They found themselves in training room B in the gymnasium again where they had used wooden swords for Castile’s css. The mannequin-looking things with upper-torsos propped on bck stands had been pulled out to the center of the area and lined up. Vincent surmised they would be used for some sort of practice. They were basically punching bags in the form of a human being male’s armless upper torso. Freestanding training dummies.

  “These will be your sparring opponents for now,” Mr. B said, knocking his knuckles into one of them, making it teeter on edge. “So you won’t have to worry about getting punched back.” He grinned. “We’ll begin with the basics of punching.”

  Acard scoffed. “What’s to learn? You throw your fist forward, hit your target, and they fall down.” He then spread his legs, steadying himself, and threw a succession of three quick punches in the air as if he was some sort of punching master.

  Mr. B folded his arms. “You’re right, son, in a manner of speaking. But it’s not just about power or intensity or spirit. It’s about precision, focus, and form, and knowing where, when, and how to hit.” He stepped to one of the dummies, then leaned his weight on his back foot as he positioned himself, twisted his torso, then punched the dummy without overextending himself.

  It was an interesting movement, Vincent thought, as the times when he’d see people throw a punch, especially kids in elementary toward him, they would overextend their arms, throwing their whole body into the motion, twisting wildly with all the power and backing of their manic movements, easily giving into tripping over themselves or falling forward with their furious forward momentum and rage.

  Mr. B’s movement was more of a whipping motion, striking forward with controlled and precision. With twisted torso, he had thrown his fist forward in sort of popping movement. The impact was solid, making the dummy slide backward and bump into the rest of the dummies.

  “You shift your body into the punch,” Mr. B said as he made the movement again, slower this time to show them. “Keeping all your weight on your back or front foot, then twist and pop into the punch, not overextending or putting too much power into the wrong areas, unless you want to be easily blocked, parried, or side stepped.”

  He moved to the wall, making the same motion, pushing his fist into the wall. “Think of it like pushing against a wall, except it’s a combination of push and punch, or strike. Use your body and waist to really give the punch some leverage, so you can snap it forward.” He punched the dummy again with a resounding thud. “But be careful, as these dummies are filled with sand beneath to keep them in pce, and enchanted to withstand impacts as well as provide a bit of magical kickback based on the power you put into your punch, and to level the pying field as some of you have augmented strength.”

  “Each of you come over and grab one with your name on it,” Mr. B said, motioning to them. “Pull it to the center of the room and get a feel for it.”

  As they approached the dummies, Acard shoved Vincent to the side, snarling, “Outta the way, punk.”

  Vincent clenched his fist, ready to fight, but Mr. B stepped in-between them as they growled at one another. “Let’s keep things civil, boys.”

  Having a hard time keeping his Beast Mind in check, Vincent grumbled and turned to his dummy that had the name “Vincent” across its chest, using his anger to pull his dummy to a spot far from Acard. Mr. B wasn’t joking when he said they were filled with sand as it was quite heavy, and when he stopped, he had to wipe perspiration from his forehead as the movement took quite the exertion. He was impressed that it didn’t take more for him to move it, and that he was able to move it, even if he had dragged it along the floor.

  He ran his hand along the dummy, inspecting its form. The material was like human skin but firmer and harder while being soft enough to push against. He pushed a finger into the material, forming a small indentation that reformed to its regur shape like some kind of memory material.

  A weird tingling sensation moved along his finger. While it didn’t hurt, it had given his finger the tiniest of shocks. Was that the magical pushback Mr. B was talking about?

  He stepped back and nodded, telling himself that he could just try to emute Mr. B’s body movement to replicate the punch. Bending his knees and leaning his weight on his back foot, he raised his arms up as if ready to fight. He then made the movement, twisting and snapping his fist forward, hitting the dummy with some force, but not too much, as he wanted to get a feel for it. He jumped in shock as the magical feedback twirled up his arm in a tingling reverberation, making it feel like it was asleep as the jolt of pain subsided. He lowered his hand, shaking it a bit as the combination of fuzzy lightness and tiny pulsations of pain lessened with each throb.

