“I’ve been reading books,” Jules told the man. “Trying to learn, you know, things like center your balance, hands up to protect your head,” he demonstrated, but then shrugged. “Hard to know if I’m doing it right.”
“You seemed ready for anything on Friday, with Rodney Burke.”
“You saw all of that?”
“Yeah. I thought you handled him well,” Harrison said. “De-escalation is always preferred. But that crowd was going to make it impossible for him to walk away.”
“Yeah,” Jules said. “I was aware of that.”
“I woulda stepped in if I had to,” Harrison reassured him. “But enter Belle, stage left. Hah.Gotta dance. I swear, that kid.”
“She’s pretty special,” Jules agreed.
“The special kids always find each other,” Harrison said. “Thank God.”
More silence then, more ticking clock and more of that unwavering watching until Jules finally realized that this time, the ball actually was in his court.
Mr. Harrison had asked him a question that he hadn’t answered yet.
So Jules cleared his throat and answered. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Thank you. I’d love to learn to fight.”
“Great. Let’s start Wednesday.”
Jules was startled. “Wednesday as in... day after tomorrow?” he clarified.
“Is there another Wednesday this week?”
“No, I... no, sir.”
“Fifteen-hundred hours—three o’clock—in the gym.” Harrison pushed a green piece of paper toward him, across his desk. “If you’re not eighteen, you’ll need your mother’s permission.”
“I’m not,” Jules said. “Yet.” He looked at the paper—it was a standard school permission slip but... “The Fighters Unlimited Club?” Really? On the page, the F and the U were extra large, making it look as if he’d be joining the FU Club. His mother was going to hate that.
As he’d done before, Harrison seemingly knew exactly what Jules was thinking. “Tell your mother it’s me. She’ll sign. She knows me pretty well.”
“Really.” Ohreally...?
“Hah. Yeah. She was a junior when I was a senior and... Well, I’ve been married to one of her close friends for, wow,twelve years now. Met your dad a few times. He was a good man.”
“He was.”
“I’m sorry for your loss—ourloss. The world’s loss.” Harrison actually meant it. So many people said the words like an incantation or spell that they hoped would shield them from the messiness of Jules’s grief. But Harrison’s raspy voice was filled with genuine, honest empathy.
“Thank you, sir,” Jules whispered.
Harrison gave him a minute to blink back the tears that still sometimes inopportunely rushed to his eyes, allowing him to regain his equilibrium. But then the man gently nudged the conversation forward. “You have any questions about the club?”
“Actually, yes, I do.” Jules glanced back down at the permission slip, which included an overview of the so-called FU club and a short bio for Mr. Harrison, whose first name was Hank, which fit him like a glove. “Is this co-ed, or...?”
“Boys only,” Harrison said. “I’ve been trying to set up one for the girls, God knows they need it, but I really want to find a female co-instructor for that. So far, no takers. But I'm still looking.”
“Who’s...” Jules started, but then started over, clearing his throat. “How many boys are in this club?”
“Hah. Does that matter?”
“It does.” Jules just went point-blank. “I’m gay and I’m not comfortable walking into a situation that could be hazardous to my health. If you’ve already got the entire soccer team signed up and, I don’t know, a dozen other guys to make it that nice, round twenty-five that you need for the GSA, and they’ve all been doing this for oh, a year or two... Imightwant to pass.”
“Hah. Hah hah. I like you, kid. You’re fearless.”
