“Yeah. I suppose so.” He smiled weakly.
“Come on, let’s not worry about things we can do nothing about. And I promised you a tour of the school today, so let’s shake a leg!” I said, standing up and getting ready to leave the room.
He followed me, still in a thoughtful mood, but after a while we completely forgot about the dream and ended up having a pleasant day, talking and walking lazily around the school grounds on a warm Sunday afternoon.
At first, I thought Tristan would have difficulties fitting in at a new school. After all, it had been decades since he’d spent time with kids his own age. I also thought that it would be hard to disguise his antiquated manners and speech. I thought people would think he was some sort of weirdo, or just plain crazy.
At least my mom had taken care of his clothes; that was a relief. She’d always had amazing fashion sense, so his clothes were quite modern. That was one thing that I didn’t need to worry about.
But what about the handshaking and old-fashioned courtesy – the pulling out chairs for girls, the over-polite manners and general weird ways? How could I explain all those things? I thought it would be only a matter of time before someone discovered his secret.
By secret I meant Tristan being from the Fifties. The other secret, about him not really being my half-brother, was another thing that was constantly in the back of my mind, worrying me.
I was really anxious about Monday, his first day of classes. It was going to be a disaster, I thought. But on Sunday, during our afternoon walk around the school grounds, I started noticing that Tristan seemed to have changed. He was different.
That first week when I’d met him as a ghost, he’d been constantly on his guard, trying to cover up his “condition”. He’d had this armor around himself that he used to control his emotions, and keep me from getting too close. He’d been evasive and mysterious. A puzzle wrapped in an enigma.
The second week, as a living boy, he’d been engulfed in a tidal wave of emotions. He’d ranged between surprise and insecurity, wonder and excitement, worry, fear and happiness. He had been thrown into a whole new world full of alien, modern things he didn’t understand, drowning in new information. He’d tried to absorb all he could master in one single gulp, but I could see how overwhelmed by everything he really was.
And then there was the Tristan after a week of adjustment. The Tristan I was seeing now, walking by my side on his first day at school. And he looked adjusted, believe you me! He looked different, yet at the same time, it was like he was showing his true self for the first time – as if he hadn’t really changed, but was just really himself now. This was who he was supposed to have been all along.
The Tristan I saw now was assertive, relaxed, calm and filled with confidence. He wasn’t looking for approval from anyone; he wasn’t worried what people might think of him. He’d had many years to reflect and ponder about the important things in life, and what truly mattered, and that insight showed in his stance. This self-assurance and maturity radiated from him, showing itself in the way he acted, talked, even looked at other people.
All of these things could have been quite intimidating, if it weren’t for the fact that he was also amazingly charismatic. It was like he had a unique magic. Maybe it was another special talent, like his ability to fade into the background. He had this unbelievable charm pulsing like a radioactive wave out of him, and people could not help but be affected by it.
I noticed the full effect of this during our first complete day together on Monday. People milled around him like moths to a very bright, charming, flame. He was just really, really, likeable. People even thought his polite manners were endearing and oddly cool, can you believe that? And I’d been so worried about covering that up! Then, after a couple more days, people started to want to be near him, to talk to him; they wanted his approval, they wanted so badly to impress him by being the best they could around him. Normally it was only for a few minutes, and when he was gone they returned to their usual flawed ways. But for those brief minutes near Tristan, they actually acted like decent, admirable human beings. It was the most amazing thing to watch!
Even Bradley had fallen for Tristan’s charm. He had arrived, huffing and puffing, trying to intimidate him and show who was the cock in the hen house, ready for a showdown. Just like he had done with me. But Tristan just smiled his bright smile, clapped his arms around Bradley shoulders, and walked with him down the hallway in such a carefree way, chatting away like they were two long-lost friends catching up on old times. It was only a matter of a few seconds before Bradley was completely conquered.
At Tristan’s very first class, he actually had the audacity to arrive in the room talking with the teacher like they were good buddies! And it had been the same teacher for whom I’d refused to stand up in class and introduce myself. Tristan, on the other hand, had no such worries. He entered the room deeply engaged in conversation with the teacher, and the two remained like that for a while, Tristan leaning on the teacher’s desk with his legs crossed. As though they were old colleagues, they chatted on about the town history, current events, the weather, all sorts of conversation, unaware of the students staring at them in silent amazement.
Tiffany turned to me, whispering quietly, “So I guess all Grays have notable first days at school, huh?” She stifled a laugh.
I realized there and then that even teachers weren’t immune to Tristan’s charm!
After fifteen minutes of this nonsense, Professor Martin remembered he actually had a class to teach, so he cleared his throat, presented Tristan to the room and told him to sit down so he could start teaching stuff. Tristan nodded to the class, getting some giggles from the female populace, and then headed to a seat next to me, giving me a quick wink as he sat down. I realized then that he could get away with pretty much anything he wanted to. He could rule this school with his grace and charm, and people would gladly obey without resistance. I wondered if he’d been like this when he’d been alive before. Or was this another side-effect of the binding spell that had brought him back to life?
The whole first week went on like this. It turned out I needn’t have worried about Tristan at all. He was doing just fine. In fact, he was doing way better than me.
