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Myka Ophelia Bering pushed herself to finish the last quarter mile of her run before resting her hands on her knees and taking some well-earned, deep breaths. After stretching out her long legs to soothe the impending cramps, she stopped for a moment to check her phone. Having only shaved thirteen seconds off her last run time, Myka shook her head in disgust, vowing to push herself even harder tomorrow.
'Good enough just isn't good enough, Myka'. She reminded herself of her father's second most worn out phrase. The most used phrase was 'Eyes on the prize!', which he used so often that Myka wasn't clear about its meaning until she was eight. Still, it suited the moment, so she added it to her motivational thought process.
The first semester of her senior year at USI (The Univille S.T.E.M. Institute) was just beginning. She had two terms left in which to make enough of an impression to clinch the Frederic Scholarship, which would grant her a paid internship at Warehouse, which would guarantee her future in scholarly scientific research and get her out of Univille. Eyes on the prize, indeed.
She walked off the track to the locker room, grabbing a towel from the pile set there for the athletes' convenience. She ran it across her chest and around to the back of her neck. After getting rid of any excess sweat, she tossed the towel into the laundry bin and headed toward her locker. There were some other women in the locker room, but Myka didn't know them. She didn't do team sports, didn't go to pep rallys and didn't really have a lot of girl friends. Except Claudia, of course. But Claudia wouldn't be caught dead in the gym, so she didn't count.
Reaching her locker, Myka flipped through her combination and tugged it open. The door stuck, having been dented long before Myka had begun to attend school here. She's used to it now, and the idea of a new locker actually filled her with a dread she can't place or name, but it was enough for her to accept the locker, faults and all.
She pulled off her running clothes with a practiced nonchalance, rummaging in her locker for her shower kit and bath towels. She tucked her gym gear in a small laundry bag inside her gym bag and locked the locker, checking twice to make sure.
Myka scurried to the showers and shut the curtain on her regular stall which was thankfully empty. Changes in her routine sometimes unsettled Myka for the rest of the day. Like everything she did, she showered efficiently. Feeling squeaky clean, she turned off the water and quickly ran a towel over her body before wrapping her hair up in a white cottony turban. She wrapped the other towel around her and gathered her things, returning to her locker for her street clothes and school bag.
Dressed and ready, aside from wet curly hair dripping onto her blue dress shirt, Myka Ophelia Bering straightened her shoulders and went out to conquer the day.
“Mykes!” Pete's voice whined at her from down the hall. “Mykes! You're coming to the party tonight, right?”
“Who has a party on a Wednesday night?” Myka rolled her eyes, kicking off her low heels at the door. She hung up her light jacket and walked through to the common room, immediately shoving Pete's feet off the coffee table.
“Um, duh?” Pete underlined the writing on his chest with his hands. The shirt read Univille Agents, the name for their under-performing college football team. “Only the coolest, brawniest, manliest of men!”
“So, Steve's hosting?” Myka smirked, dropping her messenger bag gently to the floor and sinking into the easy chair.
“Yes, but I am invited!” Pete gestured to himself with his thumbs, triumphant.
“Ah.” Myka smiled at him. “No.”
“But Mykes?” Pete fell back on the couch, making a sad pouty face. “I need you. You're the best wingman ever.”
“I doubt that,” Myka snorted. “You just want to look like you have a date, and then you'll ditch me for the first woman who bats her eyes at you.”
“I would not!” Pete looked insulted. “You doubt my chivalry?”
“I doubt a lot of things, Pete.” Myka walked the few feet toward the kitchen. “But I do not doubt that you will leave me sitting in a corner within ten minutes, and that I'll end up coming back here to study for my Bio-chem quiz anyway.” She opened the fridge and took out two beers. “So I'm just going to skip the whole awkward uncomfortable part and stay home.”
“You say that now.” Pete smiled knowingly. “But you can't deny the Pete charm.”
“Isn't that the line you tried on me in freshman year?” Myka pretended to think, pointing at him with the bottle opener.
“Ouch.” Pete grabbed his chest. “That hurts, Myka. I am wounded.”
“Ask Claudia to go with you.” Myka shrugged, popping off the beer caps and waving them in the direction of the third bedroom. She took a step back toward the couch. “She's better with that whole, being in public, making conversation, thing.”
“You're too hard on yourself,” Pete grinned, “You're pretty enough that most dudes don't care what comes out of your mouth,”
“You're an ass!” Myka walked away furiously, taking both bottles with her.
“What? You like my ass?” Pete rubbed his hands together. “I knew it!”
