Angels Wear Blue Jumpsuits

Part 3

The week that followed was probably one of the more awkward in my life.

Kody didn't even glance my way if he passed me in the hall. He actually paid attention in German now and ended up with better grades than I did. A girl I knew ended up dating him a few weeks later. I could've warned her what she was in for, but sometimes people need to learn their lesson by actually making the mistake. Eventually, he broke up with her for reasons unknown. At the end of the year, he returned to Scotland and actually listened to me– he never spoke to me again.

Since Tammie learned of Kody and I breaking up, she stopped talking about her boyfriend. She never had one, anyway. She merely kissed a guy at a party, and when you're sixteen, that basically meant marriage.

God, we took things way too fucking seriously back then.

And then there was you.

We passed each other on the way to classes often, spotting the other across the courtyard at lunch, but all I could muster was a quick purse of my lips, a tentative smile and the immediate breaking of eye contact. As the days went by, I began to feel a confused nature of anger towards you. It kept me up at night. That chaos inside me when I saw you with that guy– I still couldn't figure it out. I skipped gaming club that week and focused more on my martial arts.

My teacher, Cairo, a short Brazilian man with an even shorter temper, started to push me harder. I thought it was because I was lacking, until he came to me one evening to say "you're not the best student here, Isla, but you have the most potential to be. Do better. Focus."

But how could I, possibly?

All I could see as my fists met the punchbag was your face and I still hold you personally accountable for the oncoming nicotine addiction. I had been a 'casual smoker' until I promoted myself to full-time that week. Some people may ask: how the fuck did a sixteen-year-old have such ease-of-access to cigarettes? Did she steal them from her mother? Is sixteen the legal age to purchase them in her country?

No.

It's eighteen.

But because Murray (the owner of the local convenience store) would rather have more cash in the register than less, he 'forgot' to ask the high school students for I.D. when purchasing cigarettes.

Thanks, Murray. Legend.

Cairo didn't share the same opinion, though.

"You saw it coming, Isla!" he shouts and I slacken my posture during training. "Are you blind?!"

"No..."

"Could've fooled me," he rumbles. "Fists up." I obey. "Again."

And again, I fail to land the blow he wants me to. I felt God in the room at that moment. Because only a force like that could have stopped Cairo from throwing me across the room. Instead, he took a deep breath and said "get some fresh air."

I loosen the bandages from my fists and head out the back door, not before stopping at my backpack for my cigarettes and lighter. It isn't long before Cairo smells the smoke and he's stomping outside to grab the entire pack from me. He rips them up, one by one into the trash.

"What the fuck, dude?! That's destruction of private property, you can't do that!"

"Yes, I can," he says as he dusts off the dried leaves from his hands. "I'm your teacher. My purpose is to make sure you're performing at your peak– and all you've done tonight is waste my time."

I bow my head as he continues.

"Your body is compromised because you're poisoning it with these cancer sticks. How can you expect to last a full round in a tournament if your lungs are rotting slabs of meat in your chest?!"