Wednesday was Extra Curricular Day.
Tristan, Seth, Tiffany and I were standing in front of the list board in the locker-room hallway. I knew I had to pick at least two extra activities if I were to graduate in July. But Tristan and I had arrived late, and all the cool activities were full by then. That was a bummer.
“Hey, Joey, I’m team captain of the cheerleader squad. I can get you in, if you like,” Tiffany suggested, poking me in the ribs.
I looked at her with a “Really, me?” expression on my face. “Tiffany, don’t take this personally, but I rather die a horrible death than get caught in one of those cheerleader outfits. And I’m not much of a cheerful person, as you might have noticed. Plus I suck at anything that vaguely resembles dancing. So, I don’t think so. But thanks!” I said, smiling at her.
She crossed her arms, pouting at me. I pretended not to notice and kept on skimming through the lists on the board.
Then Seth pointed to a list with just a few names on it. “You can sign up for the music class! I’m in it. Well, kinda. I’m enrolled, but I don’t actually take the classes. We have a special deal with Professor Rubick,” he said, leaning on the board.
“We?” I asked.
“Yeah. Me, Harry, Josh and Sam. You know. The band,” he said, all smug.
“Really? Music class … it sounds good,” I muttered to myself. I’d had a great time with Seth rearranging his song. And I’d had quite a few piano classes in the past, and some guitar too. It should be fairly easy to follow those up here. I wondered, though, why the music list had so few names enrolled. Well, I guess music wasn’t for everybody …
Tristan was all over the board, scanning up and down the lists with a frantic expression. He was having a hard time picking just
two things out of all the options. He thought everything was great, and interesting, and exciting, and couldn’t decide which one was the best. This was another thing he mentioned all the time to me: how great it was to be able to go back to school again, to actually finish his studies, since he hadn’t been able to back then. He was thrilled to have this second chance and he showed it every way he could! I think there wasn’t a single student out there more excited about school than Tristan. He sure was taking his second chance in life very seriously.
He peeked over my shoulder to see what list I was looking at now. “Ooooh, man! Music class? That would be swell … I mean great!” he corrected in a heartbeat. “I definitely want to do that one!” he said, grabbing a pen and scribbling his name on the list.
I shrugged my shoulders and wrote my name on it too. I still had one activity left to choose, though. “What are yours, Tiff?” I asked. Maybe I’d like the ones she’d picked.
“Oh, I have my cheerleader squad, that you clearly hate so much,” she said, sticking out her tongue at me, “and acting class. It’s loads of fun!”
Before I could consider that option, my eyes passed swiftly over another quite empty list on the board. My eyes widened in wonderment. Martial Arts! I’d loved my aikido and kung fu classes back at my old town, and I’d been really good at them both!
The grayish cloaked figure drifted back into my mind and it made me think that maybe this would be a good time to pick up my martial arts training. Maybe it’d be good to be able to defend myself with more efficiency.
I remembered how scared I’d felt with those black empty eyes and sharp fingers stretching out to me in my dream. I hate feeling scared and defenseless. Maybe it was time to be prepared to fight back. Martial Arts class it was, then! I scribbled my name on the list. Seth leaned on my shoulders, peeking to see what I’d chosen as my second activity.
“M.A., really?” he asked, amused.
“Yeah, it should be fun,” I said, trying to sound casual. I didn’t want him to know about my inner fears and private nightmares.
“Fun is not a word to describe Sensei Kingsley’s classes,” he said. “But you’ll have to run if you’re serious about attending. The first M.A. class starts in … fifteen minutes. And let me tell you, Kingsley does not like late attendees. Seriously. Go. Now!”
Seeing Seth’s dead-serious face, I bolted to my room, leaving a dumbstruck Tiffany behind and a laughing Seth at her side. Tristan was still darting back and forth in front of the board, trying to pick his second activity. I needed to change into my sweats and T-shirt, and my room was so freaking far away! I’d have to run like the wind to get there in less than fifteen minutes!
Sixteen minutes later, I arrived, panting heavily, in the M.A. practice room. I glanced around, relieved to see that Sensei Kingsley hadn’t arrived yet. A few students were already there, properly dressed, stretching and chatting, waiting for the class to start.
And then I noticed Bradley amongst them, his bulk standing out from the small group of boys around him. I grunted quietly, right about the same time he glanced at my way and saw me standing there at the front of the room. He smirked evilly and headed towards me. Apparently, the truce with charming Tristan wasn’t extended to family members. Bummer.
“So, are you lost, Gray? Shouldn’t you be looking for the cheerleader try-outs? I’ll bet Tiffany can sneak you in without anyone noticing. Who says you need to have skills, or good looks to get in, if your BFF is captain of the squad?” he jeered, sneering at me.
Ouch. I was glad I hadn’t accepted Tiff’s offer, or I would be feeling like crap right now. And he’d just called me ugly and uncoordinated. That kind of stung. I knew I wasn’t model material, but hearing all that out loud was kind of hurtful. Bradley was a real jerk!