“Shut up, Pete!” Myka hollered back.
Myka's door slammed hard. Pete high-fived himself. Then he remembered.
“Hey! What about my beer?”
Professor Arthur Nielsen was a notorious curmudgeon. He seemed to constantly be frustrated and red-faced, and his temper flared at the slightest provocation. Thus, Myka always arrived ten minutes early, and sat not in the front like she was wont to do, but in the middle row, third from the left. Homework was always completed and required materials always neatly arranged on her desk. Not to ingratiate herself, but because Myka wanted nothing more than to mitigate any possibility that Professor Nielsen might yell at her. Her whole schedule on Thursdays had been carefully arranged to avoid any chance of being caught under Nielsen's withering gaze.
So it was with great disappointment and fear that Myka found herself sprinting across the campus at 8:56AM, hoping and praying for a clear path to her classroom. She leapt up Regent Hall's front steps, and dashed down the corridor. Two lefts and a right, and she was home fr-.
“Hunh!” Myka's breath left her lungs in a rush as she smacked into a solid object. Her belongings, of course, took the opportunity to scatter across the marble floor, as Myka barely managed to keep her body upright.
“Bloody hell!” Myka knew that voice. She looked up into the face of the enemy. “Oh, hello! Are you alright, darling?”
“I...” Myka gathered her things hastily, pushing down her anger at this woman. “Am... fine, thank you. And, also late.”
“I was hoping to run into you, Myka.” Her deceptively attractive foe shifted, looking uncomfortable. “Not quite so literally, of course.”
“Sorry...” Myka shook her head. “Won't happen again.”
“Pity.” Eyes looked her up and down. “I don't often have women throwing themselves at me, but I shall endeavor to-”
“I wasn't!” Myka's face burned. “You! You, are...”
“And so demure, too.” A smile that could light up the night sky. “How charming!”
“I really...” Myka was at the end of her patience. “I need to go!”
Myka ran the twenty feet to the door of her class, exactly four and a half minutes late.
Myka bit her lip, blinking hard to avoid the humiliation of crying in front of her entire Physics class. She stood, fidgeting, clenching her hands into fists, almost shaking with rage at the injustice of it all.
“Ms. Bering.” Nielsen began his speech, gesturing with a piece of chalk, walking in front of the board as he gathered steam. “I must say I'm disappointed. Of all my students, I never thought you would disrespect me, the class, and yourself by disrupting my lecture.” He turns to pin her with his beady eyes. “Lateness!” He yelled. “Lateness is the calling card of the feeble minded, the lazy, the disinterested!” He enunciated. “Ms. Bering, would you attach those descriptions to yourself?”
“N-nn-o, Professor Nielsen.” Myka's face managed to become redder.
“Up until today, I thought you had escaped the miasma of your generation, and were truly interested in gaining an education.” He sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. “But now I despair that you have been corrupted by lassitude. Enticed by debauchery and substance abuse. Ensnared by your own hormones!”
“I—I” Myka choked on her denial.
“Ah!” The door slammed and all heads turn to the lithe young woman standing in the doorway. “So sorry I'm late. I bumped into someone on the way here.” A glance up at Myka contains a speedy wink. “This is lecture hall 23B, yes?”
“It is.” Professor Nielsen gritted his teeth, hating being interrupted again. “And who...”
“Wonderful!” The woman shone her bright smile upon the room, adding a slight wave to endear her to the group. “It's lovely to meet you all. I'll just take a seat with my dear friend Myka, shall I?”
“Please do.” Nielsen said with venom. “Myka, sit. Now, if we can get back to it?”
Myka landed heavily in her chair, decidedly not looking at her new seatmate.
“Don't stop on my account.” The young woman sat delicately beside Myka, grinning with some private triumph.
“This is your fault.” Myka whispered venomously.
“Absolutely, darling.” That smile, again.
Myka sat, barely hearing the lecture. And she stewed. And recalled the events of the night before.
“Is it always so loud?” Myka yelled into Pete's ear, trying to compete with the sonic bass coming from the oversize speakers. “Why is it so loud?”
“It's party bass?” Claudia shrugs. “Pretty sure there's a rule.”
“Um, yeah!” Pete made a face, pulling her along to the kitchen. “Steve-o, my bro!”
“Hey Pete!” Steve waved from behind the keg, where he was playing bartender. “Claude, Myka!”
“Steve!” Claudia nestled herself into Steve's shoulder for a hug. “Who's my favorite human?”
“I am.” Steve laughed and handed her a beer.
