#superhoes

Dan had, at that point, been "training" since he agreed to help out. Claudia eavesdropped on several sessions, but I was determined to stay out of it. Me and physical excerise don't go together very well.

But since I had "decided to get involved", I had been corralled into agreeing to self-defense class.

Yeah, it's about as fun as it sounds.

The first day of it, I think we gave the instructor a migraine.

The instructor introduced herself as Kathryn, and told the four of us (yes, Aaliyah had been roped into it as well, poor her) would be working with her as a group.

"I'm here to help you learn the basics of self-defense," she said. "Have any of you had any training before?"

I had done research, of course - for my writing, and Dan had learned a little in his training, but most of that was geared towards using his device - spotting clues as to what’s happening - as well as avoiding situations like this. I guess after White attacked us, he could use the training. I, however, am still convinced I don't need it.

Kathryn pursed her lips when none of us offered an answer. "Alright, we'll do this from the beginning. First, lets warm up."

She had us move our arms around in circles before strectching, and had us touch ours toes.

Claudia immediately bent over and touched the floor, hands flat on the ground. Aaliyah could reach to about her ankles - neither me nor Dan got much farther than our knees.

"This doesn’t makes me feel good about myself,” Dan muttered.

Kathryn looked over Dan. “You’re bending at the wrong point. Try to bend here.”

The position was starting to give me a headache, so I stood up, but Kathryn clucked her tongue at me.

“You need to take this more seriously, JD,” she scolded.

“I am,” I argued. “It’s just uncomfortable.”

With a sigh, I bent over again.

“Well, you’re in the right position,” Kathryn said. “You’re just not flexible.”

“Thanks,” I replied.

“You need to work on that,” Kathryn chided.  

After stretches, Kathryn had us all stand up and fall into a “fight stance.”

She gave me a surprised look. “That’s actually a pretty solid stance. You just want to have your feet more like this.”

I fixed my stance as Kathryn was forced to go into more detail with Claudia. She forced Dan to raise his fists more, and Aaliyah to spread her feet.

“That’s better,” Kathryn said.

We went over the basics of punching, and Kathryn asked us if any of us knew where the most vulnerable parts of the body were.

“Nose,” Claudia suggested.

“Diaphram,” I added. “Knock the breath out of them. Or right in the throat.”

“All three good places,” Kathryn agreed. “You seem to know a little bit about fighting, JD.”

Kathryn didn’t seem like the person to appreciate me stating that the only reason I knew so much was because I just spent an hour working on a scene in my historical romance that involved fist fighting, so I just shrugged.

After class, I was tired and covered in floor-dirt and sweat.  When I got home, I immediately showered.

“I’m exhausted,” I complained when my mother got home.

She clicked her tongue. “You don’t have my sympathy. Not after scaring me half to death the other week.”

“I told you-“

“It was Claudia’s fault, yes.” My mom sighed. “JD, you have to be more aware of what’s going on around you.”

I nodded. “I know. I just – I didn’t really want to leave her.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” my mom agreed. “Claudia is going to get herself in serious trouble if she doesn’t have someone watching her. It just doesn’t have to be you.”

“Especially since I’m not very good at it,” I muttered.

A few weeks later, and Kathryn decided we were ready to spar against her partner, Pat.

Poor Dan, as always, went first.

His eye for detail helped him dodge every swing. He was able to dodge strikes I never saw coming. But his technique was still off, and Pat had no problem dodging his strikes, either. After about a few minutes, Dan tripped, and Pat landed a soft punch to the shoulder.

Kathryn let him sit down after a few more rounds, and he was out of breath.

“It’s not like I’m getting much better,” Dan complained to me.

“You’re faster,” I pointed out. “You can dodge amazingly. If you can’t get hit – that’s half the battle, right?”

Dan made a face. “Right up until I trip over my own feet. If I wasn’t so clumsy-“

“You’re not clumsy,” I reminded him. “You’re dyspraxic. There’s a difference.”

“Same result,” Dan argued. “I just have to hope they’re wrong about me needing this. If it comes down to an actual fight-”

“We’ll have your back,” I said.

Claudia went next. She had improved the most, partly because she was already athletic. Defense might take different muscles than cheerleading, but it was the same mental determination, at least according to her.

I couldn’t say, having stayed away from cheerleading all my life.

As Claudia and Pat sparred, both landing a few easy punches, I debated my chances. Athletic activities were never my strong suit – they always tended to hit every sensory issue I had – but I had other skills. For instance, a pool of information from writing. And something of a strategic mind.

(When you get stuck on a scene where character A needs to win a fight realistically for narrative purposes, but A is untrained and character B is stronger and more experienced… well, it makes you think.)

After Claudia was my turn. Kathryn gave a face I couldn’t parse, and Pat and I fell into our fighting stances.

“Usually, we have rules for this kind of thing,” Kathryn said. “But since you’re not exactly… good at this, JD, I just want you to try to hit him as hard as you can.”

I watched him, matching my breath to the opposite of his. I waited a second, and then another, and when he inhaled, I attacked.

My kicks were my strongest.

I picked up my leg and rammed my foot into his torso, hard as I could.

I could hear the breath leave his body as he doubled and stumbled backwards. Kathryn’s eyes widened. Pat gasped for breath.

“Sorry,” I squeaked.