“Well, Bradley, I guess that means you’re not far from having your special dream come true, then! Even with your ugly mutt and monkey gait, I think Tiffany can get you in the cheer squad if you really want!” I retorted right back at him. A few students sniggered behind his back.
His expression changed again from amused to pissed off. I seemed to have a knack for making that happen to him. He walked with a menacing stride towards me. “You’re very good with the talking, Gray. But why don’t we start training a little early today? Care to join me for a practice on the mat? Or are you too afraid, without your little rocker boys at your side?” he mocked, with an evil glint in his eyes.
I looked around the room. I was the only girl, and all the boys were looking eagerly between Bradley and me, waiting for the show to start. I could see he wanted to teach me a lesson and scare the little girl away from this class. I wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do, but Bradley-Jerk-Face left me no choice in the matter. If I backed down now, it would look like I was chickening out. I gave him a quick glance to check on his belt color. It was white. Come on! Was he kidding me? He was totally underestimating me, just because I was a girl! And because he was two times, make that three times bigger than me! But size didn’t matter on the mat. Anyone with a brain knew that. Well, brains sure weren’t at the top of Jerk-Face’s list of qualities.
So I shrugged and walked on to the mat, accepting his invitation. He was momentarily taken aback, but quickly regained his composure. I stopped at the middle and turned to look at him. He followed reluctantly; he’d thought I was never going to accept it, just crawl back the way I came, in fear and shame. Guess again, pal!
I put one foot in front of the other, gaining balance and preparing to make my moves. White Belt wasn’t going to know what hit him! I reached out my arm and made the famous Matrix hand invitation. It was kind of cocky, and showy, and totally unnecessary, but I couldn’t help myself. The look on his face was just priceless!
Then he charged in my direction, like a bull seeing the reddest flag of his life!
Chapter Sixteen
Vigil
The whole thing was over quite fast. It was easy to swerve out of the way of Bradley’s first charge. I didn’t even know what he was trying to do; there was no coordinated plan of attack, no training whatsoever, he just ran at me like a stunned cockroach. So I let him pass by me with ease. He stumbled forward and turned around, surprised at my quick side-step.
I shrugged at him with a “What was that?” look on my face and a tiny smirk. It made him even more pissed. That was good. You can tell if your opponent is good or not by how quickly you can make him lose his temper. You lose your temper, you’re bound to make a mistake. A really bad mistake.
He charged again, even more carelessly than before, but faster this time. I was a little impressed at his speed, given he was such a burly guy. But I guessed he was captain of the basketball team, and you couldn’t play that well if you were a slow mover.
I decided I wasn’t going to kick his ass today, then. He was a white belt, after all; it wasn’t allowed. You have to honor the high color of your belt, otherwise it isn’t truly earned. I only needed to deflect and defend for now.
I switched my feet, giving another step to the side. I was just shuffling around, doing aikido evading moves. I let him pass by me again, giving a small push on his back, which added to his momentum and made him stumble forward even harder. He fell face first on to the mat. I heard a lot of muffled laughs around us. An audience was gathering for the show. I needed to finish this quickly and with as little fuss as possible.
Bradley stood up fast, facing me. Time to make him a tiny, wee bit more angry.
“What? How are you supposed to fight me if you can’t even catch me?” I teased, relaxing my fight stance on purpose so he would think I had my guard down. He took the bait and lunged forward, trying to grab my arms. That was a bad, bad mistake. You never try to grab an arm from an aikidoka. Had he never seen a Steven Seagal movie? It was such a classic move!
His hands brushed my wrists for a fraction of a second. The secret was all in the timing: you had to let him make the first part of the move, but not complete the action entirely, so you
could use his own movement against himself. I twisted my wrists in a fluid twirl, making his fingers lose his grasp completely, and took another half-circle side-step, ending up by his side. While I was shifting my position, I swiftly grabbed his arm, twisting it backwards.
So within a few seconds, I had him hostage. If he tried to make a move, I’d twist his wrist just a fraction, which would force him to stop or he’d break his own arm. It was all about twists and pressure applied in the right places. You didn’t need muscles; you just needed to be fast and use your opponent’s own moves.
He soon realized he was immobilized. And under my power. The more he struggled, the more I tightened my grip on his wrist and the more it hurt. If he pushed or pulled too hard, he would cause his own wrist fracture. Our training session was officially over! Ta-da!
I heard clapping from someone in the group. I raised my eyes and saw that it was Josh. So he’d signed up for Martial Arts class too! And he seemed to be enjoying the scene immensely. I gave him a tiny, quick smile. It wasn’t right to gloat over your rival’s misfortune, especially someone with just a white belt. Bradley tried to pull away from me again, but I didn’t let him. I twisted my grip just a little, making him wince in pain. I leaned forward a fraction so that only he, and not our audience, would be able to hear me.
“So, before I release you, let’s make a deal, shall we? After I let you go, don’t try any payback, Bradley. It would only make things worse. And you have to remember how important a wrist is for a basketball player, isn’t that right? I’d hate to see you hurt, I really would. But if you attack me again, I WILL defend myself. And believe me, I know a lot of different ways to break a lot of bones in your body. That’s not a threat, it’s a promise,” I said quietly. “Do we have a deal?”