Page 23 of Hits Different

“Different”.

“I’m starting to see Millie’s point”.He steps back to admire his handiwork. “There, all set”.

I take in my reflection, swallowing down the familiar pang in my chest.I wish my dad were here to see this. “Thanks. Now, as for that patience dig”, I advance on him, and he twists away, sensing an attack.

Two seconds later, I tackle him, forcing him onto the floor. He’s definitely getting buffer, but he’s no wrestler. “Tap”, I instruct, after submitting him easily. He squirms, but he’s laughing too hard to put up much of a fight.

Suddenly I catch sight of a shadow in Brandon’s mirror. It’s the Senator, watching us from across the landing. I shiver. Brandon’s dad has never liked me. He pauses just long enough for me to see him, before he turns and stalks down the stairs.

“I’m…tapping…” Brandon grunts, his face bright red. I release him hurriedly, and he scrambles back to his feet, sucking air. “Ow”, he says pointedly, holding his jaw.

“Keep going with those weights. We’ll have a rematch in a few weeks”. I slip on my borrowed shoes. After I finish tying the laces, I feel the weight of his gaze across my back. My eyes find his in the mirror. “What?”

“That hurt!” he shakes his head, half in disbelief, half in amusement. “You never apologise, do you?”

The image of my father evaporates before my eyes, leaving me in a world that took everything I loved away. It’s not me who owes the apology. It never will be. “No, I don’t”.

Chapter 10

Summit

Parker

I’ve been here for two days, and I want to quit.

I figured I’d be staying with Simon, but he’s allocated me the attic room in a residential house on the campus. I’ve got a couple of roommates, Will and Archie. They’re twins, from the UK, who are on their gap year. They’re nice enough, even if they keep calling soccer ‘football’, and seem completely obsessed by everything American.

I haven’t evenseenSimon yet unless you count his face popping up on the induction video that I was forced to watch by myself. I’ve been assigned a desk and told to answer a phone that never actually rings, as most clients apparently contact Simon directly or email Sheryl, the office manager.

Two weeks ago, I was a college student, with a job and on my way to my first amateur fight as a mixed martial artist. Now, I’m a nobody with a landline.

The reception door flies open. Sheryl struggles in under the weight of three large delivery boxes. I turn off the MMA video I’d been watching and hop off my chair. “Let me help. Where do these go?”

“Thanks, hon”. Sheryl gestures in the direction of the store room, and I lug them through. There’s a ton of crap in here, in stark contrast to the pristineness of the rest of the facility. It reminds me of when I was a kid and got told to clean my room.

I’d shove everything in a closet and hope for the best.

“I should clean up in here”, Sheryl follows my gaze. “Simon hates it”.

“Still a clean freak?” She doesn’t answer, which I take as a yes. Unless she doesn’t want to start bitching about her boss with the new guy. I nod at an old whiteboard with a bunch of faded writing on it. “What’s this?”

“Oh, that. I’d forgot it was even here”, Sheryl tuts, “That’s what we call the long-term job list. Or more accurately, the shit list”.

“The shit list?”

“The list of shit jobs nobody wants to do and are never gonna get done”.Netting on the top fields. Repaint gates. New signs.Some are more abstract.Garrison—accommodation deal.“Have you seen your British roommate this morning?”

“Which one?”

“The loud one”.Archie.

“He’s supposed to be doing an induction with a new client”. Sheryl looks at the clock, lips pursed together. “First impressions matter in a place like this. Some of these yuppie types are pretty entitled. Keep ‘em waiting and they’ll start throwing around one-star reviews before you know it…”

“I could do it”, I offer. Archie didn’t get in until late and from the headboard rattling coming from his room, he wasn’t alone. I wouldn’t put money on him showing up on time.

Sheryl hesitates, “That’s nice of you, but…”

“The boss wouldn’t be happy about his reprobate cousin being the welcoming committee for an important new client?” I finish for her. Her pink cheeks suggest I’ve guessed correctly. “There’s instructions to follow, right?”

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