2103:12:29:14:00:06

  Unlike the Tuesday evening one on Christmas, the Saturday sambo lesson continued on despite the winter break. Though it was moved up to be a bit earlier than usual – something about a special exercise css only avaible during the break that required the hall during its usual hours.

  Mister Karaketov was as strict in his punctuality as per usual, and the gruff-and-tough-looking bald-headed, bearded man looked as dour as always. The only thing that betrayed his cheer was the Santa hat strapped to his head, whose bell softly jingled whenever he moved. Which he did a lot, for obvious reasons.

  “Does that every year,” Saga whispered.

  Practice for today, at least for me, focused on defense: how to take a fall, escape holds and turn the situation around, etcetera – all a continuation of the previous training I’d done. Not that I didn’t learn throws, grapples, kicks, punches or anything like that. It was just that I had to learn those the hard way: by having Saga – and Mister Karaketov, and very rarely a few others – perform them on me.

  Not that I was compining. Learning how to correctly take a fall was a useful yet difficult-to-acquire skill, running against the grain of in-born – or in my case, pre-programmed – instinct and reflex as it did. Amber-as-Crowsong had already taught me some of it, but mostly in the form of falling from heights, dodging strikes and projectiles while creating distance, and ducking for cover in a firefight and move to get in a better position. Not so much holds or grapples and the like.

  To turn said fall into an advantage was another skill entirely. I’d already used some techniques – both falling techniques and for creating an advantage – I learned in sambo during the fights with both Snorkel and Acute Puncture to great effect, so I was eager to learn more. And the more experience I got here, the better I would be out there.

  The lessons themselves took an hour, after which we spend another half hour sparring against each other. Ever since the first lesson Mister Karakatov had naturally become less and less lenient toward me, and had started pairing me up with the other regurs rather than just Saga. That said, he still seemed to favor me- well, me, Saga, and one other in the group: a young man by the name of Jeffrey Childers. I didn’t know exactly why it was us three, but it might have something to do with the fact that we were the only ones to go to both the Tuesday and Saturday csses? For me at least; in the case of Saga and Jeffrey it was probably because they did well on tournaments.

  Either way, it was interesting, sparring against people not Saga, and fighting people not henchies or masked in general. I felt a greater need to restrain my android-power against them than against either Amber or even Saga, both for fear of exposure and to prevent injury. This self-imposed handicap actually helped improve my fighting techniques faster – at least, it did according to Saga and Amber – because fighting people with different builds and on different levels of, ah, squishiness helped me learn control better, forced me to think more, and ultimately got me to tackle things more creatively. And from there, it would help me in my masking career in fights against henchies and close-quarters, physically-focused masked. Their short-distance fighting abilities ranged wildly, and since I didn’t enjoy hurting people when I could avoid it, I needed to learn how to both spot their level of squishiness and skill, and how to adapt to it.

  After finishing my sparring with a losing streak against Jeffery, Saga and I hit the showers and took our leave of the sports hall. Rather than each of us going our separate ways, Saga and I took the buss back to my pce. The day was still retively early, after all.

  When I opened the door to, we found Mom lying on the couch reading a book on her Paperfold. Without rising, she arched so she could look at who was entering. “Ah, Sammy.” She rose from her seat and walked over. “And you must be Saga,” she added with a smile.

  Of course, I had messaged Mom beforehand that she’d be coming with.

  “Nice to meet you, Ma’am,” Saga said, stiffly reaching out for a handshake.

  Mom accepted and shook it heartily, grinning. “‘Ma’am’, huh?” She snorted and said, “Call me Kati,” with a smirk a mile wide. “And here Mei told me I’d better prepare myself!”

  She ughed in the way only Moms do when teasing their daughters' friends. And from the looks of it, her teasing worked; Saga was blushing and faux-casually shrugged, not denying the accusation. I looked at her with an eyebrow raised, which she pointedly ignored. I’d never seen her act like this.

  “Sorry, sorry! Just having a bit of fun,” Mom said, waving it off. “I’ll just take my reader and go upstairs, leave you two to enjoy yourself.” She did just that, but stopped halfway up the stairs to turn around. “And Sam? Don’t forget to offer some refreshments; you know where the snacks are.”

  “Yeah,” I said with a huff. “Just go already.”

  She smiled and left.

  “Do you want anything?” I asked Saga.

  “A coke, if you have one,” she said.

  “We have Wright’s?” I offered. Some people could be particur with that kind of thing.

  She shrugged, which I took as a yes. I went into the kitchen and poured us some soda, then grabbed a bag of sweet popcorn and O’Lairs crackers and chips and put them on the table by the couch.