“Yay!” Claudia took a healthy sip. “Booze? Check. Steve-hug? Check. Now, I must go and badger the D.J.!”
“Ooh! Badger for me too! I need me some Aerosmith!” Pete called out to her retreating form. Claudia turned back to give Pete a thumbs up.
“Pete?” A voluptuous brunette fell dramatically against Pete's chest.
“Kelly?” Pete saved his beer from tragic spillage. “What... uh....”
“Pete!” Kelly slapped his chest lightly. “Petey-bear. I miss you.”
Myka mouthed 'Petey-bear?' at Steve from behind Kelly's drunken back. They both covered their laughter with more drinking.
“Yeah, babe. I miss you too.” Pete set his cup down, grabbing her slappy hands and holding them to his chest. “But you're drunk, and I'm not gonna be that guy.”
Myka smiled. This is why she loved Pete. For all his childishness and bro-ness, he was a good man at heart.
“I know you're not... that, guy.” Kelly slurred. “I'm not that girl, too.”
“Sober? No.” Pete pulled her into a big enveloping hug. “But hey, what if Petey-bear got you home and snuggly and stayed to make sure you don't choke on your own vomit? What about that, huh?”
“Sounds dreamy.” Kelly giggled, knowing that she was being condescended to but feeling okay with it at that moment. “Two minutes, okay babe?” She wobbled out on her heels, using the walls to navigate.
“Hey Myka.” Pete put on his serious face. “I know I said I wouldn't bail...”
“Go ahead.” Myka motioned at the other half of the on-again, off-again couple. “Walk her home. It's fine.”
“You sure?” Pete touched her shoulder.
“Totally.” Myka nodded, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I have a date with a Bio-Chem textbook anyway.”
“Naw, Mykes.” Pete looked at her imploringly. “Stay, have some fun. Meet some people. Maybe meet... yunno, someone?” He waggled his eyebrows.
“I can help with that!” Steve smiled as he poured another round. “I just saw a friend I wanted you to meet, Myka. She's new. I'll go find her!” He put down the last cup, wiped his hands on his ass, and went out in search of this mystery woman.
“See?” Pete nudged Myka in the ribs. “Steve's got the hook up!”
“That is a terrible idea.” Myka smiled down at the floor.
“Half an hour.” Pete demanded as Kelly dragged him away. “Just give it half an hour!”
“Fine!” Myka shooed them away “Go!”
Myka checked her watch.
“Pardon me, but is this seat taken?”
Myka looked up from her something-th beer to explain that there was no seat to take, as she was sitting on the back steps of a frat house. Instead she saw long dark, silky hair. Skin, smooth and pale like a beach on a calm day. Dark eyes, red lips. Myka's eyes slipped from the face, down the neck and was loitering somewhere in a lovely expanse of decolletage, when the mirage spoke again.
“Ah, I see.” The vision sat on the steps beside her, gently pulling Myka's drink out of her hands. “Are you alright?”
“M'fine.” Myka wrung her hands, hiding her face in her curls. “Quiet here.”
“It is quite boisterous in there, I agree.” A soft touch guided Myka's hair back behind her ear. “I'm Helena. I'm going to walk you home if that's alright. What is your name, darling?”
“Myka.” Myka turned to appraise this Helena in her entirety.
“Beautiful.” The woman said, maybe about the name.
“Yeah.” Myka stared at Helena. She had never seen a more beautiful woman in her life, including in the movies. “I should go.”
“Of course.” Helena stood, leaning down to assist Myka in doing the same.
“What time is it?” Myka looked at her watch but it seemed wrong. She held it up to her ear to hear the ticking. No ticking. “I said I'd wait for half an hour. He went to go get her and isn't back, but...”
“I'm sure your friends will understand.” Helena took Myka's hand and patted it. “It's quarter to two.”
“In the morning?” Myka blurted, shocked. “Shit!”
“Problem, darling?” Helena asked, concerned.
“Tomorrow's Thursday!” Myka pulled her hands from Helena's grasp in order to twist them in panic. She took some stumbling steps toward the exit before Helena caught her arm.
“Actually, today's Thursday.” Helena smiled, amused by Myka's drunken antics.
“Not helping!” Myka glared. “I have to go."
“Then go we shall.” Helena guided them down the porch stairs and on to the front lawn of the party house. “Lead the way.”
“Right.” Myka turned left on the sidewalk and started determinedly walking home.
“Right?” Helena asked gently.
“Right!” Myka slapped her forehead with a silly grin and executed a perfect about face.
