“I gotta figure,” he said to the group, “since this isn’t getting you out of class, that you want to be here. Question is, why?”
“Because it’s cool?” one of the boys in front suggested.
Liam grinned at him. “It is that.”
Another laugh from the group.
“You going to teach girls, too?”
Liam looked at the girl who stood up front, looking at him rather challengingly. In that moment he was glad he’d helped Quinn to train Hayley and Teague’s Laney. They’d taught him as much as he’d taught them.
“Absolutely,” he said. “With the right mind-set, girls can get more out of it than anyone.”
She looked surprised. “You’re just saying that.”
“Nope. In fact, you have an advantage. If you’re attacked, it’s usually by someone who thinks you’re weak, and if you know how, you can use that assumption against them. You usually are smaller. You can use the size disparity even more. There’s an entire discipline, Brazilian jiujitsu, that specializes in just that.”
Her attitude changed visibly, from one of challenge to interest. In fact, she looked downright intrigued. He counted it as a small victory.
“I’m not an expert in any one of the disciplines,” he said. “What I am good at is picking what works for me. And that’s why I’m here, to help you pick.”
“If you’re not an expert, why should we listen to you?”
“What I’m also good at,” Liam said without acknowledging the bully’s presence with even a glance, “is assessing an opponent. The way they carry themselves, like a true fighter or just a big ol’ thug who doesn’t have a clue about fighting someone who knows how to fight back.”
A murmur went through the group. They got that he was talking specifically about the boy coming up behind him.
“And,” Liam continued, “I’m good at assessing the real level of the threat. If it’s someone who can hold their own, or someone clueless I could take down with a sneeze.”
This time they laughed. He supposed he shouldn’t egg the kid on like that, but he really didn’t like bullies. He’d been on the short end of that experience too often, when he was this age.
In the mirror he saw the boy’s hands curl into fists. A glance at Alan’s face showed he wasn’t quite sure he was being insulted, which was also Liam’s intent. Liam wondered if Alan was foolish enough to rush him, to attack someone there to teach defense against just that, and in front of the whole group. He almost hoped he was.
He doubted Foxworth would appreciate getting sued by some irate parent over the bruising of their not-so-little boy. Unless, of course, Alan started it. In front of multiple witnesses.
“Most bullies are more scared than anything,” he said, keeping Alan’s reflection in the line of his peripheral vision as he stepped onto the mat. “Except for maybe that clueless thing.”
Again, laughter. Liam could almost feel the big kid’s rage.
“Go ahead, give it a shot,” he said, without turning.
Alan stopped dead. Liam shoved his hands into his jeans’ front pockets. Stood casually, as if he were completely unaware. “You’ve got the drop on me, right? From behind. And you’re a big guy. No way you can lose.”
“It’s a trap,” Alan muttered.
So he was smarter than he looked, Liam thought. “Just a demonstration,” he said. “I need a tough guy.”
Alan smiled at that; Liam could see it in the mirror. But still Alan hesitated. Then somebody in the group muttered audibly, “Coward.” He felt more than saw Alan stiffen.
“Come on,” he urged. “No repercussions.”
He felt the moment when the boy decided, egged on by that derisive comment, heard the movement when he took that first step. And then he was charging, energized perhaps by the free rein given.
At the last second Liam dodged, spun and swept his right foot into Alan’s path, carefully avoiding the knees, where he could do some real damage. The boy went down, hitting the soft mat with a thud that seemed to echo off the walls. And Liam had never taken his hands out of his pockets.
The cheer that went up told him how weary the others were of this particular bully. But he also knew the dangers of provoking one and the likelihood Alan would take out his fury and embarrassment on the first smaller, weaker prey he could find. So Liam grinned and held out a hand to Alan.
“Great job, Alan. Thanks for being a good sport about it. Oh, and for not taking my head off.”
The implication that he could have if he’d wanted to seemed to mollify the boy. Liam watched him make the decision to play along. He let Liam give him the hand up.
“If you can’t take out the best, what good are you?” Alan said.
Bluster, Liam thought. But he only nodded. If he was really here to teach, it might be interesting to find out what was behind the bully facade. But right now he’d served a purpose. Every other kid in that gym was on Liam’s side now.
* * *
Liam almost had the mat rolled up for stowing under the bleachers along the side wall when he sensed the approach. Instead of looking behind him, he looked at Cutter, who was on his feet, tail wagging. Trusting the dog’s instincts, he finished the job before straightening up and turning around.
Dylan.
“Hey,” Liam said casually.
The boy nodded. “That was great. I liked the sound of the Krav Maga stuff.”
Liam smiled. “It’s effective. Designed for one purpose—street survival.”
“Neutralize the threat, you said.”
He nodded. “By whatever means necessary.”
Dylan nodded. And as if it were a signal, Cutter walked up to him, tail still wagging, ears up. The boy’s smile widened. He reached out to stroke the dog’s head. The tail wagged faster.
“I was watching him. He didn’t like Alan much.”
“He’s a very good judge of people.”
Dylan didn’t miss the implication, that Cutter clearly liked him as much as he’d disliked Alan. The boy looked pleased, which told Liam a lot.
“You want to talk about which way you want to go?” Liam asked.
Dylan shook his head. “I can’t. I shouldn’t even be here now. I have to get home. I’m stuck with watching my little brother, so I have to go get him.”
“I hated that, being the built-in babysitter,” Liam said.
Dylan’s gaze shot to his face. “Yeah. Sucks.”
There was something else there, Liam thought. Something deeper than just not liking being a babysitter. He glanced at Cutter, who was leaning into the boy, giving him the full-on Cutter stamp of approval. The boy continued petting the dog, smiling in a way that, for the moment at least, seemed to erase the shadows.
“You got some other time you could free up?” Liam asked. “I’m flexible.”
He saw something else flash in the boy’s eyes. Surprise? Even eagerness?
“Really? I mean, I have an hour-and-a-half break at eleven, between trig and English on Tuesday and Thursday.”
Liam had already known this from Ria; it was part of the plan, and why he’d made the suggestion. It would give them time without other kids around.
“All right. We’ll do your one-on-one session then. I’ll see if the gym’s available,