Exit, Pursued by a Bear

“Oh, dear God in hell, why’d you do that?!”

This tore me out of dreamland.

I sat up, eyes closed, dry drool on my chin, hair probably an afro from tossing and turning all night, my room pitch black, and shouted just as loud, “Why are you yelling?! I’m sleeping, for God’s sake!”

“Shut up, Maggie!” I heard Corn yell from outside my window.

My eyes opened, and my left one started twitching.

No one told me to shut up.

I slid out of bed and sprinted downstairs, then outside to the clearing where we sparred.

“Corn…,” I growled, stalking toward the twerp, my hands outstretched to strangle him.

“Roman, control your sister!” Wayland demanded.

I believe I roared at this point.

“I’m too young to die!” Corn cried, dropping to his knees and slapping his hands together. “Please, Maggie, I’ll do anything.”

I stopped, considered, shook my head, and lunged at him.

He screamed like a little girl when I raised my fist in order to punch him in the face.

That’s when Roman tackled me, and we tumbled into a bush.

“You ruined it,” I said. “I was gonna get revenge.”

“For what? You’d been asleep for sixteen hours, Mags.”

“Whatever,” I grumbled, shoving his shoulder.

“Nice afro, Maggie,” Ruther commented, nodding so his longish black hair bounced a little.

I ignored him—until Corn laughed.

“Shut up, cretin,” I hissed at the boy.

“Stop,” Wayland said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

My lips pressed into a hard line as I turned and strode over to the nearest tree. Exhaling slowly, I sat cross-legged under it to watch the others spar.

“Okay,” Roman said, picking the last twig out of his hair. “I’ll pair you guys up, and just fight ‘til one of you gets pinned on the ground.” He had them all line up, shortest to tallest, which was Corn, who was extremely short at five-two, to Travis, who was easily six feet tall. “Corn versus Ruther. Porter versus Dana. Wayland versus Jonnie. And, I’ll fight the new kid.” He grinned evilly, and I saw so much of myself in him. “Alright. Commence!”

I watched, bored, as they placed light kicks and soft punches on each other. Pathetic.

I was actually surprised when Travis pinned Roman down.

Soon, it was over, and Jonnie went to make gourmet peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for everyone while the rest of us lounged in the grass outside.

Roman came to sit next to me. He looked devastated by his defeat.

“I’m… devastated,” he said. “I lost, Maggie. I lost.”

“I saw,” I said, and I shook my head in disappointment. “Poor you.” Then, I looked over at Travis, who was sitting by himself. “Hey, kid. C’mere.”

He got up, walked over, and said, “What’s up?”

“How’d you do that?”

“Do what?”

I pointed to Roman. “How’d you beat him?”

“Beginner’s luck, that’s how!” Roman said at a volume that was quite unnecessary. Then, he stood and stalked into the woods.

“Seriously,” I said. “How?”

“I guess I'm just good like that.” He winked at me, and my heart fluttered.

Really. He actually winked. And I actually felt… weird. Good weird.

“There’s no possible way you could’ve beaten him,” I said. “I mean, we’re both black belts in, like, every martial art there is.”

“Right…” He didn’t sound convinced.

“Well, how would you know? You don’t know me.” I folded my arms across my chest.

“I’d like to.”

I made a confused face, even though I wasn’t. Gosh, he was making me act weird, and I’d known him for less than a day. “No, you don’t.”

He just smiled and shook his head.

Jonnie came out with two plates piled high with sandwiches just then, and I immediately stood up to go get one—sandwich. Not one plate.

Everybody took two, except Dana, who ripped one of the sandwiches in half and threw the other half to Sparkplug. (I hadn’t even realized he was there; he must have joined them while I was still sleeping.)

To one-up Dana—literally—I grabbed another sandwich and double-fisted lunch with the boys.

Roman returned and double-fisted it, too.

“What weapon will we be learning to use today, Ruther?” Jonnie asked, already on his third sandwich.

“The katana,” Ruther replied.

My eyes widened. “You’re gonna let someone like Corn swing a sharp object around and possibly cut someone’s head off?”

“Hey!” Corn said, but we all ignored him.

“Yes.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Wayland said under his breath.

“Do you remember what happened last time we let the dumbass hold an instrument of death?” Roman asked around his sandwich.

“He nearly decapitated Porter!” Dana exclaimed. “I vote Corn to forever remain the lackey boy.”

“I’ll second that motion,” Jonnie said.

“And, I’ll third it,” Wayland said, resting an arm around his brother’s shoulders.

Porter, unsurprisingly, said nothing, his brown face a mask of indifference as he stared past the trees.

“Alright, alright,” Ruther said. “Corn’ll sit this one out.”