  With Saga wined and dined, I asked, “What was that all about?”

  “Nothing,” Saga said, a bit too quick. “Just, ah… when I met Jolie’s mom for the first time I was actually pretty rude.” I gave her a look. “I was twelve, orphaned and a literal problem child, okay? How was I supposed to know.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Uh-huh, you just thought it,” Saga said. “Either way, she must’ve told your mom about it or something.”

  “Didn’t even know they’d met,” I said, taking a cracker.

  “Don’t know if they did, but I’m pretty sure they’ve got a group chat or something. Millie and Jolie’s mom already had one, so they could’ve just added your mom to it, especially with the way she and Millie’s got along.” She took a chip from the bag. “Either that, or through parent-teacher stuff. Heard they often have group chats like that back in basic school; don’t know if they do it for high schoolers though.”

  Ah. “That makes sense.” I scrunched my brows. “Do you think your house parent is in that group?”

  “Hell if I know,” Saga said, taking another chip. “Hope not though. She makes life unpleasant enough as-is; no need for her to poison the well outside of our home too.”

  I shrugged and, not knowing what else to say, took a sip from my own Wright’s co. I redirected the conversation. “How was Christmas anyway?”

  She smiled. “Pretty good. Couldn’t spend the whole Christmas with Jolie because she went out-of-region to visit family, but Christmas Eve was pretty great – we did the presents, had a big meal, the works. Mister and Mrs. Brown got me a set of weights I’d been eyeing, so I can finally get a good workout at home. And as for Christmas itself,” her smile fgged a bit, but didn’t totally disappear, which was a good sign, “I worked at the convenience store for basically the entire day. It was busy, but I got the double sary and everything, plus the manager gave me and one of my housemates a goodie bag. Probably because we’re ‘poor orphans’ or something.”

  Funnily enough, she didn’t seem bothered by the characterization, which seemed out of pce for her. Maybe she got along with her manager?

  “What about you?” she asked. “How did that trip to the ke go?”

  “It was good for the most part,” I said. “We went to the Seattle Memorial Museum-”

  Her eyes went wide. “Ah, right, you never went!”

  “Basically because of that, yeah,” I said.

  “God, I hated that pce.” She scrunched her nose. “It was so boring and dour and took waaaay too long. Then the tour guide made one of the other kids cry with his-” she made air-quotes with her hands, “-‘scary’ stories. Like, we were ten; who does that? And it wasn’t even a funny cry; apparently her grandparents lived there, and only one made it out.”

  Not knowing how to respond to that, I said, “I thought the museum was okay. The best part were the dioramas though.” Saga nodded in agreement. “We went hiking the next day, Mom told me some stories about previous family trips, and then at night we saw the lights out on the ke. And that was basically it.”

  Saga nodded, then asked the thing I knew she was going to ask. “And did she tell you the… you know, big secret?”

  I’d told my friends of what I expected would happen when we went there. Of course I couldn’t tell Saga what it was, so I just said, “Yep.”

  A moment of quiet. “Sooo, what was it?”

  “A big secret,” I joked, even if I had to force some of it.

  Only partially though; the passage of time had helped, and so did the Heroic Impulse forcing itself on me in a strange way. Like everything I did and felt from Nth-Sight to Mom and Michael could be bmed on my faulty creation… maybe. The sight of Nth-Sight plummeting to his death still haunted her regardless.

  “Really?” Saga deadpanned, to which I nodded and took a handful of popcorn. Saga followed by taking a handful and leaning back into the couch, aggressively eating the popcorn in one bite. “Ugh, fine,” she mumbled through the mouthful, then swallowed. “What about Christmas? Or is that secret as well?”

  Yes, but, “I got… sort of into an argument with my brother.” I didn’t know how else to describe it without actually describing it. “And now my mother knows I’m Jester.” There, a distraction.

  Saga paused mid-bite, the chip she’d just taken hanging from her mouth. She quickly ate it. “No way! For real?”

  “Hm-hmm,” I hummed affirmatively.

  “How did that happen?”

  “Got into said fight, then transformed into a crow and flew into a window.”

  Saga ughed, then stopped at seeing my serious expression. “Wait, you’re serious?”

  “Yup.”

  She ughed, again. How mean. “That’s got to have been, like, top ten funniest un-masking stuff right there.”

  I frowned. “Is that a real thing?” That didn’t seem like something masked would allow to exist unchallenged.

  Saga shook her head. “Not real-real, but like, compiled from movies and stuff.”

  That made more sense.