The walk across campus was long enough to sober Myka up a bit. At least, she could form sentences and enunciate properly. The world did tilt occasionally in strange, gravity defying ways, but all in all, Myka was improving with every step. She fumbled through a few safe topics, and Helena was gracious enough to engage with her in all of them, but neither of them knew much about sports or cared much about weather, so there were many long silences in between the stilted exchanges. Still, Myka persevered.
“So, um...” Myka fumbled for a successful topic of conversation. God she was so bad at this. “What's your major?”
“A bit of this, a bit of that.” Helena smirked, and then answered off Myka's now-familiar glare. “Engineering. I fancy myself an inventor,” Helena laughed at her own hubris. “But my hands are just itching to make something! I don't even know what yet, but I have a few ideas sketched out. I'm interested in working with some older technologies that I feel have never been fully developed. Steam trains, clock works; it's truly amazing what people have managed to create with such limited means!”
“Wow, I've never seen anyone so excited about school.” Myka shuffled her hair out of her face. “Except for maybe me.”
“And what is your major, Myka?” Helena asked with a soft smile.
“Um, I'm actually double majoring in Biochemistry and Physics, and taking a double minor in Languages and Classical Literature.” Myka looked apologetic, and then shook her head. “I know, I know! It's too much, I'll never graduate, I'll burn out. I've heard it all. But I can do it. I have been doing it.”
“I'm sure you have.” Helena looked at her, impressed. “But what about fun?”
“Fun?” Myka looked confused. “What about it?”
“When do you make time for fun?” Helena nudged Myka's shoulder. “You know, parties? Friends?”
“I have friends.” Myka defended. “They understand my schedule.”
“And um,” Helena looked up, almost shy. “What about dating?”
“Oh, I don't have to worry about that.” Myka snorted. “I'm not really a people person.”
“Am I not people?” Helena asked, wide eyed. “You're doing an excellent job keeping me entertained.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Myka proceeded to explain. “But I don't get asked out. Not by anyone I'd say yes to.”
“Ah.” Helena lowered her head. “I find it hard to believe that not one worthy candidate has made themselves known?”
“There was this one guy, in Sophomore year.” Myka admitted. “Sam. We dated for a while, but he said I talked too much about things he couldn't understand. He even once accused me of doing it on purpose to make him feel stupid.”
“Imbecile.” Helena rolled her eyes in disgust.
“Huh?” Myka frowned. “No. Sam was a good guy. He was just-”
“An imbecile.” Helena corrected her. “Who else would let a woman of your caliber go?”
“So he should have stayed with me, even though he didn't like anything about me?” Myka challenged.
“That's not what I...”
“Oh, I know what you meant! That I should just shut up and smile, so I can keep a boyfriend. Nobody wants to date a nerd, right? Pete said the same thing to me tonight, but at least he was kidding, I think!” Myka let her rage swell. “Well let me tell you something! I'm not like you!” She pointed at a confused Helena.
“I don't have perfect straight hair that does that flip thing, naturally! I don't have an accent that makes every word I say sound smart and sexy. I am awkward and I'm clumsy. I'm too tall and my hair is too curly and my body is too boyish and I'm too smart and too stupid to be able to hide any of it!”
Myka finished her tirade at a volume she never usually used. Her chest was heaving, her heart pounding, her hand trembling in front of her mouth. She could not believe she'd said all of that. Neither seemingly could Helena, who was staring at her with a cautious curiousness Myka had never seen anyone else pull off so attractively.
“I...” Myka lost all her words, and shrugged her shoulders. “I can see my house from here.”
“Can you?” Helena murmured involuntarily.
“Yeah.” Myka shuffled away from Helena, thumbing back to her place awkwardly. “So, you know. Safe now, and all that.”
“I see.” Helena frowned. “I would rather see you to your door, if I may.”
“No, you mayn't? Shant?” Myka shook her head. “Anyway, I'll be fine. I'm like, ten doors down.”
Helena nodded, pulling her hands into her pockets.
“Um, thanks.” Myka smiled a fake, mortified smile and turned quickly toward her home. Ten doors later she stepped up to her front porch.
When she looked back, because of course she looked back, Helena was gone.
Myka trudged to her bed, eager to get this night over with. She had been stood up by her friends and some mystery girl that never materialized. She had waited, pathetically, for hours to meet her instead of studying for her Bio-chem test. She had tossed back more warm beer than she could count. And she'd just yelled at the only person who'd tried to talk to her all night. A beautiful woman had walked her home, and been repaid with rudeness and a drunken accusation.
She spent some time staring at her ceiling in self-recrimination, berating herself for what she should have said, how she could have not made an ass of herself. What might have happened if she wasn't such a complete freak.
