand techniques.  I
showed him my methods, and he showed me a few I'd never thought of.  When I'd
get excited over something, he would smile or laugh, encouraging me.

Brooks
was such a badass and he was getting a kick out of helping to broaden my
horizons. 

This
was so much better than a normal college learning experience.

Later
that evening, Ollie knocked on my door and cracked it open to stick his head
in. 

"So
I take it you're not up for a gaming session?" Oliver asked from my
doorway.

I
was lying on the cool hardwood floor of my bedroom with ice on my arms and
legs.

I
looked up at him and said, "Nice try, kid but I will never admit
defeat."

I
slowly but surely removed all of the ice bags and sat up.  I pushed off of the
floor with my hands and lumbered to my feet.  Oliver walked inside my room and
swiped a few of the ice bags.  I followed him to the living room and collapsed
on the couch.  My body may have been exhausted, but my mind was up for the
challenge.

"You
think you'll be able to keep up?" he asked.

"Watch
your mouth," I said tiredly.

While
we were playing, I realized that while I was getting thorough exercise every
day now, I missed practicing yoga.

"Does
anyone here do yoga?" I asked Oliver.

He
laughed in my face.  "No.  We're more punchy than stretchy."

I
laughed and threw myself into the game, making myself a worthy opponent.

August
and Spencer wandered into the room, probably attracted by the sounds of
repetitive gunfire from the game.  August sat down beside of me and Spencer
fell on the closest couch.  When I died, I tossed the remote to Spencer and let
him take a turn.  I adjusted my bags of ice to be more comfortable and looked
at August.

"So
why are you guys here at the compound?" I asked her.

"You
mean why aren't we in regular schools or with our families?"

"Yeah. 
I know Brooks brought me on because of some philosophical bullshit but also
because I'm a thief.  What about you guys?"

"None
of us have families, and we're homeschooled here.  Spencer is talented with
anything physical.  He's got really impressive hand-eye coordination and picks
up anything that requires use of his body within minutes or hours.  He's
usually the first of us to master a skill in hand-to-hand combat.  Ollie is a
genius.  Literally.  He eats, sleeps, and breathes technology, which is one
reason why we don't like playing video games with him.  He's too good to beat. 
He hacks and codes and basically does everything for us that requires
computers.  He's also Brooks' nephew."

"No
shit?" I asked, surprised.

"Yeah. 
His father left his mother before he was even born and his mother was
struggling to take care of both of them, so Brooks took him in to help out two
years ago.  She visits every now and then.  Ethan is good at everything he
pursues, but most especially fighting.  He's never lost a match since I've
known him."

"What
about you?" I asked.

"I
have a knack for impressions."

"She's
really good at mimicking people.  With the proper preparation, she can fool you
into thinking she's anyone she wants you to believe," Spencer said.

"Social
engineering," Ollie piped up.

"You're
a grifter," I said, surprised but impressed.

"Pretty
much," she said.

She
was only fourteen and she was already adept at being anyone she wanted? 
It's
hard enough figuring out who you are as a teenager anyway.  Must be hard
knowing who she really was
, I thought.

"What
about your family?" I asked.

"This
is my family," she said simply.

After
we played for a few hours, I took my mat and made my way up to the fourth
floor, to the empty studio.  I arrived just before sunset and opened the doors
and windows at both ends of the room.  The room sucked air in like a tunnel
with a light evening breeze that was perfect.  I sat down and brought my knees
to my chest to watch the sun sink down behind the trees, listening to the
breeze ruffle the leaves in the distance.  I loved North Carolina, and it was
beautiful everywhere, but there was nothing quite like nature in rural North
Carolina. 

I
plugged in my music to play my yoga playlist that was filled mostly with
Portishead and sat for a few more minutes before getting up to do a relatively
easy routine, just slipping back into things.  Afterward, I lounged right by
the glass and just watched the tops of the trees swaying against a backdrop of
stars.  I was so relaxed, I almost fell asleep, so I gathered my things and
went to bed. 

I
spent the next week dropping into this new routine.  I'd wake up for exercise
and combat training with Ross, eat lunch with the others, spend the afternoon
with Brooks when he would give me private lessons, eat supper with the others,
and then read until time for Yoga Alone Time before collapsing into my bed
every night.  I was settling into living at the compound, and it wasn't as hard
as I thought.  Except that there were people everywhere, all the time, and I
wasn't used to that.  The only places I could go for some quiet relief were my
room or the balcony set off from the studio French doors, where I spent a lot
of time reading. 

And
then there was Ethan.  I was constantly aware of his proximity to me, and where
he was at in the room.  I watched him covertly, trying to embrace that whole
know
thy enemy
mentality.  After observing his behavior for an entire week in
different situations and around different people, I was thrown off just a
little, because he wasn't the loud, arrogant rock star I'd pegged him as.  I
wasn't usually wrong about people, but I was with Ethan and of course, I found
that grating.  He did carry himself confidently, like I first thought, but he
wasn't cocky.  He never bragged about anything or put anyone else down.  He was
mostly quiet and kept to himself unless he had something interesting or important
to contribute.  I caught him teasing Oliver or Spencer a few times, but it was
so low key I couldn't even really hear what was said to make Oliver laugh or
Spencer scowl playfully.