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“I know,” I said. “I mean...” Except I didn’t know how else to explain it. What happened if there was a night when Kota or anyone else couldn’t spend the night and I got a surprise visit from Mr. McCoy? I knew I was just throwing out guesses. Before it had been a possibility, but he was still a school figurehead and didn’t really know where I lived, or at least I thought I could believe that.
Now Mr. McCoy wanted something from me, and he’d been on my street. I felt that little bubble of safety had burst.
Mr. Blackbourne’s eyes darkened slightly. “Miss Sorenson, I’ve told you not to worry about it.”
“Sorry,” I said softly.
The corner of his mouth tilted down. He stepped back, planting my phone and his on top of the piano. He unbuttoned his suit jacket, shedding it and folding it over the top of the piano bench. He started undoing his red tie.
“What are we doing?” I asked, stunned to witness him undressing.
He hooked fingers into the knot of his tie and wedged it open until he could slide it off. “You are going to show me what Kota taught you this weekend.”
My cheeks heated. “Here?” I bit back the question that tickled my lips: With him?
Mr. Blackbourne nodded his head sharply. He unbuttoned the cuff sleeves of his shirt and rolled them up toward his elbows. “The way to build confidence in cases like this is knowing how to handle yourself in any situation.” He stepped forward, planting his hands on his hips. “If I were Mr. McCoy, what’s your first action?”
I touched the base of my throat with my fingertips. “To run.”
“Correct. Where?”
“What do you mean?”
“If you’re in school, where would you run to?”
“I ... suppose to your office.”
He nodded again. “If you’re close to it, you’re welcome to use it. If you know where I am or anyone else on my team should be, you need to find them. If neither are convenient, running out into the open within a crowd is your third option. Don’t corner yourself, and don’t run blindly.” He circled me and positioned himself with his hands outstretched. “And if I were Mr. McCoy and I were to come after you, what do you do?”
I wavered, trying to still my shaking. I gingerly lifted my hands. This was completely wrong. I couldn’t swing at Mr. Blackbourne.
“You’re not going to hurt me,” he said. “If Mr. McCoy won’t let you escape, what’s your first move?”
I made fists and swung slowly, like I’d done with Kota. I aimed for his stomach though.
Mr. Blackbourne stood by until my fist made contact with his stomach. Even with using my knuckles, I felt a hardened body, much like the others. None of the Academy guys were lazy. “I understand your hesitation,” he said, “but if you think you feel uneasy striking at me, you’ll feel doubly so when it’s the real thing. It’s going to be incredibly uncomfortable. You’re taught to respect superiors, and Mr. McCoy is not only an adult, he’s supposed to be someone in charge of you, your vice principal. He’s violated that trust. We need to break your hesitation.”
My body rattled through my core. “What if...”
Mr. Blackbourne’s hand shot out, capturing my chin. The move was so sudden that once he held me between his fingers, I jerked my head back. He held on, his steel eyes bearing down on me. “I’m not a psychic, Miss Sorenson. If there’s one thing the Academy tries to break from students, it’s to not to play ‘what if’ games.”
I held my breath, wanting to blink and look away but fearing to do so. I wanted to appear brave, even though I felt tiny and wanted to hide. “I’ll try to be better,” I said.
“You will be better,” he said, exuding the confidence I wish I could have believed was inside of me. His fingers softened against my chin, but didn’t release me. “You’ll get there. I promise, it’ll happen. You’ll feel more secure with time. You don’t have to hide behind us. You’ll stand next to us.”
The look in his eyes told me this was more than just about Mr. McCoy. This was part of his promise, their promise, to bring me into this group they’d created.
“Now,” he said. “When you face off with Mr. McCoy, if it ever does come to that, your job is to run, and if you can’t run, you will...” He paused with intention, his eyes telling me to finish.
“I’ll incapacitate him until I can run.”
“Which means?” he asked.
“Hitting him in the stomach or neck, or whatever is needed.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “And?”
I stopped. I wasn’t sure what he was asking. “And when he’s down, run away?”
“You’re not wrong,” he said, “but if you need to, you should call for help. Scream if necessary.”
“Scream?”
He nodded, releasing my chin to position his hands on his hips. “If you’re in a situation like this, hopefully you aren’t alone, but if you are, you should draw as much attention as possible. More than likely he’ll retreat if someone’s witnessing.” He started pacing around me. I stood still, facing the piano, watching him from my peripheral vision. “So if he’s chasing you or trying to keep you in place, you’ll...”
“Scream and try to run.”
“Correct. Go ahead and scream.”
I swallowed. “Now?”
“Learn to trust me, Miss Sorenson,” he said.
Trust. I opened my mouth, feeling ridiculous. “Help,” I said, although weakly. The potential echo in a music room made me nervous.
“Louder,” Mr. Blackbourne said.
I repeated myself, although a few notches louder than my normal speaking voice.
“You can do better than that,” he said. “Pretend you’re trying to get Kota to hear you. He’s on the second floor. Try to call out to him.”
I sighed, and then took in another deep breath. Maybe if I did it quickly, he’d move on to something else. I didn’t want to draw any more attention today from anyone else. I’d had enough of that already.
I parted my lips, summoned up the nerve, and did my best to cry out for help.
My throat seized on the first syllable. I coughed.
“Keep going,” he said.
I tried again, but my throat closed in the moment I got louder than a mild shout. I dropped my fingers onto my throat, opened my mouth wide and simply tried to get a vowel out between my lips in a screech.
But sounds scratched around my throat, and after only a couple of squeaks, my voice box refused to work.
I blinked in surprise. I tried again, but nothing changed. I looked at Mr. Blackbourne in a panic. I couldn’t shout? Or scream?
Mr. Blackbourne stepped around, motioning with his fingers. “Open your mouth,” he said.
I parted my lips, holding my mouth open.
He gazed into my throat. “Try again,” he said, still staring. “Do a range. Start from your normal speaking voice and go up in volume.
I did, but to the same result. At a volume just around shouting range, my voice started to crack. By screaming, there was no sound at all.
“Try a higher pitch.”
I did as he asked. My voice started to crack the moment I got over a loud talking volume. I couldn’t even manage to shout at that pitch.
“Try lower.”
I did, a little better, but my shouts and screams were ineffective.
Mr. Blackbourne frowned, shaking his head. “I’m sorry,” he said in a quiet voice.
My eyes went wide. “Sorry?” I said, in a quieter voice.
“It must have been the vinegar and lemon,” he said. He nudged his glasses higher with a forefinger. “Your vocal cords are straining, but there might be some longstanding damage."
“I can’t scream,” I said.
The corner of his mouth lowered. “Miss Sorenson, I don’t want to make a diagnosis just yet, but it may be that your voice needs more healing before it’s fully recovered that ability.”
I couldn’t remember the last time I did shout or scream. I got a little loude
r at times, but I hadn’t had to scream. And then I remembered the times I yelled with the boys and it came out as a screech. I'd thought at the time it was just my over excitement cutting off my voice. I wasn’t the type to scream much anyway. Now it was supposed to be a way to defend myself, and it was something so simple, and it wasn’t hurting anyone or hitting someone, and I couldn’t do it. “What do I do?”
Mr. Blackbourne’s eyes started working, darting back and forth as he gazed at my face, as if trying to calculate an answer. “The important thing right now is that we know. If we can, we’ll fix it.” I started to part my lips, but his fingers shot out, shutting down the questions. “And if we can’t, we’ll figure out another solution.”
But the answer was clear to me. My voice was broken.
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