Page 38 of Fractured Fates

“This is fucking annoying,” he tells me, crossing his arms.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, “have I ruined your day?” It’s not like I asked the coach to pick Spencer to give me one-on-one tuition. If he had asked me, I’d have picked one of the much smaller, skinnier dudes. Someone who doesn’t look like he’d crush me to death if he ever fell on top of me.

Spencer’s eyes flick down my body, lingering on my hip bones, before returning to my face.

“Why the fuck don’t you know this stuff? Didn’t your last school teach you anything?”

Remembering what Winnie told me about unregistereds and that my revelation about never going to school had almost made her fit, I decide I’ll keep those bits of information to myself this time. Instead, I walk to the middle of the mat, thinking it’s likely that’s where I’m going to need to be.

“Can we just get started already? The sooner you teach me this stuff, the sooner we can both join the group.” Although, I’m pretty sure joining the group is probably a much better option for him than it is for me.

However, in the next moment, I find my body flipped through the air and my back slammed down hard onto the mat.

And I rethink that. Maybe this won’t be good for me either.

I groan, the air knocked out of my lungs. My body’s still sore from that fight with the man in black. But I think I just gained a whole load more bruises.

I peer up at Spencer. He towers over me, his hands on his hips.

“What the fuck?” I gasp, tempted to send a blast of magic up into his face. There’s nobody here to see me do it, after all.

“You said to get started.”

“You could have warned me.”

“And what would be the point in that? You think an attacker is going to warn you?”

I think of the gang that ambushed the man in black in the forest and the men that found their way to the various homes we lived in over the years. My spine smarting, I climb to my feet.

“I’d use my magic if someone attacked me,” I say, raising my hands.

“And what if they disarm you? Then what?”

“Disarm me?” I say, staring at my hands before I lower them.

“Yeah, disarm you,” he scoffs, like I’m dumb. “Then all you’ll have are your physical combat abilities and skills.”

“If I couldn’t use my magic against someone like you, I wouldn’t stand a chance!”

“You would if you’d actually bothered to learn this stuff.”

I don’t tell him it wasn’t a case of not learning, but of not being taught.

We glare at each other. His eyes are a dark chocolate brown and I swear as I stare into them, I feel that hook, that pull. That same strange magic I felt with the man in black and with Stone. I gasp and my eyes fall to my stomach, just as he lunges for me again, flipping me straight back down onto my back. My spine winces at the impact and my eyes water with the pain.

“Jesus Christ!” I mutter. “Will you cut that out? How is that helping?” I clamber back up. “What am I meant to do? How am I meant to stop you?”

“Fight back, dumbass,” he says, lunging for me again.

“How?” I screech, swiping at him. It’s no use. I’m on my back a third time. I stare up at the ceiling. This is bullshit. “Do you get a kick out of doing this?”

Slowly, I roll back up.

“Doing what? Coach asked me to show you some moves. And I am.”

“That’s not what he said. You’re meant to be– Argh,” I wail as he flips me over again, this time so hard, I swear I see stars.

I lie there panting.