Belle moves into a new module with her training that includes asking me a lot more questions about how I feel. It coincides with the adjustment with my therapy, so I just figure it’s Marcella being cautious. The questions part anyway, I like that she’s stepped up her cooking and that she’s teaching me some basics as she talks through her lessons while she cooks. I also have moved into a new module, aka training routine. It’s a three week cycle of weight lifting focused on free weights and raising the numbers on those weights as quickly as possible. This is apparently for training the mass that I’m building to do better? I don’t know the science behind it, save that the free weights force me to use more muscles together than the machines did.
I’m still eating constantly, with my backpack half full of snacks at all times. I’m getting more frustrated with just studying, so I’ve taken to hitting the books on my rest days while doing low intensity cardio on the stationary bike or elliptical. Marcella thinks that this ‘need to move’ may be tied to the increased aggression and impatience that they’ve been seeing after my hormone adjustment. My mentor and Bell are being very patient with me, and before I know it, I’ve been living with Bell and next to Marcella for eight months.
“Talking shop at the dinner table now are we?” I snicker at Marcella across the table from me.
“What else is there to talk about, your current job is to train. Same with Bell. I’ve already given her every accolade imaginable about this mind-blowing chicken piccata, and I need to say something to break up the cutsey-eye bullshit you to have going on.”
“You could always eat with your buddies downstairs and fully avoid any ‘cutesy-bullshit’.”
“And miss out on the only benefit of knowing you? Hells no.”
We devolve into bickering and I catch Bell giggling at our argument. When she stands to clean up our plates, we stand to help her, continuing to bicker while cleaning up the kitchen.
“Since you two are too busy arguing, I guess I’ll have desert by myself.”
“Desert?” Marcella asks.
“I’ll be good.” I plead. I know how good her desserts have gotten.
She snorts at that, “I’m not asking for a miracle, Kimber, just less arguing.”
Rude, but true. I zip up my lips and get out three little plates and offer them in hope. She smiles kindly at me and pulls a cute little cake out of the fridge. With a small piece for each of us, she hands us forks to eat at the bartop. I see little pieces of cake buried in the firm white structure dusted with chocolate shavings. The white part is thick, sweet and creamy while the cake is wet tasting of coffee and a vibrant nose of sweet alcohol.
“Holy shit Bell. Whomever gave you this gift for cooking should be prayed to.” I say.
“I would consider continuing to live with Kimber if you came with her.”
That got both me and Bell laughing while we finished off the decadent treat. Our chef makes to clean up again, but I pat her hand and tell her no. “Make yourself a tea, because I’m rubbish at it, and I’ll draw you a bath?”
She ducks her head as her cheeks redden, but nods anyway. I set to washing the dishes and setting them out to dry as Bell putters with her tea making. She uses a thermometer and a scale to make it the way she likes it, and every time I’ve tried, it hasn’t been quite right. I half expect she fusses about it because she thinks it’s her job or something. I’ve been ordering bath salts for her on occasion and it’s by far the gesture she’s appreciated the most, besides snuggling for a movie that is.
I add the packet to the tub as it fills and sit on the edge as I contemplate why either of us insist on these types of things. Emotions have been odd these last five months, while they have been easier to express, they have also been all over the place for me. While I can tell sometimes when Bell is tired of my shit, mostly she’s even as the consistency of that creamy white topping—nearly as sweet too. I’m not dumb, I know Bell likes me, but sometimes I can tell when she’s training on me, and since she told me about the direction of her training, it triggers me when I notice it.
That kind of admission introduced so much doubt in my mind it drove me to some tactical mistakes in the gym that I’ve been paying for ever since. Cheap shots in the ring are a big no go, doesn’t matter how pissed off you get. The larger boys have stopped pulling their punches and many more of my matches are ending in knockout instead of either side tiring. The only thing Marcella said publicly was to me: “Are you learning from this?” I nodded and nothing changed afterward. I assume it’s a sleep on the bed you made kind of situation.
I’ve been learning how to identify the hits I can’t take, and spending my effort to avoid those and try to punish if I can. It now takes longer to knock me out. Getting better at fighting doesn’t make me any better at managing my anger though, just focuses it. I still don’t like being manipulated, but I don’t suppose anyone does.
I get up and walk out to tell Bell now that the tub is full to see her chatting with Marcella. I feel a little twinge seeing them being so chummy, but I take a deep breath, put a hand on Bell’s lower back and kiss her head while telling her the bath is ready. She smiles wide, thanks me with a squeeze to my side meats and takes her tea into the other room. As soon as the door to the bathroom shuts, my mentor asks.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“How serious is this thing between you two? That was pretty possessive, especially for you?”
“I was just thinking about that. I like the idea and the feeling of what we’re doing, but something in my head wonders what portion is because of her training. I don’t know how much of the casual manipulation is just being in a relationship, and another part of me thinks that I’m fucking fifteen and shouldn’t need to think hard about emotions.” She smirked at that and lets me continue. “Then, just now a part of me didn’t like the idea of you two being so chummy. But you’re like my surly big sister, and my mentor, why would I react that way?”
