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“It’s your turn.”
The next hour flew past, as we read the rest of Act 1 and went through the CliffsNotes summary. I asked Carter questions, and he responded with thoughtful answers, making notes on his phone as we worked through it.
Before I knew it, there was a soft knock at the door, and Carter’s mum appeared. “Time’s up.” She smiled at me, before her attention turned to Carter. The smile dropped from her face. “I hope you behaved and listened to Raine. Your father and I expect at least a B on this assignment.”
Next to me, I felt Carter stiffen. I met her gaze head-on with a sudden need to defend him. “He’s going to do fine, Mrs. Blackthorne. He’s incredibly intelligent. There’s a lot of points he came up with that I didn’t even consider.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she said. “Come on, sweetie. I’ll show you out. Your aunt’s waiting downstairs.”
“Bye, Carter,” I murmured softly after pulling on my boots. He ignored me, his gaze fixed on his laptop screen.
With a sigh, I left the room.
17
Coming back to the park brought back all kinds of memories of Fright Night. Lena led me past the darkened café and large grassy area to the skatepark where tall floodlights illuminated a huge scooped-out bowl, with ramps and pipes surrounding it. The graffiti wall ran all along the back of the area, and my eyes were immediately drawn to the corner where Carter and I had painted our artwork, although I was too far away to see it.
“Welcome to the bowl.” Lena gestured with her arms out. “I come boarding down here when I can. But Sundays are fight night.”
“Fight night?” I stared down into the empty bowl. “Do you fight?”
Lena shook her head. “No. Not here. Only martial arts training.” A small smile appeared on her face. “The people who fight here can be a bit…crazy.”
“I didn’t even know something like this existed.”
“It’s an open secret. I think most people know about it, but we don’t really talk about it. Don’t want to attract the interest of the wrong people, if you know what I mean.”
“That makes sense.” Coming to a stop in front of the large bowl, I turned to her. “So, what are we doing, anyway?”
She smiled, tugging me to sit on the rim of the bowl, our legs dangling over the side. “We wait for everyone else to show, then you’re going to see some of the fights in action.”
Kicking at the side of the bowl with the heel of my trainers, I eyed her suspiciously. “And how exactly is this supposed to make me more confident?”
“You’re way out of your comfort zone, right?”
“Yep.” Leaning back on my elbows, I stared around me. “I feel like that’s happening more and more lately. Ever since I met you.”
She laughed, pleased. “That’s the first, and most important reason. I’m pushing you to do things because I know you have it in you, Raine. You have that confidence deep down inside you. And the more you do things that make you uncomfortable, the more confident you’ll feel.” She paused. “At least, that’s the theory.”
“Okay…” I glanced at her. “So pushing me out of my comfort zone was the first reason. What’s the second?”
“Have you ever seen a real fight in action? Some of these guys are hot. And watching them fight? Yeah, I think you’re gonna love it. And you might even pick up some tips.”
“Tips on finding a hot guy?”
“No. Fighting back.”
“Oh.” We fell silent as the area began to fill, crowds milling around and people sitting all around the edge of the bowl like we were. Suppressing my discomfort, I decided to question Lena in an effort to take my mind off the increasing numbers of people surrounding us.
“Do they do this for money?” I tried to think back over the little I knew about fights—which was pretty much zero.
“No. Mostly for bragging rights, or to settle a grudge, or just because they’re psychos who like to fight.”
I laughed. “Psychos, hey? So which of the fighters do you have your eye on?”
Her expression became distant. “None of them.” I sensed there was more to it, but I didn’t push. I was quickly learning that while she was friendly and open in certain areas, there were parts of her she kept locked up so tightly, that I knew I’d never be able to penetrate them. Not unless she chose to share those parts with me. “Hey, look. The first fight is about to start.”
I watched as two guys in sweatpants and dark T-shirts slid down the sides of the bowl and met at the bottom, then stood waiting. After a moment, a guy with a whistle appeared at the top, and the crowd fell silent as he introduced them.
