Girl Takes Up Her Sword Read Online Free PDF Page B

shrugged, puzzled, as Jenkins walked briskly to the exit at the far end of the building.
    ~~~~~~~
    After the last match, and after Coach Parker made some final remarks about the importance of controlling initiative, the men started moving towards the locker room and the women on the team crowded around Emily.
    “You’re still in high school?” one asked.
    “You joining us in the fall?” asked another.
    “We could sure use someone like you here.”
    Emily smiled at all of them. It seemed to reassure them just to make small talk with her.
    “I think I’m going to Charlottesville in the fall,” she said.
    “It’s not because of Calder, is it? He’s an ass, but the guys aren’t all like him.”
    “Nah. He’s not so bad, you know, once you kick his ass,” she said with a smile.
    They all laughed. Eventually, the circle broke up and headed for the locker room. A few probably noticed Hankinson hovering in the background the whole time, obviously waiting his turn with her.
    “You didn’t want to spar before. How come?” she asked, once they were alone.
    “I’m the captain of the team. It wouldn’t have served any purpose.”
    “I’m not sure I understand.”
    “If I lost to you, it might have undermined the team’s morale, and if I won, it would have distracted them from the lesson you were trying to teach.”
    “I suppose,” she said, with a shrug.
    “But if you’re still offering...”
    Once they had pads on, they circled each other for a few seconds, Hankinson looking over his gloves at her, trying to find an opening. He’d analyzed her technique carefully during the other matches. He was cautious, conservative. She would have to draw him out by initiating the action.
    A quick front kick tapped him on the knee. Instead of trying to block it, as most opponents would have, he conceded the strike and moved to block the high roundhouse kick he guessed was coming next. When she flicked her foot up to his ear, one hand blocked and the other punched to where her head should have been. But she leaned over with the kick, ducking under and deflecting his fist up while striking lightly with a ridge hand to the groin. He reached down instinctively to block—too late—only to find a second roundhouse kick touch his temple. He backed away and smiled.
    “Smooth. You were two steps ahead.”
    “Why didn’t you block the first kick?” she asked.
    “It was too fast, and it wouldn’t score anyway.”
    “Yeah, but in a real fight, and with full force, it could have disabled you.”
    “That sounds like Calder talking.”
    “He’s not wrong about that, you know. He just overestimates his own abilities.”
    “Is that what you said to him after you smoked him?”
    “More or less.” She paused for a second. “Guys like that, they think the rules of sparring unfairly prevent them from using all their strength. What he needs to realize is that, in a real fight, I’d never let him use any of his strength.”
    A shadow seemed to pass over her face, and her eyes grew steely, as her thoughts turned to darker matters.
    “No one comes out of a real fight unscathed,” she went on. “Not the winner, and certainly not the loser. For all his bluster, he’s not ready for that... and there’s nothing more I can do to help him understand.”
    Hankinson tried to smile at her. Her understanding of conflict was profound, maybe even a little scary, he thought. She didn’t get that in a karate class. Just what sort of fights has she been in?
    “Again?” he asked, gesturing with his gloves.
    This time, she held her open hands out to him. One looked like a greeting, the other a request. They intruded on his space, pressured him to act. He pushed the upper hand aside with a quick block and jabbed from the other side. But he couldn’t quite extricate himself from her hands. Her soft block guided his fist to the side as she curled the other hand around his block. When he lifted his foot for a low kick, she kicked it to the