Again, I wished I could do something with my hair as well. Without that control, I wouldn't be able to grow it any longer than a few inches before it became unmanageable.
When I got dressed again, I put my weight room outfit in the basket with my other gym clothes. I had planned to take them home and wash them every day, but it was pretty clear that none of the team members bothered to do that any more often than weekly, if then. If they could stink, I would stink, too. If I was going to have to inhale their pheromones, they were going to have me up their noses, too. Chemical warfare wasn't off limits in this battle.
I was sorry that I hadn't had a chance to talk to Steve during our workout session. As I thought back on it, I hadn't heard much conversation at all. Either they had been reticent because I was there, or I had learned the answer to one of the oldest topics of conversation among girls — what did boys talk about when they were with their friends? The answer, as far as I could tell, was nothing. Boys could apparently just be with each other and say absolutely nothing for the longest time. It was very strange.
I reminded myself that I had decided to try to get to know Steve on his terms and in his world as much as possible. Changing the conditions would alter the experiment and fuck up the outcome.
It seemed odd to be right back in the gym again after English class, putting on another set of clothes to get sweaty in. It was too bad I didn't have gym right after lunch; then I could have stayed in my gym clothes and gone right from weightlifting to aerobic exercise.
As frustrating as it was to have to workout at a level so far below my abilities, it was still much better than no exercise at all. Enhanced or not, the muscles I had were all I had to work with and I needed them in the best possible shape. Any opportunity to work out was not something I wanted to pass up.
Today, the cool morning air had given way to a mild day and we again were taken down to the practice field for calisthenics and general running around. I caught up to Coach Simpson during the jog over to the field.
"Hey, Coach! I had my first martial arts lesson yesterday."
"Great, Sam. How did it go?"
"Better than I expected. I thought there would be a lot more mystical mumbo jumbo than there was. We spent most of the time working on practical fundamentals like punching and kicking."
"Sounds good. Who are you studying with?"
"Xaiolong Li. On River Street."
"Let me know how it goes for you. There are a few girls in my classes who could use some training in self-defense."
I had hoped she might give me the names of the girls she thought needed protection, but she must have considered that to be privileged information. Still, it was enlightening to know that there was a need. If I kept my eyes and ears open, I might learn of someone who needed me.
The lesson that there were no small crimes and no small criminals was fresh in my mind. Before, I might have ignored a case of abuse as beneath my notice. Now, I saw that it was better to nip some things in the bud before they became full-fledged crises. Domestic violence problems and relationships gone bad were areas where the cops could act only after things had gone too far. I had no such restrictions and I could even act in an official capacity if it came to it. I had already started carrying my badge around with me in my bag.
The badge was a heavy dose of reality. It was mostly an honorary thing, a courtesy given to me by Sheriff Foster, but it still meant that I carried the full force of the law with me. But it also acted as a conscience. While I carried it, I had to always consider if the amount of force I used was justifiable. There was a fine line between being a vigilante and being just another thug on the street.
After school let out, I looked around for Jim or Bud to walk me home. Bud was nowhere to be seen, but Jim came up to me looking apologetic.
"Hi, Sam. Listen, I'm sorry about not showing up at lunch like I said. Neeka and I got to talking and..."
"Hey, it's OK. Nothing happened worth seeing, anyway. Just a lot of ignoration."
"Ignoration?"
"Yeah, they mostly pretended I wasn't there."
"Oh, I doubt that. You're kind of hard to ignore."
"Gee, thanks! I think. But nobody talked to me. Not even Steve. Doug and I had a few words, but it was all business."
"Yeah? What did you expect?"
"Conversation? I know guys don't talk to girls much. Don't tell me that guys don't even talk to other guys?"
"Not much. And not with a girl in the room. They would be too busy flexing and showing off. You didn't see any of that?"
"In a weight room? Nothing but flexing and showing off going on. How would I know it was directed at me?"
"Good point. Did anyone seem to be pushing themselves really hard?"
"Well, yes. They all did, so I tried to act like I was, too. And Doug looked like he was really straining on his bench presses."
"There you go," Jim said. He looked over my shoulder and said, "And here I go. I think Steve wants to talk to you. See you at home, Sis."
Jim leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before taking off across the parking lot. I was smiling at the gesture when Steve walked up.
"Hey, Sam," he said. "What was that about?"