  “Whoa,” he said, shifting his weight, shaking off the momentary jolt, and readying himself again.

  “You really are a chump, aren’t you?” Acard said, shaking his head with a chuckle as he readied himself in front of his own dummy. “Let me show you how it’s done.” He raised his hands and lightly hopped on his toes, then threw a punch at the dummy, making it rock slightly. A smirk turned to a grimace which Vincent surmised was the magical kickback hitting him from his punching power. It was kind of a funny site as it reminded him of a puffed-up cat that had been scared.

  Acard snarled and slid back in a furious motion, cracking his neck, then stepped forward with three more quick punches, his face twisting with small movements that looked like reactions to the magical kickback that he did his best to hide as if it was nothing. He stopped, looking like he was worn out for a moment, perhaps frustrated, not stopping, but definitely slowing his pace and power of his punches, muttering under his breath as he circled the thing like a curious and timid dog. “Stupid thing, I’ll show you.”

  His next punches were lighter, exploratory, getting harder and stronger with each strike. He seemed to have the idea, even if he was a punk, so Vincent decided to follow a simir pattern. Stepping back, stepping in, throwing a punch. Trying it the way Acard was doing, light on his feet, but with the twisting, popping motion that Mr. B had done, both feet pnted, not extended too much but using plenty of power.

  Max leaned against his dummy, taking a breather as he was seemingly struggling with his, waving Mr. B away from offering assistance as he pushed away, staggering on weak feet. “It’s alright, teach,” he said between heavy, exhausted breaths, wiping sweat from his brow. “I totally got this.” He totally didn’t, but at least he was putting in some effort.

  “By the end of the week,” Mr. B said as he circled them, watchful. “I expect you all to be able to deliver a punch that slides your dummy backwards.” He nodded and folded his arms. “I’m here for advice or tips or anything you need. Other than that, you’re on your own. Take the remainder of the css time to get a feel for it.”

  Vincent looked around, noticing how the others were doing.

  Mizuki was also doing a round of test punches, thwacking it in increasing levels of strength. There was a moment where she threw a quick succession of several punches in a row which made her flinch, mainly in her face. Her eyes, though, were fierce and fiery and wild and enthralled with the challenge.

  Vincent imagined her dummy was Acard, which also made him smile. Perhaps she was thinking the same thing. He gnced over at Acard, seeing him punch his dummy again in frustration, which brought about a simir arched-back movement that really did look like a startled cat. Then, he let out another growl of frustration, punching the thing again, making him jump in pce as if shocked by some sort of conducted energy device used to immobilize a human being. It was quite hirious.

  Max threw some timid punches at his, looking like he very much wanted to avoid the kickback shock. After a few light punches, his confidence rose and he threw a harder one. And it looked like he was frozen in that spot, his eyes wide and… were those tears? After a moment, he shook it off, gritting his teeth as he gnced over at Mizuki, trying to look tough, not that she was paying any attention to him as she was zoned in on her task. Max was barking up the wrong tree indeed.

  Isabel circled her dummy in slow steps, studying and analyzing it. She then took a stance and whipped around, forcefully punching the thing, making it teeter on edge. She grimaced, her arm shaking as if it hurt, biting her lip, and the pain, away.

  Vincent gulped as he saw, and felt, an explosive energy exuding from her as she unleashed that punch. And more than that was how she stood strong against the mighty magical kickback that was probably pulsating through her body. It made Vincent realize that he really needed to stay on her good side.

  Alexander had one hand in pocket, the other running along the material of the dummy, rubbing his chin in a curious motion. He stepped back and delivered a precise and powerful punch right in the middle of its chest which made it wobble on the spot. Alexander’s face gave away little, save a glimmer of a grimace as he tightened his jaw and tensed his body.

  Vincent circled his dummy, delivering some punches, bracing himself for the kickback as it hit him in successive tingling sensations of shocking pain. He held himself steady as he threw more punches, each time taking the pulsating pain in stride. Granted, he didn’t punch it with all he had, but he still delivered more than he was comfortable with, tensing his body with each kickback reverberation, all the while telling himself that this was necessary to become stronger, faster, smarter.

