Tangling Hearts - Faleena Hopkins Page 0,36
told him.”
She lays her head on the pillow, closing her eyes. After a couple seconds, she whispers, “Sometimes it’s really hard to be honest.”
Lifting up the blanket, I climb in. “Yeah, but the other option sucks.”
She nods, and one more tear sneaks out and falls to her pillowcase. I pretend like I didn’t see it.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Annie
When: Sunday Morning. Where: Krav Maga Class. Me: Itching to tell my trainer he saved two lives.
“Alright, Level 1. Everyone in a line.”
Hurriedly dropping my keys and phone along the back wall, I jog across the padded floor to the line. Side by side, my Krav Maga classmates and I face the mirror, just like any you’d see in a gym classroom. We’re all wearing clothing that bears the Krav Maga insignia. I fought this at first, because it felt like conformity, but now I understand it’s for unity. We’re all in this together. We’re going to sweat our asses off together. We’re going to kick each other’s asses together. And it’s so much fun I can hardly stand it.
Our trainer A.J. is one of the very best. I grin, eager to tell him what happened, as he walks the line of students. “Anyone have any injuries?” One guys raises his hand and points to his knee, so A.J. says, “Okay, go easy on it. Modify what you need to.” The guy nods, and A.J. tells us to turn and face the photo of Imi Lichtenfeld. We do this out of respect since he created the art. Then we face A.J. We bow to him and he to us, everyone saying in unison, “Kida!”
“Alright you guys, start jogging back and forth. When I say sprint, run as fast as you can. Go!”
We jog, sprint, bear-crawl, do jumping jacks, full sit-ups, push-ups (which I always do on my knees because I’m weak like that), then all of it AGAIN. They call it a warm-up but I call it hell. Every time, I’m completely drenched with sweat, thankful for deodorant, and proud of myself because it seems to get easier with each class. My endorphins fly around like a sparkler.
A.J. calls out when warm-up is over, “Everyone find a space and face the mirror. If you’re right-handed, your right foot is going to be a little behind you, on the ball of your foot, all ten toes facing the mirror. This is your fighting stance. Your hands ---” he holds his up in front of him like he’s a werewolf, “---are up six inches in front of your face, like this.”
Level 1. That means we always go through the basics. New people join and fall out each class, so every class starts the same. I like the ritual of it, and being back here after everything I’ve been through is better than an anti-depressant pill. People quit smoking doing Krav. They lose weight. They build confidence. And apparently they shoot gunman with their own guns, too.
Def Leppard’s, Pour Some Sugar on Me comes on. I partner up with another girl my size, and when I punch the tombstone pad, she’s knocked back again and again, grinning at me, “Good! That’s really good!” I start laughing and she nods, “Keep going! You got it!” So I focus, relax my body so ‘they’ never see the punch coming, and then BAM, I lunge forth and punch the pad hard. My partner catches herself from falling. “Again!” she cheers. I do a combo-punch and she tilts the pad, which means she wants me to do a hammer-fist, so I slam the side of my fist down like I’m hammering a nail, and every fiber of my being jumps to attention, a smile stuck on my face. We switch places and I cheer her on, just like she did, me.
A.J. finally calls out, “Time! That looked pretty good. Now remember, when you’re out there, there’s no pad held up for you, and they’re not going to just stand and let you hit them. You’re going to do whatever it takes. That’s why we train you one attack at a time so it becomes second nature. That way when someone confronts you – and we hope they never do – you’ll have a lot of weapons at your disposal. I saw some of you doing hammer-fist, combos, and elbows. That’s great. So what we’re going to do now, is defense. You’re going to learn how to get out of choke-holds.”
All of us take a knee as A.J. grabs one of the more