Sweat fell like waterfalls off Iona’s face. Her blonde hair stuck to her face. Splotches of yellow sweat spread all through her tank top. Her eyes only looked forward. The sound of punches hitting the bag sounded like bullets from a pea-shooter. 1,2, 1, 2, 1, 2, 3, 4.
She finished and fell onto the concrete. Every muscle screamed and itched, it’d be great if her body fell at her sides and just left the skeleton remaining. She wiped her sweat with her tank top and got up.
No progress. No new cards, no nothing, for two whole weeks. She’d tried all sorts of movements. Information online seemed interesting enough but none of it changed a thing. She could feel herself getting stronger. Her lifts went up and her muscles peeked out. She was surprised nobody had noticed. Her mom didn’t even say anything. She’d come back that weekend to little fanfare. She began saying the same old things. Routine.
Finals came and went. Runes were easy, Spanish was easy, and English was never hard. History and Mastery classes passed uneventfully and she never even blinked when it came to math. School came to Iona as the easiest thing she’d done. It was all she had to do and focus on. She didn’t do anything else.
Summer started without a bang or a pop. The weather didn’t even change. Gray clouds hovered overhead and it was always “highs of 67* degrees”. They kept the gym open all summer for the mandatory sports lifts and summer classes. But even a week into summer she hadn’t gotten a single card. She needed real improvement and she needed it fast. Her body looked amazing but her face shone in its ugliness still. It’d be great if she could rip it off and attach the Desire card to her skin but that didn’t seem particularly pleasant.
She needed a plan for how to improve, and how to get more cards. When she was a kid she’d always had plans. Every day was plan upon plan upon a plan. But once she found: “Ankgor Erwat’s Remedy for Remedying Any of All Your Wishes and Seeing the True Nature of All Things” things changed. That was The Plan but now she just needed plans.
She walked to a local Staples and got a whiteboard and Sharpies. Every daily routine needed organization. Life was now unorganized, and imprecise. She’d obsessed over that darn book and that darn card for too long, she’d gotten lazy. She’d unlearned years of mental fortitude and good habits. She’d become a slob. She hadn’t taken a lesson in anything for years. Her mom stopped trying to get her to become a Master a while ago. She really didn’t do anything. That would change.
She took out the black sharpie and wrote on the whiteboard: “Things to improve:” and underneath she wrote: “Looks.” That was obvious. Attached to looks she wrote some qualifiers: “Body. Face. Personality?” Her body looked decent already but it could be better. There could always be less fat. Her face, her face, oh her face, genie, genie, change it now. Someone once cried because she saw her. She’d been mistaken for trolls on Halloween several times. Underneath “Looks,” she wrote in big fat lettering: “Ability.”
She didn’t want to live her life as a Runesmith at her mother’s corporation. She didn’t just want to inscribe and inscribe until her hands shriveled up and her brain morphed into a ball. She wanted to see a Japanese Master swordsman or live in a Wonderland in Europe. She wanted to eat expensive foods and she never wanted to work under her mom. She’d need something to sell or something to do or something to make. She wrote attached to “Ability,” “Create. Do. Help?”
But more important than ability was still looks. If you’re an ugly woman, even if you can make the most beautiful dresses, or fight with the most magnificent skills, you were still ugly. Prettier people would take your ideas, stamp on your face, and run your name through the dirt. But beauty wasn’t anywhere but in the face. Her horrible misshapen face. She’d hated it since she was seven. The first time Elliot Rosenthal called her “horsey-face”. His little punkish face lit up as he said it and doomed her to a life of ugliness.
What cards could improve her face? Maybe a make-up card? But that wouldn’t be permanent. To best find the card that would fix her she’d need to find out what cards she could get and how she could get them.
Underneath “things to improve” she wrote all of the cards she’d gotten and how she got them. Cards seemed to be separated into groups. The activity cards, or cards she got from doing something. This was like the Training cards she got. The second group seemed to be emotion cards like the Desire card. She only had one and she got it when she felt an extreme emotion. She’d tried to feel extra sad one day but that didn’t work, maybe it needed to be genuine? The last group was the elemental cards like the Water card she got. She got that from taking a long shower but she tried taking longer ones and never got another one.
Once she got one type of card it seemed to be extra hard to obtain a second of the same type. She’d need to try new things or try old things in different ways. Old things in different ways, she’d never had a boxing teacher now, had she? Maybe just going to a gym would get her a card?
She’d found the place online. “MMA Boxing Emporium”. They only charged fifteen dollars for group classes, beautiful. They were held in a large converted warehouse. Iona shuffled in through the front door and sat in the lobby. Punches resounded in tiny thumps and grunts came from all directions.
Her heart started to beat fast. She looked around the waiting room. Nobody else was there. There was a bookish-looking man covering the front desk and a small water machine. She filled a cup of water and drank it in a gulp. She shut her eyes and listened.
