Easy

but I know this guy.
    My heart in my throat, I watched as each of my classmates used their newfound defense techniques on a fully-padded Lucas or Don. As we took our turns on the mats, each of us benefitted from a bloodthirsty eleven-person cheering section, while the guys took turns so they could rest up from being pummeled, kicked, and verbally reviled. Since the padding cushioned our blows, they had to do a bit of acting—adjusting their reactions as though each landed punch or kick had done its job. So when Erin saw an opening and swung a perfect sweep kick to the groin, Don crumpled to the ground as if incapacitated.
    Eleven voices screamed, “ Run! Run! ” But Don’s big, padded body blocked a straight escape to the designated “safe zone” by the door, and Erin hesitated for a split second. He rolled toward her and we screamed even louder. Roused, she leapt onto his chest like it was a springboard and launched herself, turning when she landed and kicking him two more times before running away.
    When she reached the far door, she pumped both fists in the air and bounced up and down while everyone cheered. Ralph clapped her on the shoulder as she rejoined us, and I glanced at Lucas. Wearing his ghost smile, he watched her. One more woman, empowered. One more given the ability to defend herself against attack. One more who might not meet his mother’s fate. His eyes found mine, and I wondered if these single, hopeful moments would ever be enough to alleviate the ache that haunted him. The ache about which I was presumably unaware.
    Pulling his gaze from me, he went to wait for the next potential victim to walk onto the mats. There were two of us remaining—a very soft-spoken secretary named Gail from the student health center, and me.
    Ralph eyed the two of us. “Who’s next?”
    Gail stepped forward, trembling visibly. While Ralph murmured subtle tips—something he hadn’t done for anyone else—Lucas went easy on her. Our booklet said that having the confidence to fight back was a critical part of self-defense training, and I knew they were giving her that. The more punches and kicks she landed, the louder we cheered her on, and the harder she fought. When she returned to the group and accepted our emphatic praise, there were tears on her face and she was still wobbly—but she wore a mile-wide smile.
    I went last, against Don. My adrenaline spiked the moment I stepped onto the mat, and I wondered if the tiny shockwaves running through me were visible to everyone, like Gail’s unsteady hands had been as she held her small body in defense mode. I knew Lucas and Erin were watching me closely; they were the only ones who knew exactly what had brought me there.
    The entire thing was over in a minute, maybe two.
    Don circled me once, mumbling hey, baby comments—part of the scenario. I kept my eyes on him, my whole body taut, waiting. Suddenly, he swerved toward me and tried to grab my arm. I did a wrist block, then screwed up a snap kick and ended up in a front bear hug. I wasn’t sure if it was in my head or actually shouted—because everything seemed slow-motion and muted, like we were under water—but I heard Erin’s voice yell, “ NUTSACK! ”
    I brought my knee straight up, tearing from Don’s grasp when he grunted and released me. Running to the door, I heard Erin’s cheerleader-voice rising over everyone else’s. She bounded across the room to hug me when I reached the safety zone, and over her shoulder, I watched Lucas’s expression. He’d removed his headgear and combed his sweaty hair back, so I could clearly see his face, and the familiar barely-there smile.

    ***

    Lucas: You did well this morning.
    Me: Yeah?
    Lucas: Yeah
    Me: Thanks
    Lucas: Coffee sunday? Pick you up around 3?
    Me: Sure :)

    ***
    Saturday night’s performance demanded my full attention, distracting me until I was in my room. Erin hadn’t returned from yet another sorority gathering, but was due back soon. The entire dorm was wide awake, studying for—or freaking out about—finals, enjoying the last full weekend before break, or well past ready to go home. The voices in the hall alternated between pre-finals tension and pre-holiday excitement.
    A deep-toned bass line seeped through the wall opposite my bed, and my fingers moved with it. Occasionally, the fact that I played the bass would come up with strangers, who typically imagined an electric instrument and a garage band. Lucas looked more suited to that