Page 82 of Greased

“I know you have muscle memory but if we want you to actually remember, we need to start from the basics.”

I nod, watching as Nicky turns around and grabs punching pads, similar ones that Dawson and I used the other day. Putting them on, he nods towards the sparring ring. Nicky stands with his hands out ready and I shake my limbs out making sure they are loose.

“Right, I want you to punch the pads. Don’t focus too much on putting much force behind it. Just get in the rhythm of punching one at a time.”

I nod my head as I clench my fists, making sure to keep my thumbs out. I bring my arms up into a fighting stance, something I caught from watching Blake and Grover. I know I’ve at least done one thing right as Nicky gives me an approving smile.

I snap my hand out, punching one of the pads. I instantly look at Nicky for the approval I feel I need from him right now. His smile settles the raw anxiety I feel in my chest. The unease I feel is palpable.

I take a breath before I snap my other fist out, punching the other pad. I know I put a little more force behind that one when Nicky steps back slightly.

As I catch the sight, it feels as though some kind of veil comes over my vision. Like something within me awakens at the spot of weakness.

My next punches snap out with more force causing Nicky to put more strength in his defence.

After a few more hits, I snap myself out of my advance, feeling those slivers of resolve wanting to snap. I’m thankful that this time I seem to still hold the majority of the pieces of myself intact. Not wanting a repeat of the other day with Dawson, I pull myself up short.

I pant for breath, knowing I exerted myself more than Nicky intended for our first session.

Eventually I look up at him and catching him smiling down at me, a proud sheen in his eyes.

“You did good, baby girl. You are ready for this.”

I blow out a breath, “Sometimes it doesn’t feel like I am.”

It's all too easy for my insecurities to make themselves known.

“Why do you say that?” Nicky questions as he slides the pads off his hands, not giving any mind to where he throws them behind him.

“This world seems completely unrealistic sometimes. Like how is this life mine? It seems so far from the little beach-side Aussie girl who worked in a café for a living. Yet here I am set to take over from my father. To be the person that an entire gang turns towards for guidance. To lead jobs to stop trafficking rings. To potentially kill people?” I shake my head as I blow out a breath, willing myself to not get worked up yet again. I’ve cried way too many tears, I don’t need to let anymore fall but fuck if they don’t threaten their presence.

“I don’t want to let anyone down. Because even though it can feel so far-fetched, it feels so right. Like every single awful thing that has happened was always meant to lead me back here. That I needed to lose everything to become the person I need to be to be able to do this.”

After a beat of silence, Nicky takes a step towards me, “Scarlett. You are made for this life. I see it in you every day. I saw it in you back in Australia even when both of us didn’t know what it was or what any of this meant. You have the most admirable resilience I’ve ever seen in a person. The way you keep hitting back at my cockhead of a brother even when he is relentless in trying to tear you down,” he laughs, helping to break some of the tension seeping into the air. “He is digging himself an impossible grave when it comes to you.”

I shrug my shoulders, “Sounds like a him problem.”

Nicky laughs, “Too right, baby.”

Ipick up the punching pads back up again as I read Scarlett’s demeanour. Even though she tried to act nonchalant at the mention of Dawson, I can see at just how much even a whisper of his name gets her riled up. The tension slowly starts to simmer under her skin. Her fists clench and I hold up the pads, ready for the onslaught she is about to hit me with. Her face slowly shuts down and the cool killer she is destined to be takes over.

Her features are sharp and she hones in on the pads like they are her greatest enemy. Her first punch is quick and full of impact. I step one of my feet back to help balance myself.

Her next few punches come out in quick succession, each with more force than the last. Before I know it, she is snapping both fists out, hitting the pads with a strength I don’t think either of us knew she possessed.

To say I’m surprised is an understatement. It's been hard trying to connect the two Scarlett’s together even though they are the sameperson. The Scarlett from Australia seems so far from the Scarlett in front of me who is all but raining down hell on me.

The person in front of me is exactly who the Thunderbirds need to lead them. She isn’t the meek little girl that Dawson is making her out to be.

She is anything but.

She is a fucking warrior. Full of sheer determination and feminine rage, something I’m glad she hasn’t aimed directly at me too harshly.

Doubting her would be your downfall.

I let her go until she is exhausted. When she finally stops her fight, she steps back as a sheen of sweat rolls down her face. The inner killer slowly melts away as my baby girl slowly comes back to me.

I don’t move. Instead I just watch her as she slowly gets her breath. Allowing her to come back to herself.

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