Shoving my gear into my duffel, my lips tip up at the rare compliment. Quietly, he approaches and slides a purple belt into my line of sight.
I turn to him, wide-eyed and gape-mouthed. “Wait.Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack.” He grins, and I don’t ever think I’ve seen him do that before. “You’ve more than proven yourself. Whatever’s been motivating you, keep it up. Your takedowns are brutal, and your strategy is incredibly advanced. It’s getting harder and harder to keep you on your toes.”
I take the purple belt from him and just…stare at it.
I’ve been to places where a mid-level belt wasn’t anything to write home about, but I’ve never worked so hard for something before.
Some places do these big ceremonies, and you know you’re getting it beforehand, but that’s never been Professor Davi’s way. And now I kind of get it.
A sense of accomplishment I’ve never felt before flares in my chest.
“I may hug you,” I finally say, looking up with tears in my eyes.
“I may let you,” he responds, opening his arms.
I give him a brief, hard hug, then step back and give him a more traditional bow.
He returns the gesture.
“I…” I shake my head. “Thank you. It feels like you’re the only one who believes in me right now.”
“I’m not the only one, I assure you,” he says, then steps away to greet his incoming students.
I’ve never worked so hard before and almost quit so many times.
It took me a long time to understand that Professor Davi isn’t hard on me just to be a dick. He genuinely wants me to master these skills.
There are plenty of rich students with black belts in—name your martial art here—who couldn’t take down your average grandma with a heavy purse, let alone anyone with actual street skills. Even with all the defensive skills my dads taught us, it’s taken meyearsto get to this moment.
Mostly, I’m touched that Professor Davi has faith in me. That’s a little light on the ground these days, and it means more than he could possibly realize. Something about this accomplishment, though, also makes me feel lonely.
Fuck it.
I grab the belt and take a quick selfie, sending it to Ru. His response is immediate.
Ru: Holy. Shit.
Ru: Dude.
Ru: You hafta tell the rest of the family. This is really special, and you should be celebrated.
Me: You might be right.
It would be nice if more than one person in my inner circle were proud of me.
I carefully slide the belt into my duffel, then send Professor Davi a salute as I walk out the door, which he returns by bringing his hand to his chest.
Walking outside into the falling evening, the wind whips around, loosening several coils from my haphazard bun. As I retie my hair, my stomach growls. The shock of the purple belt distracted me from my plummeting blood sugar, but now I’m digging frantically in my bag for—ah, success. A protein bar to dull the hunger until I can go to town on Raul’s tacos.
Leaving my car while I forage for sustenance, I take the sidewalk down Lamar and turn at the first side street, dragging my overworked body uphill against the fucking gale force wind, fumbling with the bar and the zipper on my duffel, trying not to lose either in somewe’re not in Kansas anymorescenario.
I zip the bag, triumphant, just as my text notification goes off.
Checking my watch, I finally just use my teeth to rip open the wrapper.
Liam: Your uncle’s been in Austin for three days, and there hasn’t been one food delivery charge. I sent him dinner and scheduled a lunch delivery, but can you take him some food tomorrow? Maybe stick around long enough to make sure he actually eats it?
