Most times I worked with one of the living instead of a dummy, but yesterday I’d almost hacked off Cruz’s head for real. And not because my skills were awesome, but because I’d tripped, and then tripped him. So, today we concentrated on the basics I’d already gone over a thousand times.
I selected one of the shorter swords, with a lighter handle.
“If you’d bench-press what I tell you to bench-press—” Trina strolled out of the bathroom, dressed in her customary black tank and pants, a white towel draped around her neck “—you wouldn’t have to pick the wussy sword.”
Since that night in the forest, she had welcomed me to the group wholeheartedly. She would come up to me and chat about anything and everything when I was with Kat, something that drove Kat insane. To Kat’s credit, she’d never asked me to drop Trina. Although…could that be what was bothering her? That I hadn’t done so on my own?
Metal whistled through air as I waved my choice around with mock ferocity. “The wussy sword kills just as dead as the she-man sword.”
She ran a hand through her shorn hair and grinned. “Maybe. But you won’t look as cool doing that killing.”
“Back in the ring, Ali,” Cole called.
“Sir, yes, sir,” I said, causing several kids to laugh.
I assumed my position. Before I could take my first swing, I caught sight of Mackenzie exiting the bathroom. She was dressed in camo and armed for battle. Tonight she was on nest-hunting rotation. She nodded a stiff greeting in my direction—no hatred in her eyes.
Well, well. That was new.
“I talked to her,” Cole said, surprising me.
I know. I hit the dummy with more force than I’d intended. “So what’d you say to her this time?” The last two words had bite, I admit it.
“That whatever happens with you, nothing will ever again happen with her. I also reminded her of the fact that you saved her life.”
Whatever happens with you… The sword slipped from my hands the moment I hit the dummy, falling. I twisted, intending to face Cole, and I did, but I also scratched him on the neck as my arms flailed for balance.
“I’m so sorry!”
He wiped away a smear of blood. “Good, you should be. You can be a real pain in the…neck.”
“Hey!”
“What? I cleaned up my language.” He picked up the sword and moved behind me, properly refitting my hands on the hilt before slapping a dagger in my other hand. At first contact, a shiver slid down my spine.
“Trina carries an ax,” I said to cover my reaction. What had he meant by whatever happens with you? He was hot one minute, cold the next, and it was confusing. “Shouldn’t I learn to work with one of those?”
“Trina’s stronger than you are. She uses enough force to split bone, no matter her weapon.” Warm breath caressed my nape. “Right now, you’ll have better luck with a dagger.”
Goose bumps began to break out all over me. “If you say so.”
Motions slow and easy, Cole guided my dagger hand toward the dummy’s torso. “Zombies might not feel pain, but they feel force. Stab one here—” we sank the dagger in the side “—and the body will bow in that direction, leaving the other side wide-open.”
He guided my sword hand up and pretended to decapitate the dummy. This caused my arms to crisscross.
“As you know, in a real battle you often have zombies on your left and your right,” he continued. “Use your momentum to your advantage and spin.” He spun us both, uncrossed my arms in a graceful arc, stretching them wide, wider, until my body formed a cross.
Had zombies actually been rampaging toward us, I would have stabbed one and decapitated another. Just like that. Cole stepped away from me and had me repeat the sequence again and again, until I could do it with my eyes closed.
“What are the rules of battle?” he asked me while I worked.
For the most part, his rules meshed with my dad’s. When there was a discrepancy, I always sided with Cole. He had more experience. “Never stand still.”
“And?”
“If my dagger lodges inside a zombie’s body, let it go. Don’t try to jerk it out. That will leave me exposed and cost me precious seconds that I can’t afford to spare.”
“And?”
“If I lose all my weapons before disabling the majority of the zombies, I shouldn’t try to do any frying because I won’t be able to get my hands on them for long enough to do any good. I should run and hide.”
“Not should. Will.”
Finally the dummy was removed and I was allowed to swing my sword freely. The metal whistled menacingly. I was learning how to twirl my wrist, and thereby the sword, in a swift motion that would prevent anyone from tracking—and blocking—its descent.
When Cole was satisfied with that, and I was aching from overworking previously overworked muscles, we moved to the firing range. He selected a .22 pistol and several clips. I’d already learned how to take the thing apart, put it back together and load the magazine. In the dark.
