“Come on, put some power into it!” Hooks shouted as I slammed a gloved fist into the pad she was holding before me. “You should be punching through this guy’s head!”

  “I’m trying,” I huffed, following up with my opposite hand. “I don’t have that kind of strength.”

  “Bullshit,” she retorted, lowering the pads and giving me a frown. “I told you to swing from the hips.”

  “What hips?” I demanded gesturing to my stick-like frame.

  “Too literal,” she said, shaking her head and dropping the pads. “C’mon over to the bag.”

  Grumbling, I pulled off my mitts and followed her out of the ring. Nice as it was to hit things as hard as I could, getting constantly berated for how I was doing it rubbed me wrong. Like everything else lately, I just couldn’t cut it and the world was eager to let me know. At least with Hooks’ boxing, fixing those problems was theoretically as easy as listening. Theoretically…

  “Watch carefully, cool?” Hooks said, grabbing a pair of gloves hanging by the bag. After putting them on, she took a perfect stance and her arm whipped out like lightning, crashing into the bag and knocking it back. “You see?”

  “I saw you swing and hit, yeah,” I said with a shrug.

  “Okay okay, I’ll try and go a bit slower.”

  She stanced up again and swung, not quite lightning, more like a racecar. Huh, she wasn’t just swinging her fists, she was swinging practically her whole body. Hooks drove a few more punches into the bag at the same speed, and I slowly began to see what she meant about ‘swinging with hips’. I stepped up when she stopped.

  “Can I try?” I asked. She took off the gloves and held them out. I closed them around my wrists and took my stance.

  “Wider,” Hooks snapped. “Your legs keep coming together, gotta keep them spaced. Feels weird but it’s the right way to do it.” I shuffled my feet further apart til I got a nod.

  Raising my fists, I felt out the change in stance. It was weird, a little tug on the inside of my thighs was distracting, but not quite painful. It felt like I could fall over any second, but as I jabbed at the bag experimentally I found it was actually pretty stable. I glanced over and got another nod from Hooks, then tried to ape what I’d seen her do. My glove hit the bag with a muffled ‘fwump’ and it barely swung back an inch.

  “Start lower,” Hooks offered, punching the air once quickly then slowing the motion down so I could figure out what she meant. “I know you don’t have much meat on your bones, but I’ve seen smaller girls hit twice as hard.” I jabbed at the slightly swinging bag, then drove my fist into it and knocked it back half a foot. “Hey, shit, there you go.”

  “It’s...weird,” I said, swinging again now at the empty air. “Like I’m swinging like, too much.”

  “It’ll get more natural,” she said easily, holding out a bottle of water. I shucked my gloves and grabbed it from her. “Wasn’t long ago I was busting my fists doing this, y’know?”

  “Guess I’m lucky,” I replied, turning around and facing the wall so I could sip my water without exposing my face. I turned back after wiping my mouth. “How do you break your fists with padded gloves on anyway?”

  “Just how hard I can hit,” Hooks said with a shrug, tapping the back of her hand. “Not a real break, just a fracture in the fingerbones. Phalanges, I think.”

  “Ouch,” I winced. “Glad I don’t have to worry, I think. My projection is pretty sturdy.”

  “That the forcefield thing?” she asked and I nodded. “Convenient.”

  “Yeah until I flinch,” I muttered.

  “Lot of boxers have that weakness,” Hooks said. “But you can train that. Maybe get that runt Bailey in to teach you how to in-fight.”

  “I’m…wouldn’t I be in a fight if I was boxing?” I cocked my head and she chuckled.

  “It’s a style,” she explained. “Lots of little guys use it, get in real close and just keep punching until you get a KO or get pulped. You got an advantage there, obviously.”

  “Oh, okay.” I looked her up and down. “I’m uh, guessing you don’t do that?”

  “Nope, I’m a little flexible, but usually I’m throwing big haymakers.” Hooks flexed and I realized her arm might weigh as much as me. “But that’s all just a side gig, keeps me fit for when I need to lug around a forty kilo tank of paragoop.”

  “Para— confoam?”

  “That too,” she said with a wink.