“Do you need anything ma’am?” She hadn’t even talked to the guy.
“I kinda signed up for one of your classes online.”
“Oh what’s your name and phone number.” She gave them and after thirty seconds she was in front of a punching bag. Familiar foe. But this one didn’t have patches on its side and didn’t look like it’d seen the Soviet Union. The room she’d been taken to was large and large windows looking out onto the street. Seven other people all probably in their twenties sat around. All of them dressed in various states of athletic wear, Iona forgot that. She’d only brought sweatpants and a dark-black sweatshirt. She didn’t think.
A woman opened the door to the room and walked in front of the group.
“Hello, boxing beginners I’m your instructor Marie. Normally I’d like to know everyones names but some more should be coming in so everyone warm-up with a couple of push-ups, sit-ups and squats.” As she said the last part she looked at Iona. Iona could do ten push-ups. But with the stump, it might be hard. She couldn’t hide it from the class and it’s not like any of these people knew her. Probably. Marie pressed a button on her phone and music started to blare. Loud pop filled the air and the sounds of grunting surrounded her. Would she do push-ups wrong? Was everyone looking at her? She saw Marie glance at her stump, she knew she was looking, her glance drifted away. But she could tell that underneath that intense demeanor was a jeering laugh. Laughing at the cripple trying to box. She swore they were staring at her. She didn’t belong. They didn’t want her.
She looked at the ground and did a push-up, then another, then another. She breathed in at each repetition. She moved to sit-ups next, then squats. She wasn’t the last to finish but she definitely wasn’t the first. Everyone seemed to be somewhat fit, they all had the telltale signs of working out, slim waists, and vague musculature. They were all men.
Marie went back to the front of the class. The only way she could be described is as angular. Her face, her nose, and her elbows, all jutted out of her body. She looked as if someone transmogrified a very attractive shark into a human being. She’d dyed her hair neon blue and her boney back was covered end to end in tattoos. Iona couldn’t tell if she was a Physical. Her body didn’t have the signs of muscle shift or machine. She was shorter than Iona but not by much, maybe about 5’10.
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“Ok now that we’ve got our bodies warmed up let me show you the punch that we’ll practice.” She demonstrated each punch as she said them. A jab, a straight, two hooks, and an uppercut. Each punch assigned a number from 1 to 6. Iona saw the moves before when she researched boxing online.
“Now everyone punch when I say to punch. No gloves. We’re just doing it in the air.” She called out numbers and everyone punched. Iona thrust her stump forward and forward again. The rest of the class noticed it at last but nobody said anything. Internally they laughed though, internally they knew she was just a butt ugly cripple. Again she played the blaring pop music, but her voice rang out above it. She spoke with bass. It sounded like an older man imitating a young woman. Or was it a young woman imitating an older man?
She moved through the class and corrected people on their forms.
“Tuck your chin.”
“Use your hips more.” She made her way through the room. Until, finally, she got to Iona. She stood behind her watching punch the air. She didn’t say anything, just moved past. She taught them how to wrap their hands and put on gloves. Maybe that was why Iona’s wrists always hurt.
Sweat pooled in her sweatshirt. It stunk and felt awful but she didn’t want to take it off in front of everyone. She was only wearing a sports bra underneath and she just looked awful. Nobody would want to see that. She swore that Marie was looking at her. Iona had seen a lot of people look at her over the years. But her eyes just stared. Stared and stared and stared.
The class ended. She didn’t get a card. Another bust. She’d have to do “new” things. She said a hushed goodbye and ran to the locker room to take off her sweatshirt. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. It was covered in grime and muck and scratches but through that, she could see herself. Her body, just her body, looked passable. Fat left her arms and her stomach. She could see baby abs poking out. It made her want to keep her shirt off. Let the world see everything. But their eyes wouldn’t be so kind. They’d see her face. God wasn’t kind to ugly people.
She splashed some water on herself and left the bathroom putting her sweatshirt back on. It was a cool day outside of the gym. Clouds hovered overhead. The air felt still. She sat on a bench outside and called her mom to come get her. She didn’t respond. The gym was about fifteen minutes from where she lived in a neighborhood called Santa Monica.
It was pretty rich. The house's lawns were well-manicured. Businesses looked somewhat expensive. Iona didn’t really go here that much. Well, she didn’t really leave the house that much. She’d been once as a kid to go see the pier. The Santa Monica Pier was one of the most distinctive things in the Los Angeles skyline. The giant Ferris wheel and the rotating dragon. Sometimes aspiring music Masters came to give live performances. Throngs of people crowded the place and life and energy pulsed through. But Iona didn’t want to ever go there. It was better over here, in the suburbs, with nobody around. Better to not have to look at anyone else.
“Hey I don’t think I got your name in my class.” It was Marie. And her eyes were looking at her. Was someone behind her? Did someone sneak up on her?
