Wicked Hunger (12 page)

Ketchup is the only one who could actually help if things go badly. Plus, I know he’ll be home today. His mom works six days a week, so he’s left to fend for himself most weekends, and his dad lives out of state and rarely bothers to visit his son. I know he’ll be able to come if I need him. I feel like a jerk using him as my backup when I know how he feels, but I have no one else to trust with this. Praying Ketchup will understand, I open a text message to him.

Trying something new. Not sure how it will go. I may need help later. I’ll be at 724 Alameda.

Keeping my fingers crossed that Ketchup won’t hate me for asking his help on this, I tuck my phone into my pocket and walk back to the living room. Noah asks if I’m ready. I nod and follow him out to his car. I’m buckling up when my phone chimes at me. I open the message and finally manage to breathe.

Call if u need me. I’ll B there.

No questions asked, even though I’m sure he made the connection and knows I’m with Noah. Gratitude for his unrelenting loyalty fills me to the brim, along with a pretty severe stab of guilt. I hate that I had to involve him in this at all.

“Ready?” Noah asks.

I nod my head because my throat is too closed up to speak.

A short ten minutes later, we pull into the parking lot of the gym. A new emotion takes up residence then. Fear. Somehow, I push my door open and follow Noah across the parking lot. As we walk in the front door, I feel like I have to revise my description of the building. Gym doesn’t quite fit. The only pieces of exercise equipment I see are racks of free weights along one wall. The rest of the gym is open space with perfectly square blue mats dotting the area. Four of the six mats are occupied with people ranging in age from elementary school kids to older than my grandma. This isn’t at all what I was expecting. Of course, I didn’t have a lot to go off, either. My grandma not only forbids us to participate in combat sports, but movies and TV shows on the same topic are taboo as well. She wouldn’t even let us see
The Karate Kid
.

“So, you ready?” Noah asks.

A teen sparring on the mat nearest me snaps his foot into his partner’s leg and knocks him to the ground. My hunger yearns to get a little closer as the fallen boy groans. I should go. I should really, really go.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” I say. Nodding, Noah gestures to the far mat and I follow. The fallen teen gets up as I walk past him and rubs his leg. His lingering pain floats off his body and skims through the air to reach me. A fight starts a little further away from me and the air is tainted with their minor injuries. It’s such a small amount. The air is filled with it, though.

We pass by another mat and I stop, trying desperately to control the sudden urge to leap into the fight I am watching. Two boys, no more than eleven or twelve, are pelting each other with jabs and kicks. One of the boy’s pain leaps out at me, rushing in to stoke my hunger happily.

“Cool, huh?” Noah says with a smile. “Let’s go get a mat before someone else snags it.”

I grab Noah’s extended hand, not caring if he interprets it the wrong way. I just need to get as far away from those boys as possible. By the time I reach the mat Noah picked out, I’m feeling a little lightheaded.

“So, you’re going to want to take your shoes and socks off first,” Noah says. He slips his tennis shoes and socks off and sets them to the side of the mat. Shaking my head to clear it, I follow his example and step back on the mat with bare feet. The impression that I should run only gets worse.

“Nice toenails,” Noah says, eyeing my glittery purple nail polish.

I’m so nervous about being here that I can’t even laugh at his teasing. The best I can dredge up is a faint smile. “Are you going to show me what I’m supposed to do, or what?” I say lightly, trying to hide my nervousness.

“Sure, I’ve just never fought anyone with sparkly toes before,” he says.

Another round of his playful teasing eases my anxiety a little. I throw him a more meaningful smile, and he continues.

“So, Jeet Kune Do isn’t a set of patterned movements like some other martial arts. It’s a more free flowing, reactionary style.”

“What does that mean?” It seems to me like all fighting should be reactionary. If someone’s about to hit you, you have to stop them, and probably hit them back. Zander probably wouldn’t agree with me on that one, but it certainly seems like the logical way to fight.