  When the bell rang they pushed their dummies back into the corner with all they had left, looking exhausted from the effort and magical kickback of strikes.

  Mr. B cpped. “Good effort, everyone. You’re all free to go. All, except Vincent and Acard.” He motioned to them with a big index finger. “A word, please?”

  The two of them stopped and turned to him after exchanging gnces with one another.

  The other students left, Isabel looking over her shoulder, curious about what they were going to talk about.

  Mr. B stood over them with his solid frame, muscled arms folded over his front. “I want you two to show up an hour before css starts tomorrow.”

  Acard rubbed his neck in a frustrated manner. “For what? I ain’t doing anything with this chump.”

  “For training,” Mr. B said with a big grin. “Both of you need it to help with the Power of the Were, especially if you want to master the transformation at will.”

  “I don’t need no training, teach,” Acard said with a chuckle and zy wave of his hand. “Especially with the likes of him.”

  While Vincent didn’t really like Acard, it was for good reason. He often prodded and poked at him. But Acard’s disdain for him made Vincent wonder what it was really about?

  “And I don’t need no teacher telling me how to use the Power of the Were, or how to transform at will,” Acard continued with a confident smile. He then let out a knowing sigh. “Unless it’s mandatory, I ain’t interested.” He turned to make his leave.

  Mr. B frowned. “Transform to your werewolf form right now.” Mr. B’s voice boomed as it was projected throughout the whole gymnasium in a commanding manner, as if to challenge Acard.

  Acard stiffened and stopped, then looked over his shoulder with a toothy grin. “Don’t wanna.”

  Mr. B definitely had him with that, Vincent thought. While Acard was stronger than Vincent and knew a lot more, he probably wasn’t able to transform, right?

  “Don’t wanna,” Mr. B said, copying his tone. “Or… can’t?” There was a rising challenge in his voice.

  Acard turned fully, his eyes meeting Mr. B as if to push back. He tilted his head, trying to look confident, but had nothing to show for it.

  Mr. B pointed a finger at Acard. “If you truly want to become stronger, son, you’ll be here tomorrow. If not… well, good luck. I’ll just consider you intimidated by the challenge.”

  “I ain’t scared of nothing,” Acard said pointing a finger at himself.

  “Good,” Mr. B said, satisfied. “I’ll see you on the field at 5:45am tomorrow – bright and early.”

  “That’s two hours before css,” Acard said, frowning and shoving his hands in his pockets.

  “I see you are paying attention, then,” Mr. B said with his own smile.

  Acard shrugged. “I’ll see if I can make it, teach.” He turned and gave a little wave as he exited.

  Vincent gulped at the thought of training with that punk, zoning out for a moment. Mr. B’s voice brought him back.

  “Son?” Mr. B asked, grabbing his shoulder firmly. “Everything okay?”

  Vincent nodded, his fear growing. What was this training going to entail? Would it answer his questions about the dream and what to do with it. Was he going to be able to master this… transformation at will? It was too much. He turned to face his teacher, holding back the worry that was obviously present in his anxious energy.

  “Don’t worry,” Mr. B said with a wide smile. “This’ll be good for you, both of you.” He looked off in the direction that Acard had left. “Now run along.”

  Vincent gulped again, not sure where to start, or what to ask, so he just said something. “It’s close, sir. Very close.”

  Mr. B tapped Vincent’s shoulder with reassurance as if knowing exactly what Vincent was talking about. “I know, son. That’s why you’ll be here tomorrow. Stick with the training and do as I say, and you’ll be fine. Trust me on this one.”

  Vincent exchanged a look with his teacher and nodded, accepting his words, taking his trust, and vowing to himself to do whatever it took to figure things out, and do what he needed to do before the beast caught him in his dream.

  But for now, it was onto his next css.

  .   .   .