“First off, everyone has thoughts like these. Something to keep in mind, but not to use as an excuse, is that we are experimenting with you on preparing for a specific result with finnicky chemicals in your body. However, unless you want to significantly alter your training goals, this is your reality for a few years. There is hope that when you initialize that the System can help you regulate. We have a method that is more of a gamble that will cause changes, but there’s no guarantee the changes will be in the direction we want.”
“What? Why would I ever gamble with my body like that?”
She shrugs, “In case your physical growth as you reach puberty isn’t what you want? I don’t know. It’s one of the things that you’re allowed to say no to if the big bosses offer it. The fact that it’s on the table as an option is a really big deal, but you and Bell are developing at a rate that makes these investments seem worth it. Part of the reason I even asked you how serious you two are, is that she turns 14 next month. There will be a push to get her to level three to pick up a track, but if the skills she initializes with aren’t leaning in the right direction, the Organization’s investment in Bell will lessen. If her Track doesn’t come through with desirable options, she will be transferred to a different program.”
“Let me guess, they filled you in on all this to prevent me from going ape shit if I was surprised by this.”
“That and I can tell you’re not being as expressive as you could be, and now that I hear that you resent the manipulations, I will tell you that limiting your responses may limit how she perceives her efforts, and may affect her results.”
“So what am I supposed to do, ignore how I feel?!” why am I yelling?
“No, and watch your tone. I am asking you to focus on acting on how her actions make you feel, and not focusing on the motivations. Sure, she may just be in love with you, but somewhere in that hormone addled brain, you’re convinced that a part of that is just her training. To that, I would say, so what? So what if her training makes her better at making you happy? It doesn't change the fact that she clearly enjoys making you happy.”
“What if that is just part of her training too?”
She snorts at that, “I take it back, you are stupid. She’s a young teenage girl and not that good an actor. Neither of you can lie worth a damn and you both have expressive faces.”
Shit. I have noticed that before: Bell can’t lie at all. I wipe my hands forcefully down my face in frustration. “Ugh, how can I stop being stupid.”
“You can’t. None of us can. We just learn enough to stop feeling dumb all of the time.” She taps on her invisible system for a few seconds. “You have the detriment of being a teen so you’re acting dumb all of the time while simultaneously thinking you know everything.”
“Really helpful that. Eleven of ten mentor rating.” The banter does lighten my mood though.
“I linked you some app recommendations for your phone.” She stands and stretches. “With that, I have some work to do and you have rest to get to. We’re doing max sets this week.”
Damnit, I have a feeling that I’m going to be sore for another month.
***
“Tell me that the Novarro kid will be your replacement in ten years.”
“I could, Medvedev, but I don’t see her taking to silent infiltration the way I do. I think she’ll prove to be a multi-tool more than a scalpel. There might be a skill that she could be the best at, but all I’ve found is that she’s pretty good at everything. She understands why people act, she’s developing to be a physical specimen, and she’s an intuitive fighter. Miss Gooding is helping her process and identify emotions and her squabble with Salazar is teaching her patience and humility. All of this will make her a great enforcer, but while she could do the job, she’d be a mediocre specialist from what I’ve seen.”
The man I have fought along-side since the onset of the system sighs and slumps into his plush chair. “This is not what I hoped for. You know this push for the algorithm was designed to find me specialists that could help us branch out and grow by becoming underbosses in other locations. We need to be in Reno and Boise in the next ten years, Fontaine or stability will start to become our enemy.”
“I don’t disagree with your goal, Boss. I disagree with the implementation. You have an eye for talent, but you were only ever a decent protector, you’re not very pretty, nor are you comfortable to be around. But you don’t have to be because you know a lot about all of the roles and are good enough to get your point across and you know enough to identify others that can do the specifics better than you. That is the boss’ job in my eyes, so if you want this algorithm thing to work, you need to find a multi-tool as well as finding those specialists. And if that doesn’t work, she could be the kind of infiltrator that runs things as a deputy to some arrogant, incompetent asshole.”
“Now that, Miss Fontaine, is the kind of idea I need from my lieutenants. A plant with some grit, a minion in name only, and a good way to get power in my pocket in a new area with low to moderate investment. If you can build me such a person, I’ll keep my grumbling to a minimum when you chose to retire.”
I laugh at that, I know for a fact he can’t reign in his grumbling. “Fat chance, but I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, can we get a female nurse to do checkups on Kimber? I’m tired of listening to Bennet whine about protecting Salazar, and I think it’s weighing on Kimber to be treated like a threat for multiple hours.”
“Can she stop being a threat for those hours?”
“I wouldn’t count on it, especially if she ever finds out he’s an actual pervert and not just suspects he is one.”
He sighs again, but I know I got him.
“Yes, fine. I’ll ask Danielle if she has any friends that will do it. If she has to come in herself, you owe me a favor.”
“Gladly. Danielle is a treat.” I beam at the sound of her name as it slides from my lips. His daughter is a snack and I would adore another chance to sweet talk that woman. Medvedev sighs again and I can’t keep my laugh inside as he shoos me away.