  “But anyway, your mom knows now?” she asked. I nodded, and she must’ve seen something – or a ck of something – in my expression, because she raised her eyebrows in astonishment. “And she’s okay with it?

  I tilted my head left and right, considering. “I don’t know if okay’s the word I would use,” I said. “We haven’t really talked much about it, but she basically said she couldn’t really stop me, and so won’t.”

  “Huh,” Saga huh-ed. “That’s pretty cool of her.”

  There were extenuating circumstances, but I suppose it was.

  “By the way, speaking of secret stuff…”

  “Yeah?” Saga said, licking her hand clean (ew) and grabbing her css of coke.

  I ate the st of my popcorn and repositioned, dramatically staring her straight in the eyes. “Amber told me about what happened. Like, all of it.”

  “Really?” She looked surprised, took a sip, and frowned. “Wait, what do you mean ‘all of it’?”

  Now I frowned as well. “What do you mean ‘what do you mean’? I thought you knew the whole backstory.”

  “Fuck no,” Saga said. “I just overheard the shit that floated around. I didn’t, like, ask about any of it; I didn’t care!”

  “What did you hear then?”

  “Nah-ah,” she countered. “You first.”

  “I can’t do that without knowing what you know,” I said. “It’s sensitive stuff, not the kind of thing I can share without permission.”

  “God, another secret?” She shook her head. “Fine. All I know is she got into a fight with her friend and near punched her tooth out or something. Then that girl started spreading shit, and then the whole cafeteria stuff happened. So, what did she tell you?”

  I nodded. “Basically that, plus what actually started the whole thing,” I said. “Which I can’t say.”

  “Jesus, this is an-no-ying!” she compined. “Why bring it up if you can’t say anything!”

  “Because she wants to apologize,” I said, rolling my eyes in exasperation.

  She raised an eyebrow, doubt clear.

  “Okay, well, maybe she doesn’t want to apologize,” I admitted. “But she is genuinely sorry. And I’m going to get her to say it to you.”

  Saga snorted into her gss. “When pigs fly maybe.”

  “Ah-hah!” I said triumphantly. “But they already-”

  “-did that in Australia; yes, I know that, Sam.” She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to bring it up every time; it’s an expression.” I shrugged, unrepentant. “What makes you think I even want an apology?”

  I raised my eyebrows at that. “You don’t?”

  “I literally don’t care, Sam. Not about Amber, not about what she did – even though she got me suspended for it. She literally doesn’t matter to me, and neither does some forced apology.” She scowled. “I mean, I literally talked to her about it ter, trying to say I understand and shit like that, and the bitch blew me off! So what do I care that she actually feels bad now of all times.”

  “She didn’t tell me that,” I said, though I doubted it went down like Saga said.

  She sniffed. “Yeah, no surprise there.”

  “But she does feel sorry about it,” I said with conviction. “And while what she did to you was wrong, it wasn’t like there weren’t other factors at py. I mean, haven’t you done something you regret? Started a fight you wish you hadn’t?” It was a guess, but knowing her, there was no doubt in my mind Saga had gotten into fights before, and likely even started a few.

  From her grimacing look, it seemed I was correct. “If she wanted to apologize, she would’ve done so already. It’s not like I’m hard to find or anything; we’re literally in the same css.”

  “She didn’t deny wanting to apologize; she just thought it wouldn’t do any good,” I said. “And, well, I think different. I think it would do both you and her good to clear the air and start fresh. Don’t you agree?”

  Saga mumbled something I couldn’t hear.

  “Besides, doesn’t anyone deserve a little forgiveness?” I made doe-eyes as I said it.

  Saga snorted – a good sign. “Is that the hero in you talking?” she said, clearly joking, but also half-seriously considering my proposal. I simply nodded in response. “Fine. Whatever. So, what’s the pn?”

  I shrugged. “Haven’t thought much about it. As long as you’re both there, any time and pce is fine, I think.” I rubbed my chin, thinking. “Maybe at the skate park or something? It’s Amber and her friends’ favorite hangout spot, so she’d probably feel fine doing it there. Besides, I got a skateboard for Christmas, so maybe we can go skate right after as well, and there’s a basketball court and other stuff.”

  Saga stared at me for a moment, eyes narrowing before giving up. “Sure, whatever. Sounds good. Now, can we finally watch Redsummer Nights? I’ve been literally dying to see it.”

  I smirked, the sweet taste of victory on my lips as I reached for my phone. Good. Everything was coming-

  My phone vibrated just as I was about to press py. I read the message and turned to Saga. “Mom’s asking what you want for dinner?”

  accope