Way of the Open Hand
Assessment 2.2
"So you fight monsters?" I asked. Was she a hero? "All the time," Lia-sensei said. "Every day, even." "Wow." "Don't be too impressed, child," she said, shaking her head, and amused smile on her face. "There's a little monster in all of us." I blinked. "You're talking metaphorically, aren't you?" "You're a smart one, aren't you?" My face fell. "My mom was an English professor." "I see," she said. It was obvious she didn't. "Well, yes, it is metaphorical. But it's also true. Most people pretend it doesn't exist and try to control it when it stirs, but they often fail. Others don't even try and just let I bit my lip. That was kind of scary, but it made sense. A "crime of passion," they called it on TV. "How- how do you deal with it? What should She crouched down to look me in the eyes. "You, little one, I will teach you how to kill it, as I do, every day. Just remember, it never actually
Dad found me there, sitting on the floor, back against the front door, arms on my knees, crying softly. He didn't say anything. He just crouched down and gathered me into an awkward hug.
It was one thing to think Emma had transformed into a petty, spiteful bitch. That, ultimately, my best friend and the traitor weren't really the same person. But it was another thing entirely to realize that my Emma was still in there somewhere, that my Emma really was the same Emma who had betrayed me.
That, ultimately, the only friend I'd ever had had always been just one bad day away from turning on me.
Then I remembered how I felt just minutes ago, the sheer satisfaction coursing through me as I saw her there, broken, sobbing, practically begging for a forgiveness I could not bring myself to grant. I remembered her expression as I slammed the door in her face, first figuratively, then literally.
I guess Lia-sensei was right. There's a little monster in all of us. Emma had let it control her. And in that moment, so had I.
I told Dad about the bullying of course. It wasn't like I could hide it from him after this. Not that I'd been trying to. It just... hadn't seemed important. And it wasn't like it mattered anymore now, not unless this was all part of yet another prank.
Which, granted, it very well might be.
Dad was furious, and I had to physically restrain him from calling Mr. Barnes and tearing him a new one. The fact that he'd seen me crying hadn't been very helpful in convincing him that it really didn't matter. The fact that yelling at Mr. Barnes, cathartic as it would be, would only make things worse calmed him down a bit, though.
We went to the back yard, and I stood across from Dad. He dropped into a modified boxer's stance; it wasn't how I fought, but it was what he was comfortable with after years scrapping with his fellow dockworkers, and I had helped him clean up his stance and technique.
He hesitated, as usual, so I took the initiative. As usual. I lunged forward with a straight right, which he deflected with his left forearm, countering with a right jab. I leaned back under the punch and kicked out at his shins. Dad danced back, then darted forward with a one-two combo.
He usually didn't get this aggressive this soon when we sparred. He must be pissed.
We continued sparring for several minutes. It helped. Once I goaded Dad past his initial hesitance, it let him vent and tired him out enough that he wasn't going to do anything rash any time soon. It also helped me focus, gather my thoughts, center myself.
First, were they genuine? Had their apology just been an elaborate setup for another prank? I... I didn't think so, actually. Emma had seemed... too open, too... vulnerable for this to be a trick, and Sophia had seemed genuinely concerned for her.
Still, best to find out. And I had an idea how.
"Dad," I said, "I'm heading out."
"For another walk?"
"No," I said. "I'm gonna go see if my other sparring partner's free."
It was time to test a theory.