  As Vincent made his way from the gymnasium to the school, he was happy to see that the others were just outside in a circle talking amongst themselves. He made his way over as a warm feeling came over him at the thought of friends.

  “What are you so excited about?” Acard was standing against the wall of the gymnasium, watching him with hateful intent. Vincent didn’t understand why this punk kid seemed to hate him so much? Was he just that type to push and shove? Was it because they were both werewolves? Or was it something else? And as Acard approached, he smelt it again – that wet dog smell that made his stomach turn. He did his best to not let his face screw up in disgust as this would be just the thing Acard needed to get physical, and Vincent was in no mood to get beat down right now, even though part of him wanted it, willed it, welcomed it. Was that his Beast Mind? There were so many things he had to learn about.

  Then again, maybe it was simply that Acard just never knew when to quit, as he had certainly demonstrated on various occasions. Vincent turned to him, his anger rising at the sight of him, his fist clenching as if ready to fight. “What do you care?”

  Acard frowned, circling Vincent. “Simple curiosity.”

  “About what?” Vincent asked.

  “Why you are prancing around like an excited dog that gets to go on a leashed walk?”

  “What?” Vincent said with a snarl, feeling insulted by his words. His jaw tighten, throwing caution to the wind. “What’s your problem?”

  He stepped to Vincent, pushing a finger into his chest. “You’re my problem.”

  Vincent spped his hand away and pushed him back. “Don’t touch me, punk.”

  Acard smirked and snarled, looking like he was waiting for this. “Or what? What are you going to do, chump?”

  Vincent didn’t know, actually. He knew he was outcssed, at least for now. And he certainly didn’t want to escate this, even though his Beast Mind was suddenly kicked into gear, screaming for him to pounce on the kid and rip him to shreds. Part of him knowing how that would turn out, another part thinking he could actually win. It was an invigorating feeling. Then again…

  “Nothing,” Vincent said, drooping his shoulders into a passive position as he looked to the ground, posturing as little as possible, dispying beta behavior, and letting Acard be the alpha.

  “That’s what I thought,” Acard said, shouldering passed Vincent with a chuckle and shake of his head as if disappointed at him. He gnced back at Vincent with a toothy grin. “It’s gonna be fun beating you to a pulp tomorrow. Now run along and go py with your little friends.” He said that st part with a growl, as if there was a hint of jealousy in there, before sauntering away.

  Vincent ignored him, even though ever fiber in his muscle told him to turn and charge him, screw the consequences. He held steady, though, as his time to do that would come.

  “Don’t let that him get to you,” Mizuki said with a dismissing wave of her hand. “He’s just a punk.” Vincent agreed, feeling his spirits lift because he had friends.

  Friends. Something he’d never really had up until this point, and while it was going to be a lot to take in – dealing with Acard, the supernatural world, his werewolf being, and all that crap – having this new group of friends would make it easier.

  “What’d you guys talk about in there, anyway?” Alexander asked.

  Vincent looked to the group, noticing Isabel’s curious face out of all of them, hoping she wasn’t still mad at him.

  “He wants to help me with my Power of the Were,” Vincent said, suspecting they already knew that. “And the transformation at will, together with Acard.” He shoved his hands in his pockets angrily at the thought of having to train with that punk.

  “Oh, that blows,” Max said with a frown. “Training with two dudes instead of fine females. Especially since it’s that jerk Acard.”

  Vincent shrugged. “I’m gonna have to face him eventually, so it’ll be fine.” He didn’t feel as if it was fine. Still, he had to do it, despite feeling low in confidence. Screw confidence. He clenched his fists in his pockets. “I’ll eventually surpass him, because I’ll never back down from a challenge from a punk like that.” He smiled, feeling a sense of pride and power.

  “Nice,” Alexander said, grasping his shoulder.

  Mizuki and Max looked like they agreed as well. Even Isabel had a sweet smile, which made Vincent feel a little better that she wasn’t gring at up him, at least not for now.

  “What did y’all think about punching those dummies?” Max asked, moving his feet about and punching the air. “That darn magical feedback or whatever was weird, amirite?”

