Chapter 7

A Girl in Armor

Alan approached MCM on foot Monday morning, moving about with greater speed and less pain than he had experienced the day before. Saturday morning had been his first one-on-one Hatha Yoga class with Prunella which, despite being designed for beginners, had been challenging and left him with various interesting and conflicting takeaways. Sunday was the sorest he had ever felt, but there was a vast difference from other times he had experienced soreness. Rather than being stiff and immobile, he felt agile and energetic, and his muscles, though tender, were surprisingly pliant. He had been polite enough to humor her, but Alan did not buy into any of the chakra-balancing claims Prunella purported during her introduction. However, he could not deny the process had restorative and rejuvenating properties, or at least, the process had provided the illusion of those qualities. For an activity requiring intense focus and precision as well as a requisite amount of exertion and testing of physical limits, tranquility was buried in its depths, something he had not fully realized until it was over. As they were closing out the class together, lying in Shavasana and focusing on their breathing, Alan had been so relaxed he began to drift, only to be pulled back when Prunella spoke up, her voice sharper than it had been during class:

"Are you asleep?"

"No," Alan said thickly and as rapidly as he could manage while reclaiming his thoughts from the drowse. Feeling lazy and embarrassed, he tried to sit up, but Prunella held out a hand to stop him.

"That's okay," she said, holding back a chuckle. "I was kind of expecting you to. It happens, even to me sometimes, even after all these years. We only have about a minute or two left. You're doing great."

He had felt great. Once the class was over, Alan took time to reflect on the experience. It was as if his body had been taken apart and put back together and made better because of it. He walked taller. He felt more alert yet simultaneously more relaxed, and he paused to take deeper, calming breaths more often, something Dr. Paula reminded him to do nearly every session. Besides the soreness, which would eventually fade and gradually lessen as the weeks went on, he had yet to experience any negative effects, and it would be interesting to see what results future classes yielded.

Alan's stride shortened, and he slowed down as he mulled over these thoughts. Could it be that he was actually looking forward to his next class? He could hardly wait to share what he had discovered with Dr. Paula. He had a lot of things to share with her this afternoon—more good things than bad, which was a welcomed change, though there were some new developments that were beginning to concern him. The school's entrance grew closer, but his attention was drawn to the end of the lane, where a black limousine idled, turn signal blinking and steamy exhaust billowing in the cold morning air, likely headed back to Nouveau Lane. Muffy was already here. Subconsciously, Alan quickened his pace.

When he made it to the hall, Muffy was standing at her open locker, which was five down from his. She drew her phone from her peacoat pocket and regarded it with a forlorn expression before stowing it in her locker for the day. Her coat joined her phone, and then she began rummaging through the other items within. Something about her demeanor intimidated Alan. Walking up to Muffy now and beginning a conversation would be inappropriate, would it not? Perhaps it only felt that way because the knowledge of her private moment of sadness along with her recent peculiar behavior was beginning to weigh on him, and it was not clear how or even if the subject should be broached. Unsure of what to do, Alan went straight to his locker, opened it, and rummaged around himself, making more noise than he normally would have in order to be noticed over the din caused by other students in the hallway, eyeing Muffy in his periphery. He only looked her way when she paused to look at him.

"Ohmigod," Muffy said, flashing him a kind smile as she closed her locker and approached him. Her smile did not entirely mask her sad, worried eyes, a look Alan had become familiar with thanks to the series of sad and worrisome times they had weathered recently. "I'm so glad I made it before you. I was hoping you could do me a teensy favor?"

She fidgeted with her fingers in a showy manner, but Alan sensed her embarrassed tone was genuine.

"What do you need?" said Alan.

"So… I know we have a tutoring sesh tomorrow, but Serendipity texted me yesterday evening and—"

"Hold on. Serendipity? That's a person?"

"She's a nail tech. My nail tech; the best I've ever had. We're talking flawless, and that's why she stays booked. Anyway, with, you know, everything that has been going on, I totally forgot I scheduled an appointment months ago. I knew I would need a mani-pedi for the Autumn Ball."

"And you want to skip a session."

"Are you kidding? I don't want to miss a single one. I was just wondering if we could push it back half an hour."

"Thirty minutes?" Alan was highly skeptical of her proposed time frame.

"Yeah. Well, forty-five. Fifty, tops. Do you mind waiting in the limo and going to my house from the salon? If Daddy's home, it'll look a lot better if we arrive together. Please? It's only an hour."

Why did she look so desperate, fearful that he might reject the idea? Alan almost pitied her.

"Hey, it's only an hour," he said with a good-natured shrug. "I'm sure I can occupy myself while I wait."

Muffy's shoulders relaxed, and her mood shifted. In an instant, she eased into lighthearted and bubbly. "You're a life saver. You know, if you get bored in the limo, feel free to come in and get a pedicure, on me."

"Right," Alan said, building on her joke with a pretend scoff. "Imagine me with painted toenails."

This was better than watching her feel down.

"Not that I wouldn't pay good money to see Alan Powers sporting 'Tickled Pink'," Muffy said, giggling at the idea, "but you don't have to get polish. Lot's of people don't, both girls and guys. They go for the other benefits. And the experience."

"Experience? You make it sound like whale watching."

"I don't know about that, but it is a lot more than just painting nails. There are massage chairs and foot rubs and a warm Jacuzzi, and when it's all over, your feet feel brand new. You wouldn't believe how relaxing it is."

"Relaxing…"

Alan was not sure if Muffy was pitching him the idea, but she did make it sound intriguing, tempting.

"You get all that in one hour? Okay, you're on."

Briefly, Muffy's eyes searched his face, waiting for him to break.

"You're serious?" Her voice, as well as her expression, was a curious mix of disbelief, amusement, and hopefulness. "Why?"

"I guess I'm trying to broaden my horizons and not be so dismissive of activities that might help me relax," he said lowly. "I had doubts about yoga, but I'm glad I tried it. So I suppose the real question is: Why not?"

"I am so proud of you…" This time, Muffy's smile was evident in her eyes, but it did not last long. It would seem she had said something she found wildly offensive, and she immediately backtracked. "I mean, you shouldn't feel pressured to do anything just because it might…speed things along. You can totally make your own decisions. I'm just glad you've made a decision you feel is right for you. Anyway, tomorrow is going to be so much fun! I can't believe we're actually going to the nail salon together. Oh, you've just made my morning way, way better!"

Confusing course correction aside, Alan could not help but wonder. "Really?" he said, trying not to sound too nosy. "What made it so bad?"

He could not fool Muffy, however, for she had already plastered on her carefree smile, the armor she donned to show the rest of the school that she was a Crosswire and she was strong.

"It's just an expression, Alan."

That was a lie, Alan was almost certain, but Muffy swatted his chest playfully with the back of her hand to drive home how silly she thought his question was. Alan ignored the sharp pain that rippled through his sore pectoral as he watched her saunter toward her homeroom, her schoolbag slung casually over one shoulder. The more distance she put between them physically, the greater Alan's concern grew that his friendship with Muffy was changing, and not for the better. Post Halloween, things had seemed good, but now it felt as if a metaphorical distance were widening between them as well. She was almost too careful with him now, which made her feel colder and impersonal. Moreover, something was bothering her, and for whatever reason she did not seem able to confide in him when they had already shared so much. The situation was becoming increasingly confusing and disheartening. Alan's bond with Muffy was one of the best things that ever happened to him, and the thought of growing apart from his friend, his ally, was scary. He had to find a way to prevent their friendship from slipping through his fingers.

To be continued…