S.W. Tanpepper's GAMELAND, Season One Omnibus Read Online Free Page B

big-boned, bordering on heavyset. He has this ruggedness about him, like he’d be a football or rugby player if they weren’t illegal sports. He looks a little familiar, but I can’t seem to place him. I think he might be in the grade below me, although I know that’s not the real reason for my ignorance. Ashley’s a grade below, too. The real truth is he’s not part of our circle, our gang of gamers and hackers. I don’t do much socializing with anyone outside of it. Not even with other hapkido students.
    â€œ Ready to spar?” Kwanjangnim asks me.
    I nod. “Yes sir.” I jump up and stand to one side so he can lead me onto the mat.
    â€œ Oh no, not me. Today I’ll be talking it easy.”
    â€œ Why?”
    He groans. “I strained my back this morning.”
    Once more I glance over at the boy. “From sparring?” I can’t imagine Master Rupert being injured by a lowly green belt.
    â€œ No,” Kwanjangnim says. His laughter is thick and contagious. His face gets a little red. “I got hurt… Actually, I strained it getting out of bed.” He rubs his back and shrugs. “I guess I’m getting old. Either that or my mattress is.”
    We both enjoy another laugh before he adds something about going in to get his implant soon. It kills the moment, leaving us standing in an awkward silence before he gestures the boy over.
    â€œ This is Sunbae Jacob Espinosa,” he says, introducing us. “Sunbae Jessica Daniels.”
    â€œ Jake,” the boy says, offering his hand. Meanwhile, I’ve bowed, so he withdraws it, even as I raise up and extend mine. Finally, we both clasp hands and bow awkwardly to each other. His grip feels weak, like he’s consciously afraid of hurting me.
    Rupert laughs at us and says, “Jake’s new to the school. His forms are really pretty good. You two can warm up on each other, but for sparring today, no kicks, okay, Jess? Just hands, hits and holds. And try to take it easy on him. He’ll be testing for his next belt in a week and we need him all in one piece.”
    â€œ Bring it!” Jake says, slipping into a sparring stance. Rupert frowns, but I return the challenge with a growl.
    â€œ Keep it clean, guys!”
    Despite the differences in our skill levels and the restriction on kicks, it turns out to be a good workout. Jake’s quick and strong, almost as good as most of the red and black belts I’m used to sparring against. But he’s also a bit top-heavy, and I’m clearly a lot more seasoned. After dropping him for the fifth or sixth time, I get him in an arm hold that he can’t escape out of.
    He calls it quits, saying he’s got to leave, but just as my grip relaxes, he spins under me and wrenches my arm. The next thing I know, I’m lying on the floor with his knee on my back and my arm twisted away from me. I can’t move.
    â€œ That was a cheap shot,” I say between clenched teeth.
    He lets go and stands up. “Sorry.”
    When I get up, I think I see a brief flash in his eyes, something powerful. I can’t tell what it is. He looks away too quickly.
    While I’m packing my gear, he comes over to talk to me. I wait for him to apologize. I’m still a little miffed by the unexpected throw, so I just grunt responses. That sort of poor sportsmanship isn’t allowed in here, and if Kwanjangnim Rupert or any of the other trainers had seen what he’d done, they would’ve given Jake a severe tongue-lashing.
    He tells me he’s only been training for about ten months, and I tell him nobody gets as good as that in such a short time, which makes him pause. I might as well have called him a liar.
    â€œ I—I guess I’m a quick learner,” he stutters. “How about you? How long have you been training?”
    I give him a good long look before telling him I’ve been at it for eight years. “Off and on,”