  “So...why are you here training me?” I asked. “I mean from what I’ve heard it’s only getting worse, don’t they need you?” She grimaced and I winced; okay, maybe a bad question.

  “Sick leave, sort of,” Hooks said quietly, her tone dull. “Last time I responded to a call, new cape called Hannibal folded me in half. Ruptured three discs in my back and a kidney. Might have been crippled if Panacea hadn’t been on call.”

  “Pandora,” I corrected.

  “Shit really?” Hooks gave me a look. “I thought whoever said that was just an idiot.”

  “I am,” I said with a shrug. “But that’s her name. She’s...masking up, so don’t go throwing her actual identity around?”

  “Don’t blame her,” she said, nodding and sighing. “Dangerous times to be a cape. I’ll spread the word, let the guys know to not throw her unmasked ID around anymore. We get to go home and hang up our hats at the end of the day, only right you do too.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Appreciated,” I replied, offering a smile under my mask. “Wish I could be out there taking the hits for you guys.”

  “Look kid, I get it; but trust me, they’re keeping you back for a good reason,” she said severely. “Even with how well you can take a hit, there’s some things you should leave to us.”

  “But—”

  “Enough chatter,” Hooks said, clapping her hands in my face and making me flinch. “Back in the ring, we got thirty more minutes to teach you how to throw a decent punch. If you aren’t punching through faces by the end of it, I’ll punch through yours.”

  “Good luck,” I said, grinning as I grabbed my gloves and clambered in.

  “You are impressively good at getting hurt for a girl with a near-invincible projection,” Amy or rather Pandora, said glibly, voice slightly muffled by her mask. “Want to tell me how this happened?”

  “Boxing,” I said, wincing at the sound my nose made as it straightened. It didn’t hurt but still, eugh. “I’m...trying to get an outlet, doctor’s orders. I just flinched is all, but I’m working on it and—”

  I sneezed into the medical mask I was wearing in place of my blood-soaked regular one and a disgusting gob of something flew out. I scrambled to pull the mask off my face and curled my lip at the sight of a ball of congealed blood and snot. I tossed it in the trash and grabbed a clean mask. Oh god, at least I could breath through my nose again.

  “Lovely,” Pandora said sarcastically.

  “Yeah that’s what does it for you?” I bantered, gently prodding her foot.

  “Oh you know it,” she drawled. “Please hock up more balls of medical waste anytime.”

  “Like a really, really sick cat’s hairballs.” I winced at the look. “Bad analogy.”

  “Weird analogy,” she countered.

  “Sorry.”

  “Oh please,” Pandora said, pressing her mask to my forehead briefly. “That’ s something I actually like, it’s funny.”

  “At least I’ve got something going for me.” I gave her a smile. “Anyway, all done?”

  “Oh, yeah, bone’s set, no TBI but be fucking careful,” she warned, levelling a finger at me. “You know I can’t do brains.” Of course not, she didn’t trust herself.

  “You got it,” I said with a nod. “Trust me, I’d rather not get my nose broken again, or have another concussion.”

  “Good, you’re cuter when you’re functional.”

  “You seem in a good mood,” I ventured. “What’s up?”

  “Talk tonight?”

  I gave her a nod, then headed back out into the infirmary from the private room Pandora used for treatment. Hooks had gone off to whatever she did when she wasn’t training me, and I was off for the rest of the day. Theoretically to do homework, and I planned to, but free time was tempting.

  Then again I didn’t have a lot to do. Thinking about it in the elevator, I wasn’t really watching any TV. Sure me and Amy watched an episode of that fucked up anime, but since then it had just been random crap we’d settled on, or movies. I guess I could browse the net, but there wasn’t much I wanted to do there either; definitely not with a cringeworthy PR campaign going on in my name right now.

  I sighed and headed into my room, taking off my mask and tracksuit jacket. I changed out of my now-sweaty tshirt and bra, and into a clean shirt. It took a minute to get set up, but I managed to while away a whole twenty minutes on six math problems before giving up. I got a little further on my English and History homework, then spent a while continuing the sketch I’d been working on.

