And then I just decided… to forget.
To become someone else instead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - ANYA
The days and weeks go by fast as I recover from my ass-kicking. I join Maart’s group. I don’t exactly know why I end up in Maart’s group. He didn’t invite me in, but when Irina woke me up that first morning I went back to training, I just followed her down to the mats and started jumping rope with her. Then we did drills, and then we did heavy bag, and then the next thing I knew, I was in Maart’s group.
Maart didn’t even object, which was surprising seeing how he hates me and adding another person to his group threw off all the numbers. Now he had five kids, not four. But it all worked out because Maart started training Paulo one-on-one.
I learned though silent conversation that Paulo had a big fight coming up in a few months. But I guess the reality of fight club life never really sunk in until now. I knew that they have to fight for their lives, but I never imagined these fights took place with tiny children.
I knew it. But I didn’t really comprehend it. Until now, this was just a fact floating around in my head. It didn’t have meaning because Pavo was the only fighter I knew and he was always big to me. Already a man in my eyes.
I can’t picture these little ones fighting for their lives in a few months.
All these small kids.
And half of them here have already won at least one fight.
Half of them are little killers.
After I realized that I understood what I was up against. All the kids I would fight in the next test would be winners. Like Irina. She told me she had already won five real-life fights. She has one coming up too.
And that was… sobering. So I just buckled down and did my best. Which is pretty bad, but Irina is a surprisingly good teacher.
If Maart pays any attention to me at all, it is only to yell. He tells me I am worthless. I suck. I will never be a real fighter. I am wasting his time. And I’ve heard him telling Irina more than once that the more time she spends with me on the mat, the lower her chances are of winning the next time out.
I don’t want her to lose. I want her to win. So I work harder to become a better opponent. So that she has to work harder too. So that when she gets to that next fight, she will win. And she will live.
It’s a weird way to look at things, but this is the world as I know it. And it makes total sense to me.
Cort avoids me most of the time. He is constantly carrying Ainsey around, even though she recovered from her pneumonia and looks just fine as far as I can tell.
Word spreads through the camp that Rainer won’t be leaving with Maart, Evard, and Cort when we leave the Rock. And that lifts the spirits of all the kids. But I think Maart is mad about this decision and I think Cort is sad.
So… month two looks nothing like month one.
Halfway through the morning of day six of week three Maart announces that we get the rest of the day off because it’s raining so hard, there is no way to the keep the mats dry.
Rain doesn’t bother us much. It rains at least twice a day and there have been plenty of nights where it drizzled constantly for hours and no one even bothered to go down to the training level to sleep. But this is a true tropical storm, so we all end up in the game room, spread out among the tables, playing games, or cards, or reading.
I choose a book, the one I was looking at all those weeks ago when Cort and I were still the only two people in the world, and I take it into the kitchen so I can be alone.
“Read it to me.”
I look up and find Cort standing in the doorway. This is the first time he’s talked to me since that day I woke up bruised and beaten. I smile at him. Because he’s smiling at me. And he’s shirtless, and dripping wet from being outside where he was tucking things into containers so they don’t blow away in the storm. His dark hair is longer now. Two months with no haircut leaves the ends curling up a little, making it messy and wild. He notices my attention and runs his fingers through it, trying to tame the waves.
I look at the book and start signing the words.
“No. I want you to read it to me, Anya.”
I scoff. Because that’s a joke.