A Parthan Summer - Julie Steimle (large ebook reader TXT) 📗

I need answers to,” Mr. Hardt replied. Though just looking at her, he knew he was in for a debate. She had that argumentative bearing—the kind of girl that loathed being brushed off.

“Like what?” Zormna demanded. She waved over at the threesome. “They jumped Jafarr on the hike, beat the living blood out of him, and I had to stop them. How clear is that?”

“It’s a lie—” Damon stood up from his chair. “Look at her!”

Zormna whipped around, her eyes like razors. “You’re the liar!”

Damon swallowed, almost falling back.

Turning back to the director, she said, “Look, what else do you need? You saw Ja—Jeff—what happened to him. If I had done what they did, I would have been kicked out from this camp, no questions asked.”

It interested him that Zormna so boldly compared herself to Damon—that she could do what he did to Jeff. It matched Brian’s super-ninja claims. So, he tested that by saying, “The fact is, we have conflicting stories, and so far I cannot see which side I should believe. As these boys also are bruised as if they were in dragged into a fight. Care to explain?”

Zormna leaned back in disgust, setting her hands on her hips. “Damon and his friends lied.”

“And I’m supposed to believe Mr. Streigle’s story?” Mr. Hardt dryly replied. “That you caught these three boys beating up the state champ wrestler, and you, a little girl, single handedly defeated these three boys in a fight?”

“Four,” Zormna corrected, her eyes narrowing at being called a little girl. “There were four boys. One ran off before I even got to Damon.”

Mr. Hardt voice stuck in his throat momentarily. He almost laughed as her words sunk in as the most appalling ever. She had accepted it without even blinking an eye, just as Jeff and Brian had predicted. “Young lady, you know I can’t believe that story!” 

The three Monroe boys sat up in their seats.

“Why not? It’s the truth,” Zornma said, even sounding relieved that she didn’t have to pretend it didn’t happen anymore.

“It is improbable and impossible.” Mr. Hardt shook his head, finding it even harder to believe, with her short and thin frame in front of him, compared to the three thick and muscular wrestlers.

“Improbable, maybe,” Zormna retorted. “But not impossible. Don’t you know anything about martial arts? Sometimes the smallest person is the most dangerous.”

Mr. Hardt pinched the ridge of his nose. “So then you really were in a military school—a trained commando?”

“Commando?” Zormna stopped scowling with a lurch back. “What is a—?”

“How about super-ninja?” Mr. Hardt cut her off tiredly.

Zormna closed her eyes and groaned. “Which one of Jeff’s friends told you that?”

Damon glanced at his friends. They returned the look, almost as if the news was a relief to hear.

Mr. Hardt sighed. “Brian Henderson.”

“I see.” Zormna shook her head wearily.

The room went silent.

That was not the reaction Mr. Hardt expected. “Then you really are trained to fight like…uh…commando?”

“Look, I don’t know that word,” Zormna said. “But I was trained in martial arts since I was six. And I certainly can defend myself from a bunch of meatheads.”

Mr. Hard glanced back at Damon. The Monroe wrestler shuddered along with Aaron and Joe. His gaze on them was like a mother who at last realized the cause for all the spots on her nice new carpet. 

“So, Jafarr really told you?” Zormna eyed him with a chuckle. “I didn’t think he wanted you to know. You people around here always seem to think it embarrassing for a girl to rescue a boy—some primitive gender role thing….”

But as she said that, she watched Mr. Hardt’s eyes widen in exasperation. Her first assessment had been correct. He still found it impossible that a girl her stature could take down four boys the size and build of Damon Pikes. But that was the mistake of an inexperienced fighter. Large size just meant they fell harder. It was skill and knowledge that bested in a fight. And that, of course, was why Zormna had beaten those four boys easily. The only reason Jeff hadn’t beaten them was because they had taken him off guard and he was unable to regain his bearings to fight back. If Jeff truly had intended to ambush Damon and his pals—even by himself—he would have succeeded. Unfortunately, Zormna could not get Mr. Hardt to see that. She had to play on more…primitive sympathies.

“Jafarr?” the director echoed, remembering that was also what she called Jeff the day before when she had the sudden headache.

“Jeff.” She corrected herself for his sake. “So, you believe me now?”

The director looked like he didn’t know what to think. “Perhaps I’d like to see it to believe it.” 

“Glad to oblige.” Zormna then glanced with mischief towards the threesome.

They had been staring at her like she had revealed she was part of an Amazon tribe bent on destroying the entire Monroe wrestling team’s reputation. Damon rose.

“That’s ridiculous. Fighting is stupid.”

Mr. Hardt shook his head slightly, now really curious. “No, Damon. I think I want to see a demonstration of her ability. I think I’d like proof.” 

And Zormna laughed, gesturing at Damon. “I think his fear is evidence enough.”

Flushing bright red, Damon stepped back from her. “I’m not scared. I just don’t fight girls.”

But Zormna snorted with dry mirth, her green eyes piercing him with so much condescension. “Like I told you last time—that never stopped me before. Ask any boy at Pennington.”

“Enough!” Mr. Hardt declared, rising. The scene really was too much. Damon had practically backed to the wall. And his friends were gaping in horror at the repeat of the recent events. Their fear really was proof enough. “I believe you.”

Zormna shrugged, shifting her feet out of fighting stance. She sighed and stood up straight again.