As sleep claimed her, she decided it would be best if she never left the house again.
Two hours later, Myka was awoken by a clattering and giggling in the kitchen. That sound combination could only mean one thing. Claudia was home.
Myka sighed and crawled out of bed, toed into her slippers and shuffled to the kitchen to stop Claudia from burning their rented house down.
“Dude! You missed a great party.” Claudia had the pancake mix out of the cupboard, and was apparently inventing something using it and half a bag of M&M's.
“Let me do that, sweetie.” Myka took the spatula away from the girl, and sat her drunken friend at the kitchen table while she made these M&M pancake things. “You had fun?” She asked, a bit timidly.
“It was amazing.” Claudia took a gulp of the water Myka set down for her. “Steve intro'd this chick, H.G., that he knows from the LGBT club and lemme tell you...” Claudia finished that sentence with an uncoordinated 'eyebrow raise slash wink' combination move. “That girl can put it away!”
“Did she drink you under the table?” Myka flipped a pancake. “Is she going to be your booze Yoda?”
“Better!” Claudia finished her water, and pouted at her glass until was refilled with orange juice. “She's my new T.A.! Apparently she's off the charts smart, and like, a mechanical genius!”
“You're a genius.” Myka plated a stack of gooey chocolate smeared pancakes, and set them in front of Claudia. “She's probably half as smart as you.”
“More like twice as!” Claudia was intellectually smitten. “She was talking about the reconstruction of molecules as patterns and wavelengths using mechanical processes and dude... Mind. Blown.” Claudia made the sound effect and exploded her fist at her temple. “But she talked about it and I was really getting it! Even drunk at a party, she could explain something like that.”
“Sounds like you have a crush, Claude.” Myka smirked, setting the kettle up to boil.
“Dude, this is a teacher crush if anything.” Claudia rolled her eyes. “I'm still like, ninety-two percent heterosexual. As the D.J. from last night will attest.” Claudia preens, raising her hand for a high five. “Holla!”
“Get some!” Myka slapped Claudia's open hand with hers, confused as to why sex required victory high fives and public announcements, but happy to play along.
The door creaked open, and Claudia and Myka watched as Pete slipped in and quietly closed it behind him. He slipped off his shoes and crept, sock footed into the house proper, looking at the floor to avoid the especially creaky floorboards.
“Hey Pete!” Myka called, watching Pete jump and grab his chest. “How's Kelly?”
“Is that where you disappeared to?” Claudia shook her head. “I love the girl, but you two equals bad news, bro.”
“Yeah.” Pete scratched his head. “But she's a great cuddler.”
“That's all boys ever think about.” Claudia shook her head in feigned disgust. She put on a masculine voice and a terrible accent, and accused Myka. “If you loved me you'd cuddle me!”
“I'm not ready to cuddle!” Myka turned away from Claudia's accusation. “I saw my father cuddle my mother once. It was horrible.” She bit her knuckle helplessly. “I'm not okay.”
“Wait a second, I just got home!” Pete hung up his jacket. “Is this the telenovela? Am I a ruggedly handsome soap actor?”
“No, dude. Keep up.” Claudia rolled her eyes and explained. “I'm the ruggedly handsome Claudio, trying to take the cuddle virtue of Senorita Mikaela, and you...” Claudia pondered.
“You are my brother, Pedro.” Myka decided on the spot. “Who has returned from a gallant expedition to save Contessa Kelly Hernandes from certain death.”
“I can dig it!” Pete grinned wide. “I will need a sword. Ooh, and a sash. A red one, like Zorro!”
“We're not doing the costumes.” Myka admonished. “It's 5:30 in the morning.”
“There will be costumes, Myka” Pedro fumed, enraged to the loins by his fake fiery Latino heritage. “By all that is holy, I swear to you... one day there will be costumes!” Pete spun on his heels and stormed off to bed, which would have been so much more effective if he'd had a cape like Zorro.
“It's time I made my exit, too.” Claudia yawned. “You going back to bed or are you up?”
“I'm up.” Myka shrugged, carefully making her morning coffee. “No point in going back to bed now. I have to be up again in half an hour.”
“Millions would disagree.” Claudia yawned. “That's why they invented snooze buttons.”
“Touche.” Myka laughed and set to tidying the kitchen.
Fencing was one thing Myka did that might be considered a team sport. Except there was no teamwork, really. So, maybe not. But there were group practices, which is why Myka was sitting on a bench in white padding instead of running the track. She was tired, of course. And probably a little hung over, but that was the bed she'd made and she was not going to just lie around in it. She was going to live up to her responsibilities and take the headache as her punishment.
