Intermix Nation

Nazirah does have work to do.

Late that night, Nazirah puts on blacksweatpants. She laces up her old te

On Riva’s face.

There are traces of her old self, but theyare concealed by new stitches and bruises.

Quietly, Nazirah exits her room and tiptoesdownstairs. She pauses, listening to the raucous sounds coming fromthe boys’ floor. She smiles a little, wishing she could join thefun.

There will be time for that later.

Reaching the bottom of the stairwell,Nazirah pulls open the door to the basement. She walks withdetermination down the hallway. Eventually, she turns into a roomshe has been in only once before, during the brief tour Nikolausgave her first week here.

The workout room is old, musty, and reeks ofsweat, but will suit Nazirah’s purpose just fine. There are thedummy she knows Cato likes to practice knife throwing on, theweights Taj has told her about, and even the mats that Lumi usesfor stretching. Her friends have all made a concentrated effort toimprove their combat skills. Now it’s Nazirah’s turn to catchup.

If she could find a way to actually hitsomething.

Nazirah walks past a rack of boxing glovesand some throwing knives. She sits down at a bench. She ties hersneakers and then reties them. No one else is here, because really,who would want to train on a Saturday night?

But solitude is exactly what Nazirah hasbeen hoping for. She briefly considered asking Cato to help hertrain – she knows he would have eagerly volunteered. But this isone fear Nazirah must face alone.

“Animals.”

Nazirah wrinkles her nose at the sweaty ragsand towels piled around her. She isn’t the tidiest person, butreally, this is ridiculous. Nazirah has no idea how Lumi even walksthrough the door, the princess that she is.

Satisfied she won’t fall out of her shoes,Nazirah steps over a rag pile and stands under a small window highin the wall. She struggles with the latch, jumping a little andeventually reaching it on her tiptoes. Nazirah cracks the windowopen, hoping for wind or rain or hurricane to wash the rancid odorsaway.

Nazirah spots some protection tape lying ona nearby bench. She picks it up, attempts to tape her fingers likeCato has done for her countless times in class. Nazirah holds upone complete hand and scrutinizes it. It looks more like the handof a mummy than anything else, but it will have to do.

Taping the other hand, Nazirah hums anEridian melody. It’s off-beat and out of tune, but it fills thesilence.

Nazirah does what she thinks is somepreliminary stretching, trying to drag out warming up for as longas possible. Rolling her shoulders, Nazirah decides she’s as readyas she’s going to get.

Then the clapping starts, and her good moodflies right out the open window.

Adamek leans against the punching bag in thefar corner of the room. He wears a white wife-beater thatprominently displays both of his black tattoo sleeves in theirentirety. His left shoulder is still bandaged. His face is slightlyflushed from working out and a pair of boxing gloves hangs from hisneck.

“That was quite the little show,” hesays.

“I didn’t realize I had an audience.”

“I didn’t realize Grum was teaching recruitshow to bandage opponents to death,” he shoots back. “It doesn’tseem very efficient.”

Nazirah flushes in anger, looking at heroverly taped hands. Even from here she can see that his are donethe right way. Her first instinct is to run and her eyes dart tothe door. But she is no coward! Where is the Nazirah Nation whojumped off the cliffs of Rafu? Where is the Nazirah Nation whotried to beat up bullies twice her size? Where is that girl, whowas once so fearless, and is now so scared and lost? And allbecause of this boy, who is probably expecting her to runanyway.

Nazirah is tired of ru

“Well, you would know, wouldn’t you?” shesays. She meets his gaze evenly, cocking her head.

Adamek’s eyes darken. Two could play thisgame. “Yes, I would,” he says.

Adamek steps away from thepunching bag, giving her full access to it. Nazirah straightens hershoulders in defiance and cautiously approaches it, keeping an eyeon him the entire time. They haven’t been alone since the day shemet him in the prison. She feels out of sorts in his presence,apart from the obvious reasons. He is always justthere, justwatching. Like he’strying to figure out what makes her tick; like she’s his petproject.

Nazirah stands before the punching bag. Shebreathes deeply, zoning Adamek out, trying to remember the reasonshe came here in the first place. She can’t back down now. Shecan’t let Niko down. She has to figure out how to fight withoutfreezing up. She has to figure out how to cha

Hit it. Hit it. Hit it.

Her muscles lock. She sighsin frustration, resting her head against the bag and closing hereyes. She clenches her jaw, willing the images of Riva and Kasimiraway. She opens her eyes, breathing hard. It’s just a bag, she thinks.It’s just a bag.

But suddenly, it’s not just a bag anymore.Nazirah imagines that it’s something entirely different … someoneentirely different.

Just hitit.

And she does.

Her fist slams into the bag with a dullthud. It hurts her wrist and the bag barely moves an inch, butNazirah wants to cry with joy. She hits it again, harder this time– and again and again. She feels a hand firmly grip her back,correcting her posture. And another, repositioning her arm. Nazirahwhirls around, her heart pounding out of its ribcage.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

Adamek is only a foot away. The gloves thatwere hanging around his neck are gone. He stares at the stitchesabove her eyebrow and at her bruised face. “I think you could use afew pointers,” he says.

“I don’t need your help!”

“I beg to differ,” he says. “The first rule,Nation, is to always know your enemy.”

“Oh, believe me, Morgen,” she says, laughingcoldly, “that is not my problem.”

“So why have you been ballroom dancing withthis bag for the past five minutes, when you know I’m standingright behind you?”

“You admit you’re my enemy?”

He shrugs. “You certainly seem to thinkso.”

“Yes, I certainly do!”

“You’re so tense, Nation.”

“Leave me alone.”

Adamek looks irate. He takes a determinedstep forward. Nazirah steps backward, past the bag, trying to putmore space between them. “Why won’t you fight?” he asks.

Nazirah wasn’t expecting that. And shedoesn’t want to go there. She takes another step backward, but hematches her.

“Why won’t you fight?” he asks again, moreharshly. He is quickly becoming unhinged and Nazirah thinks sheshould have left when she had the chance. She takes another stepbackward, her back hitting the wall. There’s nowhere left toretreat. Adamek is just a few inches away now, eyes burning inanger. “Why won’t you fight?” he shouts. He slams his fists intothe wall on both sides of her. She flinches, can see it written allover his face. He already knows why.

“Go away!” she yells.

“Fight back!” Adamek shoves her shouldersinto the wall, lifting Nazirah up so he can look her in the eyes.Her feet dangle uselessly a foot off the ground. She strugglesagainst him and he laughs. “You’re going to have to do a lot betterthan that, princess.”

Nazirah slaps him with her left hand. Adamekgrowls, releases her shoulder and catching her hand in his. Hepushes her entire arm back against the wall and Nazirah goes toslap him with her right hand. He anticipates the move this time,catching that one as well.

Nazirah seethes. She attempts to kneeAdamek’s groin, but he presses his body up against hers, pi