Bab 23: Ch-22
I took a deep breath, clutching the strap of my backpack so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Yet, I knew I couldn't let what happened back in school again.
I pushed the door open and was immediately hit by a wave of humid air mixed with the scent of sweat and determination. The gym buzzed with activity—people of all ages working on various equipment, punching bags swinging back and forth, jump ropes slapping against the ground, and trainers shouting instructions.
"Hey there, champ. You new?" a voice called out.
I turned to see a tall, muscular man with short-cropped hair and a friendly smile walking towards me. He wore a black tank top and shorts, his muscular arms were covered in tattoos of different kinds, the most prominent being a horse. I was tempted to make a joke about him compensating for something else with that tattoo, but I reigned in my instincts. These instincts to mouth off were the ones which got me in the situation in the first place.
"Uh, yeah," I cleared my throat and regained some of my confidence back. "I'm Troy."
"Nice to meet you, Troy. I'm Marcus, the coach. What brings you here today?" His voice was warm and reassuring, making me feel slightly more at ease.
"I… I want to learn how to defend myself," I admitted with feigned bravado.
Marcus' eyes never left my face which was not at its best at the moment.
"Okay," He conceded with a serious expression after a few moments of evaluating me. "But if I got to know that you used what we teach here to hit someone else unprovoked, I'll make you regret it."
I agreed vehemently, "I promise I won't."
Marcus nodded, his expression turning jovial once more as if a switch had been flipped. "Well, you've come to the right place then. We teach both Muay Thai and Krav Maga here. They're excellent for self-defense and building confidence. Follow me, and I'll introduce you to the basics."
I followed Marcus through the gym, weaving between other students and trainers. We stopped at a corner where a group of kids around my age were practicing under the watchful eye of a very shapely female instructor.
"This is our beginners' class. They're just starting out like you," Marcus said, gesturing towards the group. "Hey, Maya!" he called to the instructor. "This is Troy. He's joining us today."
Maya, a brunette with a kind smile and sharp eyes, waved us over. "Hi, Troy. Welcome! We're just about to start with some warm-ups. Why don't you join us?" Her voice had a weird accent that I couldn't place exactly.
I nodded and quickly set my backpack down, slipping into the line of kids. We began with simple stretches, Maya demonstrating each one patiently. The movements felt strange at first, but I mimicked them as best as I could, feeling my muscles slowly loosen.
"Since we have a few new faces joining in this session," Maya began after the warnups were done, "I think I should tell you that Krav Maga is the most dangerous fighting style anyone can learn. It was developed by Israeli Defence Force some 50 years ago, and it teaches one thing above everything else: How to survive in a fight. It doesn't matter what dirty trick you use. As long as you come out on top, you win. But there are downsides to it as well, which basically revolves around practicing it. Here, in a classroom environment, we can't teach you lethal moves. Muay Thai, on the other hand, is a martial art purely for fighting. It teaches you to take hits, and deliver them with much more intensity. The downsides are that a real life opponent won't wait for you to land a hit, they will fight dirty."
That was a big conundrum.
"That's why, here at this gym we combined the two classes together so that we you can tank hits like a pro Muay Thai fighter and deliver cheap hits like an expert Israeli soldier."
My eyes widened in realization. So that's why they focus on two techniques rather than just one.
"Alright, kids, let's begin with Muay Thai first," Saying that, Maya led us through some basic techniques.
She showed us how to stand, how to throw punches and kicks, and how to move our bodies in coordination. My punches were awkward at first, my kicks unbalanced, but I kept trying, determined to get it right. Maya's encouragement and corrections helped me improve with each attempt.
After 45 or so minutes, we had a five minute break, before we moved on to Krav Maga. She taught us how to break free from holds and how to use our surroundings to our advantage. I found this part particularly interesting. I could see how these techniques could help if I was ever facing more than one enemy again.
By the end of the session, I was exhausted but exhilarated. My muscles ached, and I was drenched in sweat, but I felt good about the whole thing. I didn't want these lessons to stop at all.
(Break)
"Do you think we should change Troy's school?" Kathy asked her husband worriedly that evening after tucking her tired and bruised boy in his bed for the night. "Teaching him to fight is not the solution to him getting bullied."
"I don't think changing school would be necessary," Steve answered, "He will begin shooting right after the Christmas break. If you are agreeable, and everything goes according to the plan, we can move back to London in March, as soon as Troy is done here."
