The Bodies We Wear by Jeyn Roberts Page B

walk away. “I thought the reason you don’t take gym is because you have asthma.”
    “Yeah? So?”
    “You sure didn’t seem winded when you beat up Trevor. In fact, you look to be in pretty darn good shape for someone who can’t breathe.”
    “What can I say?” I slam my locker. “I hate competitive sports.”

    Gazer isn’t around when I get home. So I start on my homework and then head down to the basement to do a little training before grabbing something to eat. First I empty the water buckets from where the rain has leaked through the cracks in the walls. We have more leaks than buckets to collect them. There is a drain in the middle of the basement where most of the water ends up. The floor is constantly wet and slippery, which is good. It mimics the real world and gives me an advantage. I’ll never have to worry about slipping on wet cement and giving my enemies an advantage.
    I don’t know what the basement was originally used for. Maybe to keep records. Maybe a place where the nuns used to sleep. It’s hard to tell. Now it’s just a large room filled with all sorts of exercise equipment that Gazer has managed to salvage and fix over the years. A treadmill is in the corner but it doesn’t work anymore. No amount of tinkering can save it now. Gazer keeps saying he’s going to throw it out but he doesn’t get around to it.
    There are mismatched weight sets. A stationary bicycle that’s slightly lopsided. In one corner is a small room where we keep the weapons. No guns. Neither Gazer nor I believe in them. Guns are too loud. They bring too much attention.
    But we do have the knives. Those are the weapons I work with every day. My goal is to master them. And I’m already very good. Even Gazer admits I’m better than him.
    To be a fighter, I need the ability to clear my mind of all thoughts and burdens. Gazer makes me do yoga and meditation. Personally, I hate yoga but I do it because I need to be the very best. But today I’m not able to achieve a clear head, no matter how long I try to maintain downward-facing dog. I can’t stop thinking about everything; too many thoughts do circles inside my brain. So after half an hour or so, I grab my towel and head upstairs.
    Defeated by my brain.
    I decide to start dinner but the stove isn’t working. A new leak has sprung above the stove and the water has soaked all the burners and the flames have gone out. I get a new bucket from under the sink and place it on the back burner to try to catch the dripping. Water begins to collect in the bottom, making a hollow thudding noise that sounds like a heart beating. It takes me a while to find matches but that turns out to be a useless chore because I can’t relight the burners to save my life.
    I kick the stove in frustration, leaving a nice dent and a black scuff mark the size of my foot.
    “What did the stove ever do to you?”
    I spin around and Gazer is standing in the door.
    “Burner light is out,” I say. “Everything’s soaking wet. You’ll have to patch the leak or I’m not going to be cooking for a long time.”
    “Sandwiches it is.”
    The fridge is rattling but at least it’s still working. I pull out some meat and cheese and Gazer and I get to work with dinner. It’s not the first time we’ve had to fix sandwiches for dinner.
    “How was your day?” Gazer finds the chopping board in the sink and rinses it off.
    “Fine,” I say. I’m not about to tell him about the deal I’ve made with Paige and Jesse. I don’t think he’d be very happy to hear about it. Although I’m not one for keeping secrets from Gazer, this is something he’s better off not knowing about for now. When I slip out the door tomorrow night, I’ll let him think I’m just making my usual rounds.
    “Did you practice?”
    “A bit.”
    “Good.”
    This small talk might sound mundane, but to me it states that Gazer is no longer angry with me. My little outburst from earlier has been forgotten for now. He doesn’t