Page 60 of The Healing Dragon
His words hit too close to home. Have I truly been walking around looking half-guilty?
“Shut it,” Liz, a fellow soldier and friend, tells the others.
Eve looks down at her shoes while Esteban scowls back at Liz, offended to receive an order from a soldier beneath him.
“Focus, Jesse.” Liz says. Her eyes tell me to get my head on the tasks before me.
“Perhaps you’re the one needing to be saved.” Roman shakes his head. “I could’ve finished you in the time it took you to listen to those idiots.”
I don’t answer him as I toss my first punch in his direction. Roman doesn’t take it easy on me. Before long, all thoughts regarding the soldiers’ comments vanish. The lack of information coming from Santiago and the existence of Janelle somewhere in this castle fall to the back burner.
Staying on my feet becomes my only focus. None of the punches I throw ever connect. Roman skillfully blocks each successive attack. I grow tired and the fire inside me dies one breath at a time. After a bloody nose, my breath grows heavy, and it’s not long before I’m on the floor tasting the dirt of the training circles. I land on my back and I let out a laugh that keeps me from getting up. Roman gives me his hand and I take it.
“That smile is worth the bruises,” he says.
I take a closer look at him and realize I did manage to dosome damage. His ear is bloody and there are bruises on different parts of his face and arms. I pat his back.
“We didn’t use magic,” I say, finally realizing it.
Roman shrugs. “You wanted a physical release. Magic wouldn’t have accomplished that.”
“We can volunteer a girl next time,” Esteban says with a wink.
This time my swing isn’t blocked on time. It lands right on his jaw. The impact makes a smacking sound that catches the attention of most of those around the circle. Shocked and amused expressions are shared amongst those around.
“Walk it off,” Resse tells Esteban while clapping. “Next two get in the center.”
I walk off to the locker room. The fire inside me lit once again. The few people inside see the state of my face and rush out of the room. Roman is the only one to follow me inside and stay.
“That good humor was short-lived,” He says, scratching his head.
“Fuck off,” I yell in his direction.
“You are mad at someone, but it’s not me. It’s not even her. You cannot hate her, so you feel like a traitor.”
I wipe the blood off my face and pace the floor. My chest is heaving as I breathe. “Do you think it’s true?”
“What?” Roman takes a seat on a bench.
I point to the door. “What they’re saying. That she played me all this time.”
“They don't know anything. They make assumptions, that's all.” He shrugs.
“She has done awful things,” I say, trying to convince myself why I should stay away from her.
“Haven’t we all?” He sits back and wipes his hands on a white cloth he picks from the ground. “I’m not saying any of ushave the score she does, but perhaps when all people know about you is the most awful thing you have ever done, then it’s easy to point fingers.”
This is all messed up.
He stares at the wall as if it can show him the answer to all this. “We have known her since she was no bigger than three feet tall, climbing on the side of your window to spend the night listening to music and eating our snacks. You think we never caught on that she would eat my cream cookies?”
“You ate a lot of those growing up.”
I recall the snacks that, despite my aversion to them, became part of my daily route to grab from the kitchen.
He rubs his chin. “I sure did, but the number of boxes doubled during the summer.” He shakes his head. “That was not just me.”
“What now?” I ask my older brother. I look up at him and for the first time in years, I’m searching my big brother’s eyes for answers.
