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Adrian, on the other hand, seemed sincere.
He stepped in next to me and took his turn at the bag. His punches were hard and confident, and he looked like he was putting in barely any effort, but he must have been, because the bag swayed from the impact.
“How do you do that?” I marveled. “Make the bag swing like that, I mean.”
“It’s all in your legs and core,” he said. “Here, let me show you.”
His hands felt bulky in the gloves as he took my shoulders and repositioned me so I had my left foot in front of my right, bending my knees slightly.
“Now brace your core,” he said, “and drive your back foot into the ground as you swing.”
I did as he told me, clenching my stomach muscles as I put all my weight into my punch.
“Very good,” he said.
My ponytail swung over my shoulder as I kept punching and I ignored the hair that clung to my sweaty face.
After a few minutes, my anger wore off, and I slowed down.
“Feel better?” Adrian asked.
“Much,” I panted, as I bent over, sucking in air. “Where’d you learn to box like that?”
“My brothers,” Adrian said, and to my surprise, didn’t elaborate. Instead, he looked thoughtful and pulled off his gloves. “You’re strong, but I don’t believe in solving problems with violence. How about I teach you some self-defense techniques?”
14
EMMA
When Adrian saidself-defense, I expected that he was going to teach me karate. But instead, he dragged a foam box out on the rubber floor and I sat on it while he paced back and forth.
“Knowing how to fight someone off is useful,” he said, “but if you can avoid danger in the first place, you’ll be in a much better position.”
He picked up the headphones I’d been using to listen to music.
“Rule one: always be aware of your surroundings. That means being able to see and hear and trust your intuition. In other words: no headphones. If you feel like you’re in a dangerous situation, get out.”
I wondered if I should have been taking notes, but I didn’t have a notepad with me, and he looked so earnest that I nodded. The memory of my mad scramble out my bedroom window came back to me. I did the right thing by getting away as quickly as I could…good.
“Think about the clothes you’re wearing,” he said, gesturing at my outfit. “I’m not talking about whether you’re showing skin or not — that makes no difference.”
Nathan would disagree, I thought, as I remembered how I opened my wardrobe door one day to find half my clothes missing. He’d sorted through them for me, he’d said later when I asked him, like he was doing me a favor by donating anything low-cut to charity.
“What you want to wear is something you can move in,” Adrian continued. “An outfit you canrun awayin. This,” he said, pointing to my shoes, “is perfect. You can sprint and nothing’s going to limit your movement.”
I looked down at my cotton top, lycra pants, and neon pink sneakers. Maybe I couldn’t outrun Nathan, but Adrian was right — I’d have a much better chance wearing this than if I was wearing pumps.
“Avoid high heels,” Adrian said, ticking off a list on his fingers, “tight skirts and anything that’s going to make it hard to run or fight. And your hair…”
He walked around the box to stand behind me and placed his hand on my shoulder. I fidgeted, wanting to look back, but I resisted the urge.
“Pretend I just grabbed you,” he said. “Now run away.”
I obeyed, lurching forward. But as I lifted my butt off the box, Adrian seized my ponytail, and I came to a painful halt.
“Don’t tie it back like this,” he instructed. “It gives them something to hold. Braid it or put it in a bun instead.”
He released his grip on my hair and I rubbed the back of my scalp. It didn’t really hurt beyond the initial tug, but he still could have given me a heads up.