Pete waved from across the gym, where he and Steve were trying to choose some new recruits for the Agents. He looked around, and after whispering something to Steve, he trotted over to Myka and sat beside her.
“Hey Mykes.” Pete yawned. “How rough do you feel?”
“Pretty rough.” Myka smiled wryly. “You?”
“Mostly tired.” Pete yawned. “Kelly kept me up all night.”
“Is this where I high five you and say 'Get some!', cos I already did that for Claudia.” Myka complained.
“Nope.” Pete laughed, smacking Myka's arm lightly. “There was no 'some' to be gotten. I held her hair while she vommed all over the bathroom floor. Then I tucked her in and cleaned the bathroom floor.”
“You're such a good guy.” Myka leaned her head on Pete's shoulder. “I wish someone would clean up my vomit someday.”
“That is the dream.” Pete agreed, nodding solemnly.
“So, what's up?” Myka asked.
“How are your tryouts going, cos I'm about ready to weep like a baby over there.” Pete glanced at the nervous freshmen lining up to test for the football team.
“I haven't really been paying attention, to be honest.” Myka shrugged. She turned her head to the lines of mats laid out on the gym floor, and the mingling group of men and women in her fencing club. The coach, Abigail Chow, caught Myka's eyes and motioned for her to join them.
“Guess I'm up.” Myka lowered her face mask and took up her foil. “Looks like I'm testing the newbies.”
“Kick their asses!” Pete slapped Myka's back and jogged back to his line of football rejects.
“Will do.” Myka whispered her answer, stepping onto the mat closest to her and doing a very quick warm up before entering her starting position.
“Alright people.” Chow clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. “Next group please! Make sure you've signed up before you try out. Line up alphabetically. Martin here,” She gestures to her left, where a stunning blonde with a fierce gaze was slipping on her mask. “Will take the first ten, and Bering here will take the last. Best of three hits this round, just to warm you up.”
Myka focused solely on her new opponent. He was tall and lanky, seemed confident on his feet. He did not know how to handle the foil, however and Myka knew this wasn't going to last long.
“Ready?” Chow set the timer. “En garde!”
Myka had the boy out within a minute, and the next hopeful stepped to the mat. Chow called out the signal and once again Myka dismissed her opponent with speed and efficiency. Over and over again Myka dominated, deflected and destroyed all comers. Some opponents gave her a moment's pause, or had some promise or natural talent. She made mental notes as she fought, reminding herself of which names to mention to Chow after her set.
“Wells!” Chow snapped to get the attention of the next of Myka's victims. “You're up.”
The woman nodded and set herself in position. Myka was impressed. This Wells had obviously taken some lessons or something before. Her stance was elegant and strong, her foil was loose in her hand but set at an aggressive angle. This one might make a great sparring partner, once she got the hang of things.
At Chow's signal, Wells stepped forward and made her attack. Myka fended off the assault with her usual skillfulness, no wasted energy on flourishes or show boating. Myka fenced as though lives were at stake. Myka stepped into a strong combined attack and parried through it to make contact with Wells' clavicle.
“Touch, Bering.”
The two women stepped back, returning to their starting positions. This time, at Chow's signal, Wells held back, foil in a defensive position, waiting for Myka to make her move. Myka knew better. This was a trap for certain. She grinned behind her mask at the thrill of an opponent that could match her. She worked through a series of feints, hoping for Wells to attack. And Wells did attack, with such speed and force that Myka was struggling to move her foil where it was needed in time. Myka stepped into Wells' space and parried a hit while she counter attacked. Wells parried masterfully and managed a quick, light hit just above Myka's heart. It was the first hit anyone had made on Myka since the Semi-Finals last year.
“Touch, Wells.” Chow called out, her voice carrying an impressed tone.
Myka cracked her neck. She stepped back into her starting position. A touch against her was unacceptable. She needed to step up her game. This Wells chick was going down.
Immediately out of the gate, Myka lunged. She put forth a brutal attack that sent Wells stumbling back to the edge of the mat. Her form was pristine. Her technique was flawless. She gave the fight every piece of herself she had. She just needed to wait for an opening. But Wells gave her none. Each step back was defended, each riposte was parried. No lines were left open, and Myka felt the stirrings of frustration.
Without her noticing, the tide had begun to turn. Wells was stepping forward now, performing a precise Prise de Fer, controlling Myka's blade with her own. Myka gave ground, and was given no opportunity to regain control of her foil. They had been sparring for much longer than a set usually took, and Myka was flagging quickly due to her activities the night before. She needed this to stop.