“I vote he sit everything out,” I said, and Roman covered his face as he shook with silent laughter.

“Maggie…,” Wayland warned.

“I just don’t want anyone else getting hurt, okay?”

“Porter’ll be fine,” Jonnie said. “As long as we don’t let Corn near him.”

“Or anyone, for that matter,” Dana added.

“Hey!” Corn said again.

“Shut up,” the rest of us—minus Travis—said in unison.

“What’s so bad about him holding a weapon?” Travis piped up.

“Oh, Jesus,” Wayland said again.

“Let’s put it this way: If we were Hiroshima, Corn would be a hydrogen bomb,” Ruther said.

“Ooh, World War Two reference,” Travis said.

Jonnie’s mouth dropped open. “I’m Japanese, man. That was cold.”

“I'm just stating the truth,” Ruther told him, shrugging.

“Okay, but, yeah,” I said. “Corn shouldn’t handle weapons. At all.”

“All in favor?” Wayland said.

Everybody, except Corn, raised their hands.

“I can take a hint,” Corn said, and he went into the house.

“Whatever,” Dana said. “Now that he’s gone, can we get on with the lesson?”

“Yes.” Ruther got up and jogged around the side of the house.

While we waited for him to get today’s weapon, we did some stretches as a group.

“The katana,” Ruther said, returning with four of them, “originates from Japan. It’s also known as a ‘samurai sword’. The blade is sixty centimeters long, or twenty-three-point-six inches. As you can see…” He placed three of them on the grass and pulled the last one out of its sheath. “The blade is curved, and only one side of it is sharp. It’s normally a two-handed weapon. Any questions?”

“Uh, yeah,” Travis said. “We’re gonna be swinging those around?”

Ruther nodded.

“I am so glad we sent Corn away.”

I laughed, but tried to hide it with a cough.

“I’m pretty sure you read everyone’s mind,” Roman said. He turned to Ruther. “Okay. Show us how to use the damn thing.”

Ruther nodded once and went into a whole pre-choreographed routine involving the sword.

When he was finished, I gave a low whistle and pretended to be impressed, like everyone else was doing; we were so used to him showing off.

Travis, on the other hand, was genuinely impressed.

“That was so cool,” he was whispering to Jonnie as I got up to go against Ruther.

“Are you sure you can handle it?” he asked, plucking one of the swords from the ground and handing it to me.

“Yes.” I scowled at him, unsheathing the sword. “Don’t make me go all Corn on your ass.”

He laughed and stabbed at me.

I dodged, bringing the sword up to protect my face from his horizontal swipe.

“This isn’t really a lesson. This is more you trying to kill my sister,” Roman said.

“This is a lesson,” Ruther said, still stabbing and jabbing at me. “You’re learning from Maggie’s mistakes.” With that, he grazed the blade against the outside of my right thigh.

“Ow.” Blood oozed down my leg.

Ruther grinned.

“Sparkplug, attack.”

Sparkplug leaped at Ruther, knocking him down, and latched his jaw around the boy’s throat, growling fiercely.

“I think I win.”

“No way. You cheated,” Jonnie said.

Ruther tried to say something, but couldn’t due to his current lack of oxygen.

“Go lay down, you filthy mutt.” I lightly kicked my dog in the side, and he backed off as I
lowered the point of my sword to Ruther’s nose. “I think we’re done here.” I let the sword fall into the grass beside him.

“Impressive,” he gasped. “But, you did cheat.”

I shrugged. “That’s how I do.” I went to take my seat next to my brother as Wayland went up to battle the master.

The fight was boring and ended within three seconds, Wayland on the ground with Ruther towering over him.

“Okay.” Ruther helped Wayland to his feet. “I need two pairs. Who wants to duel?”

Someone coughed, but, otherwise, no one spoke up.

“I’ll have a go.”

Eight heads swiveled to Porter.

That was the first time I’d heard him speak in months.

We all watched as he stood and joined Ruther at the front of the class. After his sudden
outburst, though, his eyes went back to being glassy.

Ruther was the first to shake the look of “holy shit” off of him. “Anyone against Porter?”

Jonnie raised his hand.

“Come on up, sport. Another pair?”

No one volunteered, so he picked out Dana and Travis.

“The key is to use both hands,” Ruther said. “And, that’s about it. Fight!”

As the two couples sword-fought, I dabbed at my leg with my shirt until Roman went and got me a bandage.

“Thanks, bro,” I said when he’d finished patching me up.

He just shook his head, disappointed in me this time. “You coulda taken him.”

“Not really, but thanks for believing in me.”

He shook his head again and watched the fights.

I did so, too, and realized, with great pleasure, that although Travis was a master at hand-to-hand combat, he was no good with a sword.

I allowed myself a pitying smile.