Jeremiah’s tone was wary. “Maybe.”
“Everything I’ve ever been given was taken away again.” I waved off the question I could see forming. “My parents… the Jacobsens… even my time at Mama Rawlins’ came with a built-in expiration date. My enrollment at the Academy lasts exactly as long as I remain sane. Whenever they decide I’m nuts, I’ll be out on my ass, and the only thing I’ll be taking with me is me. What I’ve learned, what I’ve done, and who I am. Everything else is just temporary bullshit.”
“What does that have to do with my brother’s suit? I’m not going to ask for it back if you get kicked out.”
“When the only constant in your life is you, you can’t afford to rely on anyone else.”
“That’s dumb.” Despite the words, Stonewall’s voice was a quiet rumble. “Everyone ends up alone, but that doesn’t mean you go through life that way. And how many pairs of sweats have you stolen from the Academy med ward now? Fifteen?”
“I lost count somewhere around ten,” I admitted.
“Do you really think Gladys doesn’t know you’re taking them?” He shook his head. “This isn’t about self-reliance. It’s about pride.”
I swallowed the first three expletive-laden retorts that came to mind. “Maybe. Pride’s something I can take with me.”
“You know what else you can take with you?” He shook the hanger at me. “A fucking suit! You could be the best dressed asshole at the nuthouse. How’s that for pride?”
“Fuck you,” I said half-heartedly, my mind suddenly filled with images of me parading around an asylum in formal wear.
“I can throw in a top hat too,” he added, teeth flashing white against his dark skin and darker beard. “Maybe a cane. There goes Damian, they’ll say, fanciest damn honky we ever did see.”
“Honky?”
“My grandpa used to call our neighbors that. Not sure what it means. Asshole, maybe.” He shrugged. “You can’t eat pride. You can’t wear it, and it sure as shit won’t cuddle you at night. So maybe you should put pride aside every now and then and let people help you?”
For some reason, my thoughts turned to Her Majesty and her moment of almost-compassion outside the Academy. She’d been paid to get me there, sure, but everything else… had that been kindness or pity? And did it matter? Had Shane been less of a friend because he wanted to see if he could heal Crow insanity? Was Vibe less of one because she was using me as an emotional shield? Was Silt…
I stopped myself and shook my head. Silt was even crazier than I was. There was no point trying to guess her motives.
Stonewall misinterpreted my head shake. “Fine. Then don’t think of the suit as charity. Think of it as… an exchange.”
“For what?”
“I need your help.” He laid the suit down on top of his dresser, and sank down onto his own bed, face turned to the small window. “You saw my match with Orca, right?”
I winced.
“My first sparring match in full stone form, and it didn’t help at all. She wiped the floor with me.”
“How am I supposed to help with that? I’m the worst fighter left in Combat.”
“No, you’re not. You’re the weakest one.”
I frowned. “What’s the difference?”
“The difference is that you do the right things. You make the right moves. You only lose because you don’t have the power to actually hurt any of us.”
I fought unsuccessfully not to clench my jaw. “And?”
“And I’ve got the power, but I’m never in position to use it. If you had my power, you’d have shattered the Viking’s ribs instead of your hand. Me? I’m going to be pawing at nothing but air.”
“You want me to teach you to fight?”
“I want you to show me what I’m doing wrong. I feel like I get the moves in practice, but when it comes to sparring…” He shook his head. “I’m a Shifter. If I can’t win a close-quarters fight, I’m useless.”
As someone whose power still remained a total mystery, I knew all about being useless. The problem was, I had six powers classes, four non-powers classes, multiple tutors, and weekly sessions with Alexa. What I didn’t have was free time.
Much free time, anyway.
“Fine. Friday nights.”
My roommate’s smile vanished almost as soon as it appeared. “Seriously? Friday nights?”
“Do you have any idea what my schedule is like?”
“This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had, so… no.” He sighed and shook his head. “Friday nights it is. And this,” he added, picking the suit back up by its hanger, “is yours.”
I took the suit and returned it to my closet. “If I can help you win a match or two, I’ll expect something more.”
“Like what, exactly?”
“Like a top hat,” I said, “and a cane.”
Jeremiah’s laugh was just loud enough to wake Caleb back up next door. For some reason, Paladin didn’t carry through on his threat about the bucket.
CHAPTER 51
“Let’s try that again.”
“Are you serious?” Stonewall pushed himself back to his feet. His grey sweatshirt was dark with sweat, and his beard was matted with the same.
“You wanted my help,” I reminded him.
“Yeah,” he huffed. “Starting to regret that, to be honest. Three weeks and all I’ve gotten are more bruises. And Paladin still handed me my ass last week.”
“Which gives you tonight’s session to prepare for Alan Jackson.” I shook out my right hand behind my back, hiding a wince. I was pretty sure I’d cracked a knuckle in that last exchange. Even in human form, Jeremiah was solid.
Across the pit, he continued like he hadn’t heard me. “I think Gladys is starting to wonder what’s going on.”
“Don’t worry about her. She’s seen worse.”
“Yeah… like you, every other Monday.” Jeremiah paused. “I can’t believe I’m giving up my Friday nights for this.”
“And I can’t believe you still have the energy to bitch about it,” I shot back.
“Cardio’s not my problem.” Stonewall cracked his neck, rolled his shoulders, and raised his fists,