She parried her way back to the center of the mat and made her move, more out of desperation than planning. She leapt forward, foil out, hoping her speed was enough that her blade would hit before Wells'.
“Touch.” Chow blinked. “Wells. Set, Wells.”
Myka was nothing if not a gracious loser. She stepped forward and shook Wells' hand, saying “Great set. Welcome to the team.” Then she turned to Chow. “Hey, can I duck out? I have an early class.”
“Of course.” Chow barely spared Myka a glance. “Tuesday morning, okay?”
“Yup.” Myka, relieved and upset and frustrated and so damn tired, sped off to the showers to wash all those feelings down the drain.
Once safely tucked away in the locker room, Myka removed her face mask. She hadn't wanted people to see the disappointment and frustration on her face. 'Never let 'em see you sweat' had been her father's third most worn out phrase, and Myka took it as seriously as the others.
Myka twirled her lock and pulled heavily on the locker door. It didn't budge. She pulled again. It made a slight screeching noise as metal scraped metal. Myka used her whole body weight against the locker door and yanked hard. The door swung open with a terrible shriek, and Myka was deposited on the floor for her efforts.
She scrambled back to her feet and got her shower kit and towels out. She had actually sweated during that last match and couldn't skip the shower. Pity, because all the sports teams were holding their trials today and the locker room was packed.
Myka removed her gear and packed it carefully into her bag. It was pricey, and Myka couldn't afford to replace it. She pattered barefoot to the showers. Her stall was taken, and Myka stopped in mid step, trying to decide if she had time to wait or her regular stall, or if she could handle using a different one today. Of course there was no time. She took the next available shower stall and set up to speed through her routine.
“You slayed the Queen, H.G.!” Amanda, her co-captain laughed from outside the stall. “You should get a prize!”
“She did seem to take herself rather seriously.” A familiar voice stopped Myka in her tracks. That accent. She turned the water pressure down and listened in.
“Isn't that the understatement of the year.” Amanda trilled over the hiss of steam. The noise of bottles clattering and plastic on porcelain made Myka assume they were standing at the sinks. Doing their make-up, perhaps. “She takes everything too seriously.”
Myka stuck her tongue out in the direction of Amanda's voice. Amanda had been really friendly at first, but had actually only wanted to get closer to Pete. He and Amanda had dated for most of Sophomore year, until Pete had dumped her for Kelly. It had made fencing practice awkward for a while.
“Her form is magnificent.” H.G. complimented. “Where did she start?”
“I've no idea.” Amanda said. “We've only spoken a handful of times. Even though I dated her roommate for like, almost a year.”
“That is a bit strange.” H.G. pondered. “Perhaps she's shy.”
“I thought so too, at first.” Amanda replied. “But now I'm pretty sure she's just weird.”
“Hmm.” H.G. refrained from commenting.
“What kind of name is H.G. anyway?” Amanda asked. “Were your parents big science fiction nerds or something?”
“In a way, yes.” H.G. responded, her voice affectionate. “H.G. Wells, the author, was my great grandfather. My mother took it upon herself to name me after him, although I doubt she's read a word he's written.” H.G. smirked. Her mother was hardly known for her mind. Although she threw a magnificent party. “My father at least negotiated well enough to stop me being called Herbert. I managed to get away with Helena George, so I count my blessings.”
Myka stifled her shocked gasp by stuffing her facecloth into her mouth. Claudia's H.G. was the Wells that had beaten her was the Helena that had walked her home. It was an incredible coincidence.
“So, Herbert. Herb. Herbie.” Amanda laughed as she teased Helena. “What brings to you to the colonies?”
“I managed to get into some trouble after my third year, that I was unable to get out of.” Helena seemed affronted by the very idea. “And it was explained to me that it might be best if I continue my education elsewhere. I was happy to go, honestly. Cambridge and I had never really gotten on, and I was looking for a change.”
“How'd you end up here?” Amanda asked. “Why not Stanford, M.I.T., Yale or Harvard, or anywhere but here?”
“I didn't want to exchange one mistake for another.” Helena laughed. “And it's not so bad here. South Dakota has some lovely scenery, and USI is the highest ranked school in its field.” Helena seemed to pause, and then admitted, “Plus, my father knew someone on the board who could approve my late admission.”
“Who on earth could have that much power.” Amanda sounded exasperated. “Nobody gets in here on late admission.”
