Whitethorn Academy

Chapter Thirty-One

Once lunch was over, the walk to the gym felt too short. With every step that we took, the harder and faster my heart beat in my chest.

By the time we were entering the building, I felt as if I were about to throw up what little food I'd managed to force down at lunch.

Naomi kept giving me reassurances that everything would be okay, but that didn't make me feel any less queasy.

In the locker room, there were simple black training outfits waiting for us in our lockers instead of the regular uniforms. I swallowed hard as I changed quickly, stuffing my school uniform and my backpack into my locker before clicking the lock into place.

The training uniform was thick, with a rough fabric that hugged my skin. Despite the long sleeves and pants, I felt more exposed in this outfit than I had the first time I'd worn a bikini to the beach. I kept tugging it away from my skin, as if I could make it looser on my skin. But it always snapped right back into place.

Naomi's hair looked brighter than ever against the black of her uniform as she led me out of the locker room. Several people milled around, talking to each other as they waited for the rest of the class to assemble.

Mari already waited with Alek, her long blonde hair pulled into an immaculate ponytail. Jason was roughhousing with a few of his friends, laughing the entire time.

After a few minutes, Coach Knight stepped out of her office, her face all business. Her slate gray eyes were stern as she took in all of us. Jason and his friends immediately stopped what they were doing to stand at attention.

"Today marks a new beginning in this class. The real training begins now." Coach Knight stared at each of us individually before continuing. "Some of you have been training for years, but others have not. In order for me to properly train you, I'll need to see each of you in action. You'll be randomly paired with a sparring partner. You will then demonstrate your skills to me in an exhibition fight."

Nausea rushed to the surface, and I thought that I might lose my lunch. I shot a quick glance at Naomi, who was looking at the floor.

Coach Knight held a small basket in her hands, and she shook it lightly as she moved in front of a student. "These are numbered slips of paper. The person who gets the same number as you is your partner. There will be no whining or crying about your partner."

No one said anything, though the way several people shifted their weight made it clear that they didn't particularly like that rule. Naomi gave me a comforting smile as Coach Knight moved along the class, holding out the basket to everyone.

Naomi grabbed her slip of paper before I grabbed mine. I held it awkwardly in my hand as Coach Knight moved on to the next person. I unfolded it, reading the number seven written in a clean hand. Naomi's had the number one on it and she gave me a small, tense smile.

When Coach Knight was finished, she stood in front of us. "Alright, those with the number one, please step forward."

Naomi slipped the piece of paper in her pocket and stepped forward, her shoulders tense. One of our classmates, a girl with rich black hair whose name I didn't know, joined her. The girl with the black hair was small, but I had a feeling that there was more to her.

"Clean fighting, no magic," Coach Knight warned. "Begin."

The girl fell instantly into a fighting stance, her feet shoulder-width apart and her hands held defensively in front of her face. Naomi's stance was much shakier, and she was slower to fall into it. Naomi seemed unsure of herself as her opponent came at her, swinging one of her fists.

She blocked it, but barely. The force of the hit sent Naomi off-balance, which her opponent took advantage of immediately with a quick, clean sweep of her leg. Naomi tumbled, catching herself just before her face slammed into the padded floor.