Apparently, this kind of gun wouldn’t do much damage to a zombie, and definitely wouldn’t stop one, but it was perfect for beginners because of the low recoil.
With plugs in my ears, I aimed at the paper target and squeezed at the trigger until I ran out of ammo. I set the safety on, and placed the gun on the counter in front of me, then removed the plugs.
“Better,” Cole said. “You would have nicked his arm and hip this time, rather than the air around him.”
I scowled at him. “I’m doing the best I can.”
Before he could reply, my phone vibrated in my pocket. “Hang on,” I said, going for it. I checked the screen. Nana. She’d learned how to text, though she refused to abbreviate anything.
I want you home for dinner.
I replied with a quick: OK.
NOW.
A sigh left me. “I’ve gotta go home.” I bet another teacher had called her and complained about my behavior.
“All right. In a minute.” Cole pulled me against him and settled his chin on the top of my head. I really liked how tall he was. He made me feel small in comparison. “Do you know me well enough yet? Do you trust me?”
“I—I—” Was completely caught off guard, despite the hint he might or might not have dropped a while ago. Whatever happens with you… “I’m just a wee bit confused,” I admitted. “Why are you asking?”
“We told each other we’d get to know each other before we got serious.”
My jaw dropped. “So that’s what we’ve been doing lately?”
He leaned back, his eyes slitted, and focused on a single target. Me. “You mean you haven’t?”
“Uh, well, uh, hmm.” He still wanted to date me? Had always wanted to date me? “What about what you said to Mackenzie? Not today, but before.”
“I didn’t think we were any of her business. And I can see restraint won’t work with you,” he said drily. He stroked his fingers up and down the ridges of my spine. “So let me help you out. My favorite color is—hell, I don’t know. I’ve never cared enough to think about it. My favorite movie is—what else—Zombieland. But not because the good guys win in the end, though that’s a plus, but because Emma Stone is hot.”
I snorted. He was such a guy.
“My favorite band is—”
“Let me guess,” I interjected. “White Zombie? Slayer?”
“Red. And no, not just because I want zombies to bleed. But what about you? Who do you like? Because honestly, I’m surprised you know White Z and Slayer.”
“I like Red, too, but I’m partial to Skillet. Used to listen to them with my sister. But why wouldn’t I know the other bands?”
“You look so angelic.”
“And do you think angels are hot?” I asked primly, trying to play it cool so that I wouldn’t reveal what a mess I was on the inside. All this time, he’d wanted to get to know me and date me. What craziness!
“The hottest.”
Now I laughed, another real one that shook my entire body. Amusement was coming more easily these days. Which was kind of odd. I should have been more somber than ever. There was so much going on, so much to lose…so much to fear.
“In that case,” I said, “yes, I am beginning to trust your judgment. But…has anything happened with Mackenzie since your breakup?” I had to know.
“No. We’re better as friends, and I think she’s coming to realize that.”
“We’re friends,” I reminded him.
His hold tightened. “I don’t want to be your friend, Ali. I want to be more.” His fingers snuck under my T-shirt, so that we were skin-to-skin. “Leave your window unlocked tonight. I’m coming over to prove it.”
For a moment, I couldn’t catch my breath. “Prove it by continuing my lessons?” I managed to wheeze out. I knew what he wanted to do, I admit it, but I was beyond nervous and utterly unsure about how to respond.
He kissed my temple. “Exactly. Just not what I was teaching you in the ring.”
How a day so ripe with promise could end so craptastically, I’ll never know.
Cole’s dad called him away, so Trina offered to drive me home. There wasn’t a rabbit cloud in the sky, which was a small mercy, but my grandparents were waiting on the porch, rocking on the swing, which was not. I entered the coolness of the day and shooed Trina off before they could approach and ask her questions about herself.
The moment they spotted me, they stood and stalked into the house. I followed, leaving the setting sun—and the chaos that came with it—behind.
“Everything okay?” I asked, gazing longingly at the stairs that led to my bedroom.
“Let’s just sit down and enjoy our dinner, all right?” Nana said. “We’ll talk afterward.”
I chewed on my lower lip. I knew better than to protest. “All right.”
