Simon led them through some warm-up exercises, and Patrick found his mind wandering as he studied Darren. The guy was definitely in the same league as Patrick in terms of fitness—or lack thereof—but he didn’t take his eyes off Simon, paying attention to every instruction. Whatever was driving him to get fit and build the confidence that he could protect himself was obviously motivational. Was it a particular person Darren was afraid of? Was he in a situation like Patrick?
Patrick’s stomach clenched at the thought of his own situation, but he realized it was more out of frustration than anything else. He hated the feeling of being helpless, of just waiting around for the next thing to happen, of being at the mercy of whoever was trying to scare him. At least training gave him something to focus on so he felt like he wasdoingsomething. He now understood why Darren felt the same way—the need to take control of his own life.
“Patrick!”
His head snapped up at the clipped exclamation. “Sorry. I was away with the pixies. What were you saying?”
“I said we’re going to do some drills now.” Simon rolled his eyes, earning a chuckle from Darren, who was looking at Patrick. Patrick scowled at Darren and he winked back.At least the ice seems to be breaking there.It was nice to see Darren with a smile on his face for once. Simon rolled his eyes again as he shook his head. “It’s like teaching kindergartners.”
“Sorry,” Darren said, but his grin stayed. Yep, definite progress.
“When we’re at the gym we can utilize the equipment there, train on the speed bags, that type of thing. While we’re out here we’re limited somewhat. It doesn’t stop us from doing some of the basics though.” He walked back to the picnic table where they’d left their stuff and returned with some ropes. Simon passed a skipping rope to each of them. “Jumping rope is great for building fitness and endurance, and helps you stay light on your feet.”
“Now I do feel like a kindergartner,” Darren said as he grasped the handles. In no time at all he was jumping over the swinging rope, his motion slow but confident, each jump precise and gradually building in speed.
Simon immediately did the same, but instead of jumping with two feet, he stepped over the rope each time it came around. The sound of the rope hitting the ground was in a nice regular rhythm. After a few moments, he began spinning it double time every couple of circuits.
“Show off,” Patrick couldn’t help teasing, pleased to see Simon’s grin.
He took the handles of his own rope and started skipping. Well, skipping probably wasn’t the right word. The rope somehow wound its way around his ankles and he stumbled to a halt. Heat suffused his already flushed cheeks. He started again with the same result, and didn’t dare glance at either Simon or Darren, knowing both of them would be grinning at him. He tried one last time before giving in. He looked at Simon and, as expected, Simon was holding back laughter as he expertly spun his rope.
“Yeah, yeah. You know I’m crap at this sort of thing.”
Simon stopped jumping and walked close. “I think it’s just a matter of practice. You’re great at dancing, so I know you’ve got a sense of rhythm; it’s just a matter of putting it to work in a slightly different way. Maybe we’ll try with music next time.”
After ten minutes of a very patient Simon trying to show Patrick how to coordinate his arms and legs to successfully jump rope, Patrick had managed to master some of the basics but with very little grace. They moved on to the next activity. Patrick sighed with relief as he coiled the rope and shoved it back in the gym bag.
“We were talking about the importance of staying light on your feet. You need to be stable, but must be able to move quickly on both the offensive and defensive. You need to be able to strike, but also to defend yourself from your opponent.” Simon provided instruction in basic footwork principles. “Feet shoulder width apart, left foot slightly forward, weight distributed evenly but stay on the balls of your feet. That’s right, Darren, you’ve got it, just bend your knees a little more. You too, Patrick. Now bring your arms up, fists at cheekbone level, elbows tucked in, chin down but eyes up.” Simon looked at them both. “How does that feel?”
To be honest, Patrick felt a little stupid standing in the middle of the park balancing on the spot while holding his fists up. He met Darren’s gaze, and started humming the theme from Rocky, earning him an amused look. Simon walked passed and thumped him on the arm. “Idiot,” Simon said, but he was grinning too. “C’mon. Let’s put some of this new knowledge to good use.”
Simon spent a little time talking about defensive techniques—bobbing and weaving, and how to slip past a punch—then they got into position for some light sparring. Darren faced off with Patrick. Darren looked so serious, his body tense as he stood in the stance Simon had demonstrated, that Patrick couldn’t resist waggling his eyebrows. He got the reaction he hoped for as Darren relaxed slightly. Patrick had been so focused on Darren, he hadn’t noticed Simon getting stuff from his bag, but he sure noticed now when Simon snapped a brightly colored clothes peg to the shoulder of Patrick’s T-shirt.
“Hey, what’s that for?”
Simon placed a peg on his other shoulder. “I’ll do the same to Darren. The aim of the game is for you to square off against each other and try to pluck the peg from the other’s clothing. You’ll need to move fast on your feet, and be quick when on the offensive, but also be able to keep your opponent from snatching your own pegs.” Simon grinned before moving to clip two pegs on the hem of Patrick’s shirt so they rested over each hip.
“Cool. Sounds fun.”
Patrick was bouncing and feigning punches while he waited for Darren to be pegged up. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, the sound of kids playing carried across the park, and he was actually enjoying himself.Who would have thought training could be fun?
Simon moved out of the way, and Darren stepped into position in front of him. Patrick began bouncing on the balls of his feet. He could do this. After all, how hard could it be to grab the pegs from Darren’s shoulder? He lunged forward, taking advantage of the fact that Darren didn’t even look ready. An obviously startled Darren reeled back, and Patrick came away victorious. He waved the bright yellow peg in the air. “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee,” he sang, and feigned a few punches. Darren didn’t crack a smile, and Patrick’s own humor deserted him.
“Okay. Let’s try again,” Simon said.
This time Darren was better prepared, and he backed away as Patrick stepped forward. When Patrick’s hand shot out to grab the peg, Darren curled in on himself, making the snatch easy so this time there was no sense of victory. He glanced to Simon, who opened his mouth as if to say something, then thought better of it. Instead Simon indicated for the two of them to get back into position.
“Two pegs to Patrick,” Simon announced. “Darren, keep your eyes up and let’s go again.” From the false cheeriness in his voice, Patrick got a sense he understood Darren wasn’t 100 percent comfortable with the sparring, even if it was a game.
Patrick moved into position and managed to take the next peg as easily as the first two, but the joy of the game had definitely worn off. The lack of competition from Darren meant there was no challenge, plus seeing Darren’s stiff posture and furrowed brow had him hoping they’d be finished soon. As much as Patrick was no longer having a good time, Darren looked like he wanted to be anywhere else other than facing off with him. He looked to Simon, hoping he’d call an end to the game.
“I think maybe we’ve had enough for today.” Simon’s words brought relief, but it was short-lived.
“No. I want to finish. There’s only one peg left.” Darren raised his fists like he’d been shown.
“You don’t have to keep going, Darren. I’m okay to wrap things up,” Patrick said.
“I want to keep going.”
