his outrage.
“Hey, Vent, who’d you choke out?” Pike said.
“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Oh, come on, that’s when we thought you got your rear end handed to you. Spill it.”
“Ask Earnest. I’m starving,” Venture said. And he gave his full attention to his lunch.
But the boys got no satisfaction from their trainer either. Earnest left without bothering to fill a plate. He muttered at them all, “I’ll see you in training.” To Venture he added dismally, “Beamer says you’re back with these guys this afternoon.”
Venture sat on the changing room bench after class, struggling to pull off his dirty shirt with his throbbing hands. Normally, he would have asked Earnest for help. Normally, Earnest wouldn’t have waited for him to ask; he would’ve grabbed it himself and peeled it off. Instead the trainer stood at the other end of the bench, shoving his own dirty clothes into his bag, and letting Venture suffer.
Finally Earnest spoke. “This isn’t right. I’m your trainer. I need to know what’s going on. Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”
Venture sighed. Earnest had always been more than fair to him, had always made the effort to push the boys to do their best, whether Beamer noticed it or not. He took pride in doing a good job, even though it wasn’t the job he really wanted. He deserved better than this.
“He wants me to join the elites and train to be a prize fighter.”
“So what’s the problem?” Realization spread across Earnest’s face. “Wait. Don’t tell me you said no.”
Venture looked at his feet.
“You didn’t, Vent. Tell me you didn’t.”
“I’m sorry. I told him I can’t do it.”
“Obviously he thinks you can. Just talk to him. We’ll do it together. Tell him you were just nervous—”
“It’s not that I don’t think I’m good enough.”
“What’s the matter with you, then?”
“I can’t be a prize fighter. I can’t tell you why, just like I couldn’t tell Beamer why. I’m sorry. I really am. But that’s just the way it is.”
Earnest picked up his things. His dark eyes narrowed and gleamed through his black lashes. He twisted a dirty towel in his hands, then turned his back. He stopped mid-step, and flung, over his shoulder, a look as dirty as the towel, then the towel itself, at Venture.
“What a waste!”
Venture walked home with his boots slung around his neck by the straps, his bag over his shoulder. He was still too hot to care about the rocks under his bare feet. Once he stopped moving, once he rested, his whole body would begin to ache. It was worth the pain to beat those guys, but Beamer was furious with him, and now Earnest, too, was disgusted by the “waste.”
Am I a waste? He wanted Jade, wanted to ask her, wanted to tell her everything.
The next morning, Venture’s whole body hurt so bad that he just lay there in bed, trying to convince himself he had to move, that once he moved, he’d feel better.
“Vent!” Grace said. “You’re going to miss breakfast again!”
“Coming!”
He got up and slowly made his aching, bruised legs carry him to the table.
Grace brushed her mass of dark curls out of her face with one hand and tried to pry Tory off her hip with the other. “Good. You’re up. Take her for me for a minute, will you, please?”
Venture took the baby, wincing and sucking in his breath. His hands were still bad. Really bad. And as little as she was, his arms protested painfully against bearing Tory’s weight.
“What’s the matter?”
“Just a little sore. Don’t say anything to Justice.”
She frowned at him skeptically as she slid his plate onto the table and took Tory back. “Lucky for you, he left just a minute ago.”
The baby wailed and lunged for Venture. “Gotta eat,” he said. “Be good, Tory.”
Grace tried to shush her, then gave up and set her down on the rug and took her seat across from Venture. “She’s awful today,” she said with
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