“Apparently, I think we need to reevaluate this situation,” the camp director said, rubbing his forehead.

“Do you need some aspirin?” Zormna offered, extracting the pill bottle from her pocket.

Lifting his eyes to her, thinking now that she had passed her migraine onto him, he just waved her to the door. “No, thank you. You are all dismissed.”

Zormna stood there for a second. She shot a disgusted look at the three boys as she said, “But what about justice?”

“Just consider yourselves all on probation,” the director replied, closing his eyes and waving them out of the room more.

Huffing, Zormna glared at the three boys then tromped to the door. She yanked on the handle and let herself out.

Damon, Aaron, and Joe peered after her but did not go out yet. They shared looks.

“So, she really did end the fight,” Mr. Hardt murmured, staring at them.

Squaring their shoulders, the three boys wiped off their apprehension, steeled themselves and pretended that what he had said was a lie. They marched out the door. Yet out of his sight, all three kept an eye out for Zormna Clendar, as they now knew she was no ordinary cheerleader.

*

Zormna peeked into the infirmary first, but Jeff wasn’t there. So she snuck up the hill to the boys’ cabins and peeked inside the screen window of the Pennington wrestling team hut. Seeing a few of Jeff’s friends, Zormna ascended the concrete steps and opened the door. The Klingon glared at her, proclaiming the words ‘Watch it Earthman!’ like a forbidding guard.

Stepping in, she remarked with a gesture to the poster, “Interesting motto. Is Jafarr around? He wasn’t in the infirmary.”

Brian and Mark were playing War with a deck of cards across a bed. They blinked at her. Then blushed.

“Naughty!” Jonathan hopped off his cot with a grin, dropping his comic book. “You aren’t supposed to be boys’ side of camp. What if a teacher saw you?”

Zormna only shot him a dirty look. “I’m looking for Jafarr—Jeff.”

“He came and left,” Mark replied, setting another card down though he was also smirking at her for being so bold.

“Perhaps he hid after the fight,” Brian put in with a smirk, retaliating with a card.

Zormna grinned at him. “From Damon or me?”

Meeting her gaze with a knowing look, Brian said, “Does it really matter?” Then seriously, he added, “No, I really have no idea what happened to him. I’m guessing we were too noisy here, and he wanted to be alone. He gets like that sometimes.”

“I can’t blame him, really,” Zormna murmured. She nodded to them and turned. “Thanks anyway.” 

She stepped out of the cabin with a look around then snuck back down the hill. It wasn’t hard.

Closing her eyes, Zormna imagined where she would go if she wanted to be alone, yet safe from the likes of Damon and his thugs. One idea slipped in and she followed it.

She went across the gravel lot then wandered up onto the grassy lawn near the lake and peered over the open view to the darkening sky. The sun was setting on the other side of the lake through the trees, bringing a reddish glow to the bright halo of the sun. The sky above the lake turned a deep purplish hue. The moon hovered above the horizon, rising slowly. Zormna stared at the huge moon thinking had she been Home the sky would be even darker and even pinker in some parts with a blue sunset. That thought made her sigh. She peered down at the water’s edge. There was Jeff, as she had guessed, throwing rocks across the surface of the water. 

Walking down the grassy slope, Zormna slid onto the coarser soil until she reached the softer sand of the lake shore. Rocks were scattered along the edge of the lake, mixed into the sand. Picking up one stone, she threw it into the lake.

It splashed in with a light plop.

Jeff spun around, startled. But seeing who it was, he turned back to face the water.

“I figured you’d be here,” Zormna said, picking up another rock.

“Don’t take that rock. It’s too round,” Jeff replied, throwing a smooth stone skillfully at the water. It skipped three times across the surface before it sank underneath.

“What difference does it make?” Zormna asked, not really concerned about the rocks. She was still confused over why he had admitted to the director about her military affiliation. She knew it would only make Mr. Hardt more suspicious of her.

Taking a stone from the ground, he said, “A smooth flat rock skips better.” 

He quickly chucked the stone across the glassy surface. It skipped five times. 

“Woo hoo! A record!” he cheered.

Zormna watched this deceptively modest sport and was mesmerized for a moment.

“Did you know that water has a kind of clinging action? It clings to itself creating this tension, this surface. Some animals here, mostly insects, can walk on water. Others actually live in it,” Jeff said as if giving a science lecture.

Zormna shook her head. “I know, Jafarr. That’s terribly fascinating. But,” changing the subject she said, “Why did you tell Mr. Hardt I was a military officer?”

Jeff picked up another rock and threw it across the water. It only skipped twice.

“He wouldn’t believe my story when I told him you beat those guys. Besides, my ego was a little hurt.” Turning to Zormna, he said, “Do you know what it is like to have your friends laugh at you because you have been beaten by a girl? Scrapes, at home at least they knew who you were so they didn’t laugh so hard, but here….” Jeff threw another rock. It skipped four times then splashed hard into the water. “Here it makes me a laughing stock.”

“You shouldn’t base your worth on a wrestling match,” Zormna coldly said, picking up a flat stone and shying it across the water.

She watched it as it skipped three times. Pleased, she bent over and picked up another stone.

“Zormna, we still have a whole month left. The FBI is coming to watch and probably some are already here with how sneaky they are. Is there some way we can make this month less painful?” Jeff stared down at her, begging with his eyes.

Ignoring the question, standing up and throwing a rock, Zormna said, “Were