Free The Girl with the Crystal Eyes by Barbara Baraldi

and he has ruined everything.
    ----
        

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
        
        Lunch
hour at the gym. Just like the trendy people - I'll be able to tell my
sister. Eva puts on her trainers under her wide black trousers.
        She looks
around. She would never have thought it would be so busy at this time of day.
The changing room is really noisy, with everyone talking loudly, using their
microphones. This is another of her inventions, since she imagines that anyone
who talks too loudly has a large, invisible microphone, an accessory they
always carry with them to whip out whenever they need it.
        'Have
you seen my new outfit?' Giulia stands on tiptoe and swivels to look at her own
arse. Pink, microfibre jogging pants and a matching top.
        The
girl next to her has a similar outfit in light blue and is pushing up her
breasts with her hands inside her bra and pulling down the neckline of her top
in order to show off her cleavage. She glances at the pink version of her
outfit with a wry smirk.
        'You're.
really sure? The aerobics teacher is great, and you don't know what you're
missing.' Giulia looks at her friend, waiting for an answer - for a change.
        'Yes,
I'm sure.'
        'He really
is good. I've lost two kilos in a month with him,' says the girl in blue, who
doesn't miss a chance to join in the conversation. 'I'm signed up for two hours
a week of aerobics, and one of spinning,' she adds, for the record.
        'I
don't go to spinning classes any more. It gives you big calves.' Giulia eyes
the girl in blue from the knees down.
        The
girl flounces off, swaying her hips; having apparently not appreciated this
intervention from her pink-clad twin. Even Eva heads out of the changing room
feeling demoralised. She hates these surroundings. She doesn't feel at ease.
        On
the raised floor above, a group of Barbie-like girls skip in time. She strides
ahead under the gaze of the bodybuilder boys - each one thinking Look at me.
I'm the best-looking. You want me, don't you ? - and there it is, at the end
of a maze of muscles and vanity, the kickboxing room.
        Black
leather bags hanging from the ceiling, with people kicking and punching them.
They're mainly men - just two girls: one extremely thin with a wispy ponytail,
the other glowing with health and with two long plaits down her back. All that
one needs is a horned helmet, and she could be Obelix's wife.
        Eva
immediately spots the group of new recruits. Frightened eyes and cartoon expressions.
        She's
fond of a slender young boy with flapping ears. She's sure that he gets a
beating from everyone and would like to learn to defend himself, but, looking
at him, she reckons that's going to be hard.
        They're
already starting, warming up.
        The
coach looks just like the cartoon character Tigerman, but without the mask.
        Eva
is soon sweating. She's not at all fit and she's already exhausted after a few
minutes. He shouts, to encourage them all to keep going.
        Instead
of the music now playing throughout the gym - all the rooms are tuned in to a
commercial radio station - she would like a nice piece of heavy rock as a
soundtrack, perhaps something like that track by Faith No More that she adores,
'The Gentle Art of Making Enemies'. It has always really turned her on, that
song.
        She
would like to start punching and kicking straight away, but she can't. Warm-up,
abdominals, exercises on the spot to learn the basic moves: it's not what she
wants to do.
        She
remembers that she was about average in gym classes at school. But even when
she was just about average she was fitter than she is now. Perhaps thanks to
all those times she had to run so she didn't miss the last bus. Now she's out
of breath, every muscle strains and she's thirsty, and, what's more, what is
all this effort for? Not even a kick at the bag, and the bag seems to invite
it.
        The
group of old hands