The question landed harder than it should have. Maya's expression barely changed. Train what? You know what I mean? Maya looked toward the stairwell.
Students moved past them. Not anymore. Denise noticed the wording. Not no. Not never.
Not anymore. What did you train? Maya's fingers touched the cuff of her sleeve. Underneath it. The frayed bracelet shifted against her wrist.
A few things. Denise waited. Maya offered nothing else. Finally, Denise said, "You caught that tray before I even saw it fall. Lucky."
No. Maya looked at her. Denise's voice stayed gentle. Luck is late. You weren't. For the first time, something defensive entered Maya's face.
I need to get to class. Denise nodded. Of course, Maya walked away. Denise watched her go. There was history in that movement.
She was certain now. What she didn't know was why Maya seemed determined to bury it. That night, instead of returning directly to Aldrich Hall, Maya stayed on the city bus past her usual stop. Downtown Columbus gave way slowly to South Lyndon. The buildings grew shorter, the sidewalks rougher.
Corner stores glowed beneath fluorescent signs. Rain earlier in the day had left dark patches on the pavement, reflecting traffic lights in broken streaks of red and green. Maya got off beside an old brick building between an auto repair shop and a shuttered storefront. A faded sign hung above one narrow door. Carter Community Fitness.
Two letters had burned out. The remaining bulbs flickered yellow against the evening. Maya stood across the street through the front windows. She could see Daniel Carter inside. 67 gray at his temples, heavy sweatshirt.
He was adjusting the chain on an old punching bag. The studio looked smaller than Maya remembered. Maybe because Daniel now lived in the two rooms behind it. Maybe because losing the house had made everything feel smaller. He stepped back from the bag.
For a moment, his body moved into a familiar stance, balanced, quiet, certain. Maya s chest tightened. She saw another room, another night. Bright lights over a competition floor, a woman across from her. A sudden movement, then silence.
Not Hawthorne silence, a different kind. Officials stepping forward, someone calling for medical staff. Maya's breath caught. She stepped backward from the curb. The bronze disc at her wrist pressed into her skin beneath her sleeve.
Her last victory. The number that had stopped feeling like victory a long time ago. Daniel looked toward the front window. Maya moved into the shadow beside the bus shelter before he could see her. The next bus came 3 minutes later.
She climbed aboard. From the window, she watched the studio disappear behind her. She had been able to stand still while Evan blocked a hallway. She had been able to move before a falling tray hit Sandra. She had been able to look Professor Walker in the eye and hide years of training behind two words.
Not anymore. But she still could not walk through her grandfather's door. And somewhere beneath that fear, her body remained ready, waiting. The next morning, Mia woke before her alarm. For several seconds, she lay still beneath the thin dorm blanket, listening to rain tap against the window of Aldrich Hall.