  By the time Amy sent me a text, it was starting to take shape. Good likeness too, but still had a long way to go. God drawing by memory was hard, but pretty fun, and I’d had plenty of reference for this one. Almost as an afterthought, I packed my sketchbook for the night. Who knew, maybe I’d get the itch to work on it more, or if Amy decided she wanted to do some extra healing I could do it then.

  I headed up and joined her at the bus stop. We chatted about our days, not a lot going on either way; training for me, and getting a broken nose, and work for her, and healing me. On the ride home and the walk up to her apartment, Amy seemed to get more and more nervous, and kept giving me worried glances. Probably the ‘talk tonight’ thing she mentioned.

  Oh god was she breaking up with me? No, there was no way she’d be in a good mood from that right? Unless somehow she’d found someone else better than me. My stomach churned. It wasn’t hard to imagine. She was still going to school, hanging out with other people. I wasn’t much of anything, she could probably find someone better just bumping to them in the ha—

  “You coming in?” Amy’s question snapped me out of it.

  “Please don’t break up with me,” I said in a stupid, idiot, desperate rush.

  “What?” she asked, voice brittle. “Lia, wha— why would I do that?”

  “Because I’m a bad girlfriend and always miserable and bringing my problems to you,” I replied. Obviously.

  “Inside,” she said, pointing. I walked past her, staring at the ground. I started as the door shut and she grabbed me from behind, hugging me tight. “I’m not breaking up with you, dumbass.”

  “Oh thank god,” I said, trying to slow my breathing. It was fine, everything was okay. I leaned back against her. “Sorry, sorry, let me just—”

  “Relax, it’s...not bad, c’mon.” Amy squeezed me a little tighter. She took my hand and led me into the living room, and we sat together on the couch. “Why did you think I was breaking up with you?” she asked after a moment.

  “I...you said you wanted to talk and...and I don’t know what else because I’ve been so shitty lately.” I held her arm tightly, taking a shaky breath. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she said after a moment. “Um, sorry, that threw me off. Shit, okay, um, give me a sec.” God I was such a fuckup. “So, you remember when Ma— my dad came by for dinner?”

  “Um, yeah,” I replied shakily. It had gone pretty well, if I remembered right; made a good first impression I thought. “What about it?”

  “Well, um…” Amy swallowed, chewing her lip ragged. “They talked and...they invited me to dinner tomorrow night.”

  “Oh.” I blinked. “Wait isn’t that good?”

  “It’s...it’s not bad,” she said. “I’m not sure I should go.” I frowned.

  “Why not?” I said. “You were scared they were going to hate you and apparently they don’t so… I don’t know Amy.”

  “Neither do I,” she whispered. “If Vicky’s there I…” She trailed off and I nuzzled against her neck.

  “You’ll be okay,” I said quietly. I wasn’t sure I was telling the truth but...I knew what she needed. “And if you're not...just leave?” She sniffled.

  “...with me?”

  “What?”

  “Come with me?” Amy repeated, a little louder. “I can’t— can’t face her alone. I’m not strong enough.”

  Did I want to get involved in Amy’s family stuff more than I already was? I wanted to be her girlfriend so...I guess that was that.

  “Okay,” I said, running my fingers through her hair. “I’ve got your back Amy; I mean, it’s just dinner right? But I’ll be with you.”

  “I um, thanks.” She took a deep breath, then let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, uh, maybe I should ask if it’s okay first.”

  “Yeah probably,” I said with a nod.

  Amy pulled away from me and took out her phone. She flipped it open and dialed a number quickly, glancing to me. I smiled and offered a thumbs up, because what else could I do; she was on the phone. She offered a timid grin that was closer to a grimace, then flinched at a faint click from the other end of the line.

  “Hello? Dad?” Amy swallowed hard. “Hi, yeah it’s Amy. So about dinner tomorrow I— No, I’m thinking of coming but...could I bring a guest?” The long pause made me wince. “Yes, Lia. Is that o— Really? I mean okay, cool, uh we’ll be there then I guess. What um, what time was it again? Okay yeah, I’ll see you at six then. Yeah...you too Dad.” She shut the phone and sighed, offering me a weak smile. “So, dinner tomorrow.” I leaned over and gave her a lingering kiss.

  “It’s a date,” I replied with a grin.