The Last of the Pure

Eight

I spent nearly every day after school that week training with Samuel. Each day going about the same as the first, he’d pick me up after school, we’d drive to the clearing and after training for a few hours, he’d take me home. I was getting used to the rhythm, getting used to spending time with him, and actually kind of getting the hang of fighting and defending a little bit.

As far as visions, I didn’t have any more all week. We tried a few focus techniques, but nothing seemed to work.

Friday afternoon, when Samuel pulled into my driveway, he wasn’t wearing the shorts and t-shirt he usually wore for training.

“Go back in and change,” he said as I opened the door to his Jeep.

“What should I wear?” I asked. I’m pretty sure I looked at him like he was on crack.

“Pants, a shirt, I don’t know. We’re going to go eat and go back to my place for a bit. I’ve got some stuff to show you.”

“Eat?” I took in his appearance. I’d never seen him in anything like what he was wearing. Even the night when I first met him he was in jeans and a plain t-shirt. Today though, he was wearing dark jeans and a long sleeved navy flannel kind of shirt. He looked good. A little warm maybe, considering it was still so hot outside, but he didn’t look bothered.

“Yes, eat. I’m starving.”

“I’ll be right back,” I mumbled.

I walked back into my house, up to my room, and began to panic. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to look like for this. Jeans and a t-shirt didn’t seem right, but a dress or a nice top and I would feel stupidly overdressed. I wondered if he could he hear me overthinking everything from this far, so I mentally shut myself up and walked into my closet.

I pulled the jean shorts I’d worn to school back on and swapped my KCHS Science Club t-shirt for my favorite grey plaid button down, rolling the sleeves to my elbows and trying to smooth out the collar before looking at myself in the mirror. My messy bun was definitely not something I wanted to wear in public, so I pulled out the hair tie and braided the hair to the left side, smoothing my bangs to the right and calling it good.

I grabbed my purse off of my bed, draping it across my body and rushed back out to the car.

“Better?” I asked, opening the door and sliding into the passenger seat.

“You look nice,” he smiled.

“I’m not really hungry,” I told him truthfully. “I had a nice nutritious school lunch not three hours ago,” I patted my stomach for dramatic effect.

“Good thing we’ve got a bit of a drive,” he said, showing all of his teeth in a mocking grin.

“How much is a bit?”

“Will you relax?” he looked at me, trying to look annoyed I think, but I just laughed at him. “I try to do something nice, a little treat for all of your hard work,” he pinched my cheek a bit and I slapped his hand away, “but all you can do is worry about where I’m taking you and what you’re going to wear!”

I could see him trying to hold back a laugh, but I wanted to punch him.

“You can’t punch the man who taught you to punch,” he informed me matter-of-factly.

“Good thing my dad is still at school,” I said, going to punch him in the arm. He grabbed hold of my fist, laughing.

“I mean punch correctly, without your thumbs beneath your fingers.”

I tried to pull my hand from his grasp, but he wasn’t budging, so I bit him on the knuckles.

He jumped back, ripping his hand away from mine and shaking it in the air.