Kara wasn’t the best at teaching people how to do things as she never had to in the past, so training seven people to fight and one in medical along with his dog was a feat that Kara was very lost in.
Most of the gang members were decent when it came to picking up the fighting skills when taught them, only needing slight corrections in posture and technique at times. After she taught them the basics they spared against each other till they were good enough with their own weapon that they could teach the others. Kara believed that it was in everyone’s best interest that the group knew how to handle every weapon so that they would have better chances in the field.
The boy training to be their medic, a boy by the name of Aaron who had dyed his hair bright green, along with his Weimaraner, Bonsai, were a bit harder to train. Luckily Aaron had some survivalist books, and Arrow was able to handle most of the training with the canine. All Kara had to do is give them the means to communicate between each other, so that out on the field canine and trainer could work seamlessly.
The only problem was a boy named Grayson who had lost sight in one eye due to a fight with some kids at his high school. He was quick to frustrate and, with his weapon of choice being a handgun, he had to walk away frequently. After sessions one day Kara asked the boy to hold back for a bit.
Once the others were gone she went through some one on one training with the boy which only frustrated him more, leading to him yelling at her.
“Unacceptable, reload and try again.”
“It’s not my fault I’m missing the target. Depth perception is a mother when you have one eye.”
“I know,’ Kara stated calmly ‘I am missing one remember. The magic I use to hide my scars only does that. It didn’t give me my eye back.”
Grayson growled. “And what do you suppose I do then.”
“Keep practicing. The only way you’re going to figure this out is by fine tuning your shot. The more you shoot the more you’ll figure out where you really have to aim to hit.’ Kara turned to her companion. ‘Think of it like shooting a bow. One has to take the weight of the bow, the distance, and the wind to get a good shot. If the shot is off they use that data to correct it. It’s the same with your situation.”
Grayson fell silent and Kara sighed, grabbing the bag of remaining ammo and laying it at Grayson’s feet. “I’ll leave this with you until we meet up again. Practice as much as you want, and if you need more ammo come find me.” Grayson nods, thanking Kara quietly to which he earns a nod.
“Don’t let this be what does you in Walker. You have potential even with one eye. All you need to do is figure out how to use it.” Kara then walks to her car with Arrow and drives away.
Grayson was a lot more level-headed the next day of training and he hit the target every time, getting bullseyes at least 25% of those shots.
Schools are a strange territory to be living in. The schedule is something that very few can withstand without help whether it’s staying awake for the first period class, or thee copious amounts of homework one gets assigned a night.
The rules also vary depending on where you are within the boundaries. Inside the borders of a classroom one must be more restrained then if in the gym.
If there was any place on campus that could be considered lawless it would be the cafeteria. You’d think that prime time for chaos would be before or after school hours but those are times where people are either too tired to care or trying to escape to something more enjoyable.
No, lunch hour is chaos time.
Many people in my circle of friends can hold their own, and if they can’t the rest of us are there to back them up.
Sadly, I am apart of the group who have a hard time defending themselves. It’s not that I can’t get out of a situation by any means, I’m just a small person that people can bulldoze over with little issue.
One of my friends, Kai, likes to say that I protect myself through flirting and he’s right. A lot of the time if I’m pinned I try to fluster the aggressor to a point that I can get away or hold off till help can come.
Help by the name of Grayson that is.
Grayson is another person in my friend group who takes it on himself to protect some of the people who are easier pickings when he sees them. He doesn’t go out of his way per say, but he has a hard time staying out of a fight if he sees that its greatly one-sided.
I have told the boy time and time again that there are times that his actions could cause more harm than good. I say it and I say it, but he just doesn’t listen to me.
Anyways today I was walking home from the gym when I heard labored breathing coming from behind the brick wall. I stopped and started to climb up the small wall to look over to see a bloody Grayson. He looked up, revealing what looked to be a blade wound going across his eye.
I hopped back down to grab my bag before jumping over the fence to kneel next to him. According to his statement, some of the people who’s attacks he thwarted (My word, Grayson wouldn’t dare use it) decided they’d had enough of him interfering in their business. They jumped him and attacked with a small cooking knife.
“Guess I did more harm than good.”
“Oh, so now you listen to me.”
Grayson laughed at my annoyance before wincing. After taking a breath I took his arm and slung it over my shoulder to haul him to his feet. Grayson may have only had one wound, but it looked like the group did more than that. If anything the slash was probably just to get him off his game.
As we walked back to my house I texted another person of our group, who designated himself as our medic, to meet at my house to help me out. Once he was done patching up Grayson he said that he will be able to keep the eye, but he wouldn’t be able to see out of it anymore. He then said his goodbyes and left for his own home, leaving a very tired Grayson on my couch.
When Mom came home she didn’t question why Grayson was bandaged (and asleep) on our couch, she just smiled and stated that she was lucky that she bought enough food for another mouth. I went to help her out, explaining the situation as a conversation starter.
Mom has always liked Grayson, constantly saying that he was a good kid even if he tried to deny it to her. She saw him as a son and welcomed him into our home with open arms without question or judgement.
When dinner was close to being done she had me go wake him up and bring him to the table, which I did with only mild annoyance at Grayson’s stubbornness about staying asleep until I told him Mom was the one who made it (Which made him jump up to get to the dining room only to slam his shin into the side table).
As we sat down for dinner Mom didn’t bring up the wound, instead talking about other random ideas and her work day. When we were done she had Grayson got lay down in the guest room to get some rest as the two of us worked on cleaning up. Grayson tried to help but Mom wouldn’t let him into the kitchen, stating that he would have to learn how to get around with his new depth perception before he was allowed anywhere near the kitchen.
While the two of us worked on cleaning up Mom turned to me with a smile.
“Know what Grayson needs for when his eye is healed?”
“What?”
“An eyepatch. Keeps the wound covered and looks better than bandages.”