  “Mr. B did tell us they were enchanted and filled with sand,” Isabel said matter-of-factly. “As well as telling us about the magical kickback. Did you think he was messing with us?” Her tone was a bit annoyed, angry even, and Vincent wondered what her deal was, as she seemed to be having mood swings or something.

  “Hmm,” Max said, nodding and rubbing his chin like an idiot. “He did warn us.”

  Isbel rolled her eyes and let out a scoff, folding her arms.

  “That don’t matter to me,” Mizuki said, raising her clenched fist. “I’ll punch right through it no matter how painful.” She gave a wild smile, and Vincent wondered if she was a masochist.

  “You always say stuff like that,” Max said with a pyful grin.

  “Do not,” she said, punching him in the arm.

  “Even though he warned us,” Vincent added, looking at his own hand, flexing and extending his fingers. “It was a weird feeling.” He chuckled. “But I guess everything is weird to a newbie.” He continued, contemptive. “It seemed like the more power I put into my punch, the more it hurt, the more my hand and arm and even body became weak, fuzzy even, like it was asleep. But it also gave me a shock of pain like tiny needles pricking my skin.”

  They all exchanged knowing gnces, as if they had experienced something simir.

  “I don’t mind pain at all,” Mizuki said with that same naughty smile.

  “We got a masochist in our midst,” Alexander said, exchanging a pyful look with her.

  She glowered at Alexander with fiery eyes. “I’ll show you pain.”

  “I’m sure you would,” he said with that sly signature smile of his.

  Max frowned, gncing from Mizuki to Alexander, displeased at their little pyful show, perhaps jealous. “Would you two stop flirting and be serious?” He folded his arms and looked irritated.

  Yep, Vincent thought. Definitely jealous. Granted, it would be easy to be jealous of someone like Alexander with his smooth and charming nature and pyboy ways that seemed to make every girl’s heart melt in his presence. It made him think of this kid named Tyler in middle school. He was a looker and a charmer, and he knew it. So did the girls he flirted with, and they were all into him. He dressed well, had perfect hair, lots of friends, and all the girls seemed to want to be with him, and the guys wanted to be him. Alexander was the same way.

  “I’m always serious,” Alexander said without blinking or looking away from her.

  “So am I,” Mizuki said, standing tall and staring back, the flirting tension becoming palpable as neither of them would back down.

  Max did something stupid, and stepped between them, physically grabbing Mizuki by the shoulders, and shaking her. “He’s not your type, Mizuki, snap out of it.”

  Mizuki glowered at Max. “I’m not flirting, Maxamillian.” Her tone was that of a scolding mother, her toothy grin devious as if wanting to destroy him. Max fell on his butt and looked up at her like a sad little brother might after being bullied by his big sister. “Stop being so jealous.” She looked taller, meaner, and angrier with those fiery eyes and arms folded over her rge chest.

  He looked like he might cry. While Vincent was no dies’ man, this certainly was not a good look for Max, especially if he wanted to win Mizuki’s heart, which he surmised was his ultimate goal. Still, he was a good guy, even if he was preoccupied with inappropriate and naughty things.

  “I’m not jealous of him,” Max said with a pout, smming his hand against the ground, looking like he was going to throw a tantrum. “And don’t call me that name. My name’s Max.” He puffed out his chest, trying to look cool, even though he looked anything but as he sat there, pouting like a, well, child. “Also, I can flirt as good as any guy at this school.”

  Mizuki’s smile warmed, and she ughed. “Yeah, okay smooth guy.”

  As he brushed himself off, Mizuki tried to help, and he spped her hand away, jutting out his jaw in a pouty motion. “I can do it myself.”

  “You’re a big boy now,” Alexander said in a way as if not able to help himself. Max glowered at him. “Well, dies and gentlemen, I’ll see you back in css,” he said with a wink and wave as he turned to leave, most likely to go flirt with some girls with the time they had before next css began.

  Max frowned, watching him go with cautious eyes, grumbling under his breath. “He’s nothing but a pyboy.”