“Wait let me guess it. I love doing this. I can guess people’s star signs and their names just from looks. You look like a… Foster and you’re obviously a Pisces.” Iona stared.
“I’m Iona and I’m born August 27th. I don’t really know star signs.” She said and looked at the ground.
“Oh my God we are totally compatible then. I’m a Libra. Have you boxed before? You were soooo good. I couldn’t believe it.” It felt like an intense person doing an act. Was she making fun of Iona?
“I’ve boxed a bit at school. You did really good I thought.” Iona said. Marie flashed a huge sharp smile.
“And that’s college? Highschool? You’re quite tall so it’s impossible to tell how old you are.” Marie said. She looked directly at Iona’s eyes. Nobody usually gave her such perfect eye contact.
“I’m a senior in high school.”
“That’s so cute. I’m junior in college, gooooooo Bruins. I was so impressed with you. When I saw the sweatshirt I thought for the worst. Do you know how many girls have eating disorders that come and want to box? Too many. Too many. Anyways, you should come for the intermediate sessions, you’re way above those guys.” She didn’t sound like she was lying. It was too open an offer.
“Oh. Oh. Thank you. Do you like know if there’s a bus around here?” Iona said looking around. Her mom was probably working and she definitely didn’t want to take the thirty-minute walk back home.
“Where do you live? How far is it? I’m just going back home to Venice.”
“I live in Venice.”
“No. Freaking. Way. That’s unbelievable. I’m just astounded. Look at the luck on God’s magnificent green Earth. Now isn’t that amazing. Would you, my beautiful young friend, want a ride?” Iona felt very small compared to Marie.
“I can probably just walk it.”
“Oh patooie it’s forty-five minutes and you have to go around Junktown and you don’t want to do that.” Junktown was not optimal. Five minutes later, Iona was in a green Suburu. Someone had put the most ridiculous hippie bumper stickers all over the back. A “coexist” and a “God loves gays and commies” and a countless number of national park stickers. The inside was no different. It stunk of incense and cigarettes. Two guitars lay strewn about on the backseat and countless mugs and other objects lay all around. Iona still felt very small. Marie talked the whole way back to Venice. She chattered and chattered and chattered and basically forced Iona to give her number.
By the time Iona got home, she’d already reached her minimum talking allowed in a week. She could hardly speak.
“We are basically neighbors girl. This is crazy what a coincidence I can’t believe I haven’t seen you. What are you doing this week because I’m trying to run all summer and need a running friend? Don’t tell me it’s something way to fun for you not to enjoy it with an older friend. I’m just so lonely back home because all my friends went back for summer vacation. That’s what you get for being friends with cool New Yorkers.” Iona nodded before she heard what Marie was saying. She spewed words at every second.
“Ok I’ll text you. I owe Na.” She said overpronouncing each syllable.
“Thank you very much.” She didn’t say anything about the stump the whole ride. Iona kept on waiting for her to ask but she didn’t even attempt to.
Iona walked out into the street air and waved goodbye. Marie’s grin still shone as she drove away. Iona felt a bit wobbly. She hadn’t talked to someone that much in years. She walked along the sidewalk until she arrived right before her house. Her neighborhood was arranged into walk streets not normal streets. A singular small sidewalk connected each house and each block of houses was connected by a grid of streets. But in front of her gate, lying on the sidewalk, sat a man. Or maybe more of a boy? His most distinctive feature was a large tattoo going from his mouth into his stained white v-neck. It looked like a filigree sword from a distance. He wasn’t very large and his face glowed pale and anemic.
His breaths made great machine-like noises. He looked tired and exhausted, his arms drooped at his sides, his eyes sunken looking forward. Iona stopped about five meters before him and stared. He didn’t look at her but what did he want? Was he dangerous?
He seemed off. Like very off. He didn’t even turn his head to look at her approach. His eyes had that vacant look that you only see in someone who’d just done something they couldn’t undo. She heard a sound down the sidewalk. Running footsteps got closer and closer, bam, bam, bam, here they come. They were almost on them. Iona still stood frozen.
The boy got up. She saw a man emerge from a small sidewalk roundabout about fifteen meters off. He sprinted towards them. The boy started to run too. His legs gliding along the air carrying at speed. He looked almost beautiful as he ran. Iona stepped out of the way as he reached her. Their eyes met and he extended his arm and touched her on the shoulder. Pain shot down where he touched and she fell to the floor. The pain radiated off of the spot he touched. It felt like an ant trying to be released from her skin. The other man sped by her in an instant, his muscular legs forcing his body off the ground. She just watched them go.
As she got back to her room she opened up her deck of cards and there in shocking black-red a new one appeared. Instead of a suit, Iona looked at a picture of cartoony Iona clutching her thumb in pain. A 2 of Pain.