Livia Lone

28-THEN

That first day, Malcolm taught Livia the fundamental jiu-jitsu positions: mount, where you straddle your opponent’s chest; guard, where you fight from your back and entangle your opponent with your legs; and hooks-in, where you get your legs around your opponent from behind. Everything about it clicked for her. Jiu-jitsu was like a language her body had always known how to speak-she had only needed to hear it.

She was terrified Mr. Lone wouldn’t allow her to train. So when he came to her room the next night and asked what it was about “this jiu-jitsu thing,” she was ready. She closed the textbook she was studying and sat up on her bed. Then, with planned nonchalance, she said, “The new kid, Sean, likes it. And I don’t have any other friends.”

She’d been at the school for over a semester now, and given Mr. Lone’s concern with appearances, she knew he’d be worried people might find it strange that his adopted daughter had no friends-even if he himself would prefer it that way.

“Yes, his father told me. But it’s about fighting, yes?”

This was the part that really worried her-that Mr. Lone would object to her training with Sean and Malcolm because he wouldn’t want her to learn how to fight. But seeing the way he was looking at her now, she realized that despite his question, he didn’t take the notion seriously. He towered over her. He would never be able to imagine the nervous little girl before him might find a way to protect herself.

Let alone hurt someone else in the process.

“I guess,” she said. “But mostly I just want to have a friend.”

There was a long pause. Livia tried not to let her anxiety show on her face. She didn’t know what she would do if he said no. She couldn’t imagine it.

Finally, he said, “All right. Sean’s father was quite persuasive about the health benefits. And he wants his son to have a friend as much as I want you to.”

Livia was so awash in joy and relief that his lie about wanting her to have a friend didn’t even bother her. He didn’t want her to have a friend. He just thought that on balance he would have to accept it. And it was interesting that Malcolm seemed to have talked more about the health aspects than about the fighting. Had he sensed Mr. Lone might not like the latter?

“I’m trusting Malcolm,” Mr. Lone said. “Do you see how important trust is?”

Livia nodded. “Yes.”

He glanced down the hallway, then back at her. “But there are different kinds of trust. I trust Malcolm as my employee. You might trust him as a teacher. But our trust is different. The way we know each other is different. Do I need to remind you that what we share with each other, we don’t share with anyone else? Because no one would believe you if you tried to tell them about us. It’s too special, no one else would even understand it. Not to mention it would be dangerous for Nason.”

Livia no longer knew what to think about Nason. Maybe Mr. Lone knew where she was. Maybe he was lying. Either way, he wasn’t going to tell her. So she tried not to think about it, pinning her hopes instead on Rick.

“I know,” she said. “I don’t tell anyone.”

“You won’t tell anyone.”

She hated the way her English deteriorated when she talked to him. But she shook it off and said, “I won’t tell.”

He nodded. “Then you can do the jiu-jitsu. Right after school, and home no later than five thirty.”

She suppressed the triumph she felt. “Yes, no later than five thirty. And Saturday and Sunday mornings, too.” Anticipating his objection, she said, “And if my grades go down, I cut back. I will cut back”

“If your grades go down, you’ll stop. I want to see straight A’s, just like last semester.”

“All right.”

He looked at her suspiciously, as though he sensed a missing part, something she was hiding.

Mrs. Lone called from downstairs, “I’m heading to bridge club. Back in a few hours.”

The front door closed. A flush crept into Mr. Lone’s face. He glanced at the bathroom, then back to Livia.

She clenched her jaw and stood, then walked to the bathroom, his footsteps close behind her.

While it went on, she tried as always to think of something else, to project herself somewhere else. This time, she focused on how one day, she might use jiu-jitsu the way Sean had.

Of course, Sean had warned Eric. Had given him a chance. She would never do that. She would break the arm right away.

To start with.