  “Leave it alone, Max,” Mizuki said in a stern, sisterly voice. “He’s not your enemy.”

  “Anyone that likes you is my enemy,” Max blurted out, while a second ter realizing he had let that slip and gave a look as if to say oh, crap.

  Mizuki narrowed her eyes but let this one slide. And Max looked relieved, even if he also looked like he wanted to push things further in that area.

  Isabel rolled her eyes, as if still infuriated with his idiocy.

  “Wouldn’t that make you your own worst enemy?” Vincent asked.

  They all paused, exchanging looks, then burst into ughter.

  It was really nice having a group of friends, Vincent thought as he ughed with them. For once in his life, he was feeling pretty good, happy even.

  “Whelp,” Mizuki said, stretching her arms over her head and pushing her chest out, knowing full well that Max was gawking. “I’m gonna go grab an orange soda from the vending machine. See ya’ll back in css.” As she made her leave, Max stared at her backside a little too long.

  Vincent found himself looking as well, feeling his palms get sweaty, his cheeks hot, and his heart thudding in anticipation with the thought of wanting to run after her, and pounce. Was this feeling his hormones, or something dealing with his werewolf being? I mean, he knew all about sex and all that crap. He had explored online, come across steamy pictures and videos. He had even had the “talk” about life and reproduction with his parents, even going through an awkward health css in middle school he often wanted to forget that involved things like procreation and other stuff. While Mizuki was sexy, he wasn’t into her, right?

  He licked his lips, thinking that this throbbing feeling and heat had to do with his Beast Mind. And the thoughts he was having felt… perverted, even if only part of him thought that.

  That was until he noticed Isabel glowering at him. When he turned to her and tried to make a motion with his face and body as if to say it was a mistake, Isabel simply turned her chin up and away from him, crossing her arms in an angry huff as she said, “You two are pathetic, you know that? You’re animals.”

  “You’re right about that,” Max said, wrapping his arm around Vincent in a friendly manner as he let out a howl as if imitating a wolf. “Awooooo!”

  Vincent pulled away from Max, reaching out to try to do damage control, but it was already too te, and Isabel was stomping off toward the school.

  “Dude,” Vincent said in a defeated voice as his shoulders slumped. “Why’d you do that?”

  “What?” Max said with a clueless shrug and smile. “It’s only nature to let your inner beast out and accept the reality of what fine dies do to us, right?”

  He really was clueless. It wouldn’t do any good for Vincent to say anything more, as he had already dug a hole for himself. It wouldn’t help letting Isabel know he wasn’t into Mizuki like that… right? It was just his me male hormones, he could plead. Or his stupid Beast Mind or whatever. He had no clue as this was all new to him. These feelings, this supernatural being, this way of life. Wouldn’t do a lick of good. Yet, why didn’t he have those pounding, pouncing feelings with Isaebel? She was cute, attractive even, but… why not with her? When Alicia entered his thoughts, though, his mind went wild.

  Alicia was another thing entirely, but he had to shake that off right now, or he would have to hide an embarrassing sight in the crotch area of his pants, so he pushed all those thoughts out of his mind as he didn’t want Max to notice or say something silly and stupid like he usually did. And he had a sinking feeling that Isabel was angry because she knew he thought about her sister like that too, which definitely pced him in the doghouse.

  “Gahhhh,” Vincent said, messing his hair up with his hands in a frustrated manner.

  “You know,” Max said, pulling out his phone to take a photo of Isabel’s backside. “Isabel’s kinda spicy herself.”

  While what Max usually said, and did, could be brushed off, this time Vincent was fed up with it and pushed Max’s phone down as he gave him a look. “Don’t be a creep, man.”

  “Ah, why’d you do that?” he said, gncing as his phone with a frown. “You’re no fun, man.” He then scurried away, mumbling something to himself about getting a better angle.

  Vincent just watched him go, shaking his head in amazement at the kid, then shoved his hands in his pockets as he also made his way to css, thinking, and worrying, about way too many things at once.

  .   .   .