“Well,” Noah says, “with Kung Fu, if your opponent strikes you with a certain attack, you would answer with the appropriate response move. Attacks and counterattacks follow a pattern in those methods, but in Jeet Kune Do the idea is to attack your opponent and intercept their attack before it ever lands.”

I start to relax a little more as I identify with what he’s saying. Why would anyone wait for someone to attack them if they could break in and do it first? Zander swears fulfilling his hunger through a well-planned route is much better than jumping at the first chance to kill, but I don’t believe him. The thrill and rush of adrenaline I get every time my hunger erupts and tries to send me after someone are so completely intoxicating, there can’t be anything better. I’m not sure whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing that Noah and I have the same tastes in that regard. It could lead to some unfortunate situations very easily.

“So, I guess we should start with the basics. There are four different ranges in Jeet Kune Do, kicking, punching, trapping, and grappling. Kicking is usually the one people are most familiar with. Why don’t we start there?”

“Okay. Just tell me what to do,” I say.

“Start with your feet apart and your hands up in front of you in a loose fist.” Noah pauses to see if I’m in the right position, frowns, and steps closer to me. His right foot taps against my left. “Open up a little further. You need a solid base or you’ll fall over when you kick.”

I reposition my foot and ask, “Like that?”

He nods. Settling into the same stance, Noah demonstrates the most basic kicks for me. I tried to talk my grandma into letting me learn cardio kickboxing once. She refused, of course, but I had spent a little time learning about it before asking, so the kicks Noah shows me are somewhat familiar. They remind me of something else as well. I mimic his movements perfectly. A low buzz of anticipation shoots through my veins.

“Great. You wanna try some harder ones?” he asks. I nod my head eagerly. “Okay, this is called a heel hook kick. Watch me, and then give it a try.”

I watch with rapt attention as his leg snaps out sideways to full extension, then half a second later his knee bends and he pulls his heel back to where I expect his imaginary opponent’s face would be. I can picture a person’s head cracking against the heel, see it whip around and leave them lying on the floor unconscious. My mouth splits into a grin. That’s my kind of kick. Noah nods for me to give it a try, then blinks in surprise when I execute it with precision.

“Huh,” he says, “are you sure you haven’t tried this before?”

“It’s not that different from ballet, actually, just faster.”

He looks at me doubtfully. “Really?”

I nod. “Watch.”

Starting in third position, I sweep my leg out to the side, extending it completely before pulling it behind me in attitude position and continuing the motion into a turn on pointe. My leg comes down lightly to rest back in third position. “See?” I say.

Noah grins. “That’s cool. You’re going to pick this up faster than I thought. Come on, let’s keep going.”

I’m more than happy to agree with him by this point. We work through the punching and trapping pretty quickly. Not grinning like an idiot while I hit the mitts Noah holds out for me is more challenging than figuring out any of the punches. I’m not actually hurting anyone, but there is something primal and fulfilling about slamming your fist into something. Maybe it’s the knowledge that I
could
hurt someone, maybe it’s the energy released every time I throw a punch. I don’t know, but I absolutely love it! Even the trapping is fun. When we get up to the grappling range, Noah hesitates, frowning and running his hands through his hair.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

He blushes. “I’ve, uh, never practiced grappling with a girl before. They have their own division, for good reason. There’s a lot of contact in this part.”

“Oh.”

That’s all I can say, because the feel of my own cheeks turning red distracts me too much to say anything else. In my head, I’m saying, contact? What’s wrong with that? I thought Noah was attractive the first time I saw him in class. Seeing him sweaty enough that his snug t-shirt is showing off his muscles in the nicest way possible, well, it definitely isn’t discouraging. But in the deepest part of my heart, I balk at the idea. There’s only one person I want to find myself with in that kind of situation.

Instantly, I shut down ideas like that. Situations like that can’t happen with Ketchup, I remind myself.