“It was Irene Frederic.” Helena answered. “She and my father worked together for a time before she took over Warehouse. In fact, it was Mrs. Frederic who invited me to apply to that science scholarship she funds.”
Myka's skin was pruning in the lukewarm water as revelation after revelation assaulted her mind. This Helena person had seduced Claudia with her intelligence, had Pete's ex-girlfriend eating out of her hand, had bested Myka herself at a sport that she had spent the majority of her life training for, all in less than forty-eight hours. On top of all of that, Helena was competing against her for the Frederic Scholarship. No, not competing; Helena had been invited. Myka had struggled. Myka had pushed. Myka had fought and cried and scrambled for a foothold, and Helena had been invited.
“So that's your plan.” Amanda sighed in relief. “I was wondering why you were so concerned with Myka.”
“Myka?” Helena asked, her voice sharp.
“You know. Bering.” Amanda replied. “I get it. You psyche Myka out and take the scholarship out from under her.” Amanda explained. It's what she would do. “For a while I thought you might be into her.” She trailed off with a tinkling laugh.
“Right.” Helena agreed thickly. Her voice turned vicious, calculating. “Because who in their right mind could be interested in someone like her, hmm?”
“Exactly.” Amanda exclaimed, happy to be understood. “You know, if you want help freaking her out... I can ask Chow to make you my co-captain this year? I'd much rather hang out with you than her.”
“I shall take that under advisement.” Helena's voice sounded cold. “Drat. I'm out of eyeliner. I suppose what I've done will have to be good enough.”
'Good enough is just not good enough, Myka'. Myka hears the whisper of her father's voice.
“You look great, don't sweat it.” Amanda replied cheerfully. “Catch you later!”
Myka leaned against the cold metal walls of the shower stall. The water had been off for a while. She was wrapped in her towel, shaking with cold and with rage. Myka had been played. Granted, nothing had happened because Myka was incapable of holding a conversation, but this Helena woman had approached her with the intent to sabotage her chance of getting the only thing she had ever worked for.
And Myka felt stupid, because just for a second she'd actually allowed herself to hope that Helena might be interested in getting to know her. She wept then; not loud, or even for very long. But more than she'd done since she was a child.
She quickly pulled herself together, wiping her face and eyes with her towel. She peeked out into the locker room to check that both Helena and Amanda were gone. When she was convinced that they were, she scuttled to her locker, teeth chattering.
She stuffed her things into her bag and hastily threw on her street clothes. Her phone beeped. Myka dug it out to check. It was her ten minute alarm, and she was at least twenty minutes away from Regent Hall.
“Myka!”
Myka kept her head down as she speed walked from the lecture hall. Tears were threatening and she would not allow it in public.
“Myka!” Helena caught up to her too easily. “That man is a tyrant. I'm sorry he tried to humiliate you.”
“Tried?” Myka's voice hit a new record in decibel level. “Tried? I have never in my life been more mortified than I was in that room today! And you! You waltz in after me, later than me, and nothing!”
“I must admit, I was expecting more than a glare to be thrown my way.” Helena admitted with a curious nod. “Perhaps he was distracted?
“Perhaps,” Myka sneered. “he is saving all that humiliation for me next week, because apparently you can just do whatever you want and get away with it.”
“Darling, I know you're upset,” Helena looked hurt and confused. “But... last night, I thought we left things in a much more positive, friendly place than I'm standing now. Have I done something to offend you?”
“Have you...” Myka blinked back at Helena, astounded at this woman's arrogance. Then it clicks. “Oh, you think I'm still that Myka. The stupid drunk girl you tried to take advantage of.”
“Advantage?” Helena frowned, becoming defensive. “I don't recall getting any advantage. I recall receiving a tantrum, and then a dismissal.”
“Oh, you're good. I'll give you that.” Myka glared; a full force, channeling-her-grandfather glare. “I almost let myself think you were sincere, but I know better now.” Myka geared up for her parting shot. “Stay away from me. Stay away from my friends. And stay away from my future.” Myka stormed off, leaving a speechless and gasping Helena in her wake.
How dare that woman come to her town and try to take away everything she's built. And such an underhanded tactic, pretending to want to be friends. Helena's despicable, Myka decided. Ruthless. Cruel.
Myka's never had a nemesis before. Her spine tingled with trepidation, and a bit of excitement. This may be the biggest challenge she's ever faced. How do you win against a superior opponent?
'Eyes on the prize, Myka.' Myka's face turned from upset to a cold look of determination. She may be awkward. She may be socially inept. But she was not a coward. She would fight and win, and she would leave this place, and Helena effing Wells, in a cloud of dust.
END