"How was training?" Yasmin asked.
"Eventful," Amara replied. After a moment's hesitation, she added, "I think it's time I told you something. Can you meet me at my house tomorrow before school?"
The next morning, Yasmin sat on Amara's bed, trying to process what she had just heard. "So you've been training in karate since you were nine, and you're a black belt?"
Amara nodded, her dark glasses set aside, revealing eyes that stared sightlessly ahead. "I started after I lost my vision. My dad thought it would help with my confidence and spatial awareness."
"But why keep it a secret?"
"It wasn't a secret, exactly. Just private," Amara shrugged. "But after last night, that's changed."
"Last night? What happened last night?"
Amara described the encounter with Chase and his friends. As she spoke, Yasmin's expression shifted from shock to admiration.
"So that's why Mr. Bennett asked if you had martial arts training. He noticed your movements in PE."
"Probably," Amara agreed. "Trained people can recognize other trained people."
"And you really took down all three of them?"
"I stopped hiding it the moment they crossed the line," Amara said simply. "There's a difference between enduring petty bullying and defending yourself from a physical threat."
Across town, Chase sat in his room, an ice pack pressed to his bruised shoulder, replaying the previous night's events in his mind. The girl had moved with impossible speed and precision, had known exactly who they were despite their disguises, had defeated them without breaking a sweat.
His phone buzzed with a text from Logan: We need to talk about what happened.
Before he could reply, another text came in, this one from a number he didn't recognize: I know what you did last night. And I have proof.