Free Poison Flowers by Nat Burns Page B

Have you met her yet?” She studied Marya calmly.
    “Yes, yes, I have, but…”
    “Let’s line up, please!”
    Marya jumped nervously as Dorry’s authoritative voice echoed across the
dojang
. She had entered the practice area from behind her, and chills jittered along Marya’s spine as she imagined those cold blue eyes raking across her back. Warily, she turned and caught Dorry’s gaze. The master was unreadable, her face impassive, her eyes icy as she glanced away to watch younger students scurry from the room.
    Karen grasped her numb fingers and gave them a squeeze. “We’ll talk more later,” she whispered as she pulled Marya into line.
    There were just eleven students in this high-ranking class. Because they were well-trained, they joined the line as though materializing from thin air. Marya glanced along the line, noting that most were close to her age except for one teenager who had already acquired his first belt.
    “I see we have a new student. Karen, since it seems you have already met her, perhaps you would like to make the introductions,” Dorry said, her gaze resting on anything but Marya.
    Karen stepped forward one pace. “I’d like to introduce Marya Brock from Seattle, Washington, sir!” she announced in a crisp voice.
    She stepped back into line, and the whole class as one unit turned toward Marya and bowed in welcome. When Master Wood turned her eyes upon her, they were as cold as ever.
    “Welcome to our
dojang
, Marya. We hope you will find balance and peace with us.”
    Marya bowed, deliberately dropping her gaze to the floor. Though it was subtle, she knew Dorry would understand and accept the message. In class she would always be subservient to her. All their differences were to be forgotten once she passed inside the doors of the
dojang
. When she raised her head, she saw Dorry’s eyes soften in acceptance, then the master inclined her head in a small nod of understanding.
    Classes under Master Wood were much the same as those in Seattle under Master Hayes, comprised mostly of powerful kicking and hand-arm strike exercises. They worked together well as a class. Marya was paired with Karen in tumbling and sparring work.
    Later Dorry moved the entire class together in the
kebong
form. Marya was impressed with the quality of the students’ performance. Even the youngest and oldest of them moved through the graceful stylized defense moves with near-perfect form. Obviously Master Wood spent a lot of time and energy with her classes.
    At the end of the ninety-minute workout Marya was winded, but her body was glowing with vitality. She smiled at Karen as they walked to the changing room together.
    “That was a good class,” Marya told Karen as she slipped out of her uniform trousers and into a pair of sweatpants. “What type of master is she?”
    “Master Wood? She’s a great teacher. I worry about her, though. She seems to have no life other than this school. I mean she’s here almost all the time.”
    Karen, already dressed in T-shirt and jeans, was brushing her long hair.
    “Why? Is she the only instructor?”
    “Oh no, she’s got at least three belts she has trained. I guess she has a hard time delegating authority or maybe she’s just bored, not an uncommon occurrence here in Marstown.”
    Marya chuckled and stabbed at her own hair with a brush. “What? With an exciting mecca like Myrtle Beach nearby?”
    “It gets old quick, believe me. Listen, I always go to Sissies after class for a milkshake. Would you like to join me?”
    Marya eyed Karen’s placid face and stuffed her uniform into her gym bag. “Sure, that would be great.”
    ***
     
    Dorry watched Karen and Marya leave the parking lot and an unwanted trickle of jealousy ran through her. As if she had any claim on the girl. Or wanted one.
    She turned from the window and reared back in her office chair. She wove her fingers together over her hard belly, the hands looking extremely white against the black of her
dobok
.