The answer made both women quiet. Near closing time, Denise sent them home with containers of soup. The rain had eased to a mist. Jefferson Heights smelled of wet brick, exhaust, and fried onions from a takeout place down the block. At the bus stop, Nia tucked her hands into her coat.
You know what bothers me most? Naomi waited. If Ryan hated us, fine. Naomi looked at her. Nia shrugged.
At least hate is honest. Naomi understood. This was different. This was somebody smiling while creating paperwork. Somebody turning prejudice into procedure.
The bus arrived with a hiss. They climbed aboard. The next morning at Riverton, Naomi carried the conduct packet inside her gym bag. She had already sent Professor Brooks copies of their class attendance and emailed herself photographs of the volunteer board. Not enough to solve anything, enough to begin.
After anatomy, Naomi took the service hallway toward the athletic center because it was quieter than the main concourse. Walter Hayes was near a storage al cove checking boxes against a clipboard. His left knee looked stiff. Naomi slowed. You doing better?
Walter glanced up. Depends who's asking. The person who told you to take it easy then no. Terrible. Absolutely tragic.
Naomi smiled. You're impossible. Been told. She started to pass. Her gym bag brushed against her hip.
The bronze heron struck the metal zipper pull with a small click. Walter's eyes dropped. This time he saw it clearly. His joking expression disappeared. Naomi took two more steps before realizing he had stopped speaking.
She turned. Walter was staring at the pin, not casually. Recognition had changed his whole face. Where did you get that? Naomi touched the bronze bird.
This? Walter nodded. My father's. For a second, he seemed to forget the clipboard in his hand. What was his name?
Naomi felt something tighten in her chest. Marcus. Walter's eyes lifted sharply to hers. Marcus what? Behind Naomi, footsteps echoed at the far end of the hall.
Students moved past without looking. Walter stepped closer. His voice dropped. Was your father's name Marcus Carter? Naomi did not answer immediately because Walter Hayes was no longer looking at her like a maintenance supervisor making conversation.
He was looking at her like a door from the past had just opened in front of him. Naomi's hand closed around the bronze pin. "Yes," she said. Marcus Carter was my father. Walter lowered the clipboard for several seconds.
The service hallway disappeared from his face. The cinder block walls, the fluorescent lights, the carts stacked with folded towels. All of it seemed to fall away. What about Nia Bennett? You two still train together?
Naomi nodded. Walter exhaled slowly. I knew it. Naomi's expression tightened. Knew what?
Walter looked down the hall before answering. Not here. That made Naomi wary. Walter noticed. Nothing bad.
He gave a small, almost embarrassed smile. I just don't want half the building listening. They stepped into an unused equipment room beside the hallway. Walter switched on one light. Metal shelving filled the space.
Old cones, resistance bands, basketballs, and boxed uniforms sat beneath a film of dust. Rain tapped faintly against a narrow basement window near the ceiling. Naomi stayed near the door. Walter leaned his clipboard against a shelf. I used to officiate at Riverton.
No. He looked at her. Karate. Naomi went still. Walter's smile faded into something warmer. National Circuit.
The words landed differently from everything else that week. Not threatening, but exposing. Naomi's fingers tightened on the strap of her gym bag. Walter continued. Adult divisions, regional qualifiers, nationals when they needed an old fool willing to stand on his feet all day.
Naomi stared at him. You were a referee for almost 15 years. A memory moved behind Walter's eyes. Bright mats, white uniforms, a packed arena. He pointed gently toward her bag.
That heron was on Marcus' coaching jacket. Naomi looked down at the pin. He wore it everywhere. I remember. Walter's voice softened.
I remember him, too. Naomi did not know what to say. Most people who mentioned Marcus spoke in fragments. Your father was kind. Your father helped me once.
Your father worked too hard. Walter spoke like someone who had known a part of him Naomi had nearly forgotten. He coached differently. Walter said. How?
He never screamed. That made Naomi smile. No, didn't pace the edge of the mat. Didn't argue every call. Walter chuckled.
Drove some of the other coaches crazy. That sounds like him. Walter nodded toward her. And you sound like him. Naomi's smile disappeared.
Walter seemed to realize the weight of that. I saw you compete. Naomi looked up sharply. You did? Both of you.
The equipment room suddenly felt much smaller. Walter pointed toward an empty patch of concrete floor. National championships, adult women's divisions, separate brackets. Naomi could almost hear it. The sharp clap of feet.
Judges calling points. The buzz of a crowd before a final. Walter's eyes moved across her face. You were 19 then? Naomi shook her head.
18. Walter nodded. Right. He smiled faintly. You were the quieter one.
Nia would love hearing that. She was fast. She still is. Walter laughed. Then his expression changed.
You both won. Naomi looked toward the floor. Yes. National champions. She said nothing.
Walter studied her. You haven't told anybody here. No. Why? Naomi looked at the scratched bronze heron. Because it doesn't change who we are.
Walter was quiet. Naomi continued. My father hated the way people acted after a tournament. Walter understood immediately. The attention, the way they treated us like the medals made us more important than we were the day before.
She ran her thumb along the edge of the pin. He used to say, "If you need everyone to know what you can do, then you probably haven't learned enough yet." Walter smiled. "That sounds exactly like Marcus." Naomi looked at him.
He also said karate was for protecting people. Walter nodded. Not humiliating them. Exactly. A shadow crossed Naomi's face.
Walter saw it. You're thinking about Ryan. Naomi said nothing. You could handle him. The statement was quiet.
Not a question. Naomi's eyes hardened. That isn't the point. Walter nodded immediately. No, it isn't.