Kathy looked conflicted, "Are you sure that's wise? He wants to work in more movies. I have never seen him happier than when he was shooting for [Sex-Ed]. Moving back to London may disrupt that."
"I'm making [Harry Potter] for him," Steve turned around and gave his wife a look. "Don't you remember the time you scolded me for buying the rights to a whole book series on the word of a kid?"
"How many times would you make me regret that?" Kathy rolled her eyes. She was very vocal about what she thought of buying the Harry Potter rights. That was until the book sales exploded in both the US and the UK. The subsequent sequel was also met with overwhelming response. So much so, that other producers had even offered them a million dollars, just to buy the rights of the first book. An offer that Steve had refused.
"As I was saying," Steve continued, "I will strongly lobby for Troy to star as Harry. But I cannot be sure as the studio will think twice before casting anyone in a production costing in hundreds of millions. Then there's also the matter that the whole cast must be British. Once approved, the pre-production and casting alone will take most of the 1999. If we move in March, we can begin the work early."
"Do you think he will agree to move in March?" Kathy asked concerned, "What about Evan?"
"They had a bit of a falling out," Steve said hesitantly, "He is all alone in that school, Kathy. That is why I took him to the self-defense class today. I know he won't become Bruce Lee in his limited time here. Despite what you think, I know he is not as comfortable in LA as in London. We can go back there and things could go back to how they were earlier. If he wants to take up a movie, he can take something up in London. Sure, their budget and production are much different from Hollywood but it is the work that he wants, not money."
"You know I always prefer London over LA," Kathy said after a few moment's silence, "But what about Troy's education? Do you want him to be homeschooled? Or go to some fancy private school for this same scenario to repeat? What about college, huh?"
"Let's not talk about things that are so far away in the future," Steve halted Kathy's line of questioning, "I want him to have the best education, but he is much more interested in acting and has the talent for it. If the Harry Potter films become a hit, he could be a household name and getting roles would hardly be concerning for him. As far as his schooling goes, he is bored in school. I think private tutoring would be better for him."
Kathy took in a deep breath and let it out. She wanted her son to be a kid for a few more years, but it seemed as if he didn't want to.
"Okay, I'll agree to it. Moving to London early, that is." She relented, "But you will talk to him about it."
(Break)
I rejoined school the Monday following 'the incident'. I was dreading walking into the classroom because I knew that everyone would be judging me, but I had no choice. The coloring on my face had gone down significantly, and I looked mostly normal now. I was still a little sore, but it was because of all the training I had been doing at my new fighting gym for the last four days. It was good that they were closed on Mondays because I desperately needed the rest.
Still, I loved every part of it. The only downside to it all was that I'd be able to do it only for a month before leaving for Philadelphia, and eventually for London.
Steve had put all the options in front of me and frankly, the thought of going back to London right after [The Sixth Sense] was sounding more and more appealing. Earlier, I thought Evan would be back to normal within a few days, but now I was not so sure I wanted him to.
As I walked into the class, every kid decided that staring at me covertly was good for their entertainment. This time, kids weren't even trying to cozy up to me after I got the three bullies expelled. I didn't mind the solace, as much as being gawked at.
It was during recess that my former best friend gathered the balls to converse with me, "Hey Troy, can we talk?"
Just last week, I would have gladly taken the olive branch from him, but not anymore. "What's there to talk? I'm going away, remember? Then you can spread as many rumors about me as you want." I snapped at him. It came out much more vicious than I was aiming for.
"I-I di-didn't spread rumors about you." He stammered.
"Yeah? I didn't tell anyone about my next film. How do they know? How did Jeff know about it? Huh? Tell me." I demanded as I was almost in his face, apoplectic with rage.
He shrank back into the chair behind him and unconsciously fell over on the seat. His eyes instantly teared up and within seconds he started sobbing. Even though it was recess, the students around were enjoying the free drama. But I didn't care about them one bit.
"Oh stop with the rainfall and grow the fuck up. Will you cry every time you have a problem?" I shouted.
He hastily rubbed his eyes with the back of his sleeves, but it didn't help him much.
"I didn't say anything at first," I continued, ignoring his tears, "I thought, it's okay, Evan will be back to normal in a few days, but no, you had to go and tell everyone what I told you in confidence. I can say only one thing to you Evan Spader, you are a very shitty friend."
With that, I stormed out of the classroom to get away from all the crowding of the kids. I didn't cry. I had promised myself that I wouldn't appear weak in front of anyone anymore. Yet, it didn't help the pain I felt as the realization sunk in that I had called off my only good friendship in this life.
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