“Of people.”
“That’s weird.”
“Maybe.”
Cassidy:
“You think my heel’s wrong?”
Lena could have said no.
She did not.
“I think your hip starts after your foot announces.”
Cassidy went still.
That was not casual language.
“What did you say?”
Lena:
“Your foot turns before your hip commits. Someone patient will see.”
Cassidy stared.
Facilities manager, Theo Grant, entered hallway carrying invoice.
“Lena, truck’s here.”
She nodded.
“Coming.”
Cassidy:
“Where’d you learn that?”
Lena looked at her.
“Watching.”
Then walked away.
Cassidy stood.
Dylan came behind.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He looked at Lena leaving.
“You mad at cleaning lady again?”
Cassidy:
“Shut up.”
That afternoon, Cassidy searched Lena Brooks on her phone.
Nothing obvious.
Too common a name.
LinkedIn:
three Lena Brooks.
Nurse.
Accountant.
Realtor.
Instagram:
dozens.
No fighter.
Cassidy felt ridiculous.
She closed.
Friday, sparring went badly.
Mara Diaz had sent new training clip online:
pressure.
left hook.
rear kick.
Cassidy watched before practice.
She wanted to prove she could handle forward pressure.
Her teammate Dylan played aggressor.
Round one:
fine.
Round two:
Cassidy backed straight.
Heel early.
Dylan saw.
Closed distance.
He clipped her with jab.
Not hard.
But clean.
Gavin:
“Stop.”
Cassidy:
“I’m fine.”
“Not injury. Pattern.”
He walked into ring.
“Show kick.”
She did.
“No.”
Again.
“No.”
She threw harder.
“Stop fighting me.”
Cassidy took breath.
Gavin:
“Someone told you this?”
She froze.
“What?”
“Your face when I said heel.”
“No.”
“Cass.”
She hated.
“The janitor.”
Gavin blinked.
“What?”
“She said foot turns before hip.”
He looked across gym.
Lena was not there yet.
“Which janitor?”
“Lena.”
Gavin thought.
“Brooks?”
“Yes.”
He looked strange.
Cassidy noticed.
“You know her?”
“No.”
Too fast.
“Gavin.”
“I know name.”
“From?”
He grabbed pads.
“Work.”
“That’s not answer.”
“Kick.”
She stared.
He held pad.
“Cassidy.”
She kicked.
Training resumed.
But now Cassidy knew something.
Gavin knew the name.
That evening, Lena arrived at six.
Cassidy was waiting near locker hall.
Not intentionally, she told herself.
Lena clocked in.
Cassidy:
“You fought?”
Lena stopped.
“What?”
“Before.”
“No.”
Cassidy looked.
“You’re lying.”
Lena:
“I said no.”
“Then why does Gavin know your name?”
“He works here.”
“He acted weird.”
Lena sighed.
“I don’t know.”
“You know kick mechanics.”
“So do physical therapists.”
“You aren’t.”
“No.”
Cassidy:
“You coach?”
“No.”
“Train?”
“Not anymore.”
There.
Cassidy smiled.
“Knew it.”
Lena:
“You asked if I fought.”
“And?”
“No.”
“Train what?”
Lena looked at clock.
“I have work.”
She walked.
Cassidy:
“Boxing?”
No answer.
“Kickboxing?”
Lena stopped.
Just a fraction.
Enough.
Cassidy grinned.
“Oh.”
Lena turned.
“That doesn’t mean what you think.”
“Then what?”
“It means I know a few things.”
Cassidy:
“How few?”
Lena:
“Enough to know you should rest that shin.”
Cassidy’s grin disappeared.