Despite my shame, I can’t completely put off thinking about grappling. Maybe it’s just the endorphins running through my body after our workout, but I find that I’m not wholly opposed to the idea of Noah’s hands on me. As my mind starts to run away with itself, I remember Noah is staring at me and my blush goes scarlet. I hope as hard as I can that Noah doesn’t notice, but when he laughs and drops his hands to his sides, I know I’m out of luck.

“You know, it’s not that big of a deal to skip it,” Noah says. “If you wanted to keep learning you’d want to know, but it’s not like we’re going to be getting that into it for our project anyway. There won’t be any mats, and I’d like to avoid cracking my head against the tile if I can help it.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Yeah, that’d probably be good. I’m pretty sure Mr. Littleton expects a blood free scene.”

“No kidding.” Composed again, Noah gestures at the mat between us. “Do you want to try and put what you learned into use? It probably doesn’t seem like very many skills, but we could definitely spar with what you know.”

“No,” I say quickly. Noah looks surprised, but I shake my head fiercely. I had a blast training with him today. It was so much more fun than I expected, but I’m not stupid. My kind of fun turns into violent chaos way too easily. “I’m not ready for that. I need more time to practice before I actually try to spar with anyone. Way more practice.”

Noah doesn’t seem to agree, but his confusion about my reluctance quickly morphs into a smile. “So, does that mean you’ll come back and practice with me again?”

“Yeah,” I say out loud while my brain screams no.

Noah’s grin widens. “Great. I was hoping you’d like Jeet Kune Do.”

“I loved it. Thanks for teaching me, Noah.”

“No problem,” he says. “We can come back next weekend, if you want.”

I’m about to accept his invitation when I remember that I already have plans.  “I’ll have to let you know about next weekend later.”

“Oh, if you’re busy, that’s okay.” He keeps his smile and casual stance, but I can hear the disappointment in his voice. The silly, girly side of me smiles at the idea that Noah really is interested in seeing me again. The part of me that still has a functioning brain hurries to reassure him.

“Zander has a football game next Friday night, first game of the season. Saturday I have a dance competition. The weekend after that would be fine, though,” I say. I pause and think for a moment. “Maybe we could get together before the game on Friday, and then you could come watch the game with me and Laney.”

His expression brightens for a moment before turning cautious again. “I’m not much of a football fan.”

Now it’s my turn to be disappointed. “Oh, okay then. It was just an idea.”

I turn away and sit down on the edge of the mat so I can put my tennis shoes back on. The fear returns that Noah is only here to get a good grade on this project. It shouldn’t be a big deal. I’m used to people rejecting me in one way or another. This is by far the slightest, but I thought he’d want to come to hang out with me. Maybe I was wrong. The sudden tightness in my chest surprises me with its strength. Without warning, I’m struggling to hold back tears, telling myself I’m being an idiot at the same time.

Noah’s hand on my shoulder startles me enough to put any tears on hold. “Hey,” he says, “listen, it’s not really about football as much as Zander. No offense, but he freaks me out. I don’t know what was going on with him the other night, but he scared my little sister half to death. I’ve seen overprotective before, but Zander…”

“That had nothing to do with you, Noah,” I try to explain. “He was reacting to Ivy, not you. I don’t think he even saw you there.”

“What does he have against Ivy?”

“Nothing! I mean…they’ve got issues. They’re a mess, but it has nothing to do with you.”

Noah shakes his head and sits down next to me, somehow managing it without taking his hand off my shoulder. It’s the smoothest way I’ve ever seen a guy sneak his arm around a girl, but I find I don’t mind as much as I should. I do, however, resist leaning into him. Well, until he tightens his grip on me and pulls me closer.

“Look, Van, I don’t want to sound like a coward, but your brother is intense.”

His head turns enough to catch my gaze. He asked if Zander was home when he called earlier, but I didn’t think much of it. Would he have backed out of picking me up if he had been home? Is that cowardly? I know how dangerous Zander is, so it’s hard to blame Noah. The concern that seems to be directed more at me, than himself makes it even harder.