Roundhouse kicks and weaponized lunch trays aren't the only way to take down bullies in the cafeteria. Sam's POV, third person limited.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Karate Kid or Cobra Kai. I'm not making money from this. I'm just a fan.
Chapter Five:
No Such Thing as Free Lunch
Sam sifts her fork through oil and vinegar, wrinkling her nose at soggy gray iceberg lettuce and tomatoes so freezer-burnt they're discolored white. She takes a bite and regrets her meal choice. At least with the sloppy Joes, you have the beauty of not knowing what you're eating. When she was little, her mom had wanted to put her in private school, and while Sam's glad her dad insisted she go to West Valley like a normal kid, she can't help but think her mom had a point about the food.
"Sam, you don't need to lose any weight," Aisha says bluntly. She jabs her fork into a chicken nugget, takes a bite, makes a face, and puts the rest of the nugget back on her plate.
"Trust me," Sam groans, "if this food were edible, I'd be eating it."
Aisha takes a considering look at the limp leaves on her plate, and decides she believes her. Which is a relief, because Sam doesn't entirely deserve Aisha's trust. She's grateful she has it, though.
She looks at Aisha, a long look, and feels her heart clench. She's still frustrated with herself and dealing with random pangs of guilt for everything she did last school year. Or more accurately, everything she didn't do. Every time she avoided her in the hallway. Every time she made excuses for why she couldn't hang out. Every time she didn't say a word or even give a look when Yasmine made a nasty comment behind Aisha's back.
She's not going to be that girl anymore. She's promised herself that if she sees an injustice, she'll speak out. No matter the cost.
Looking back, it had been gradual, one small exception to her morals leading to the next, until she could justify standing next Yasmine as she sent a nasty meme to the entire school humiliating her former best friend. Maybe it had seemed sudden to Aisha, that one summer Sam had up and disappeared, but if Sam's honest with herself, it had started the year before. The year she decided she couldn't stand being chubby anymore. The year she decided she was sick of being overlooked by the boys, even more sick of being overlooked by the girls who were looked at by the boys. Sick of being the girl whose only use was to copy her homework. Sick of no one remembering her name except the teachers.
That year, she'd promised herself she was going to be cool no matter what.
Sam had lost forty pounds, so much weight that she'd reached her goal – visible hipbones and a thigh gap. And when it started getting too extreme, Aisha was the only one who'd said something. Her mom was just glad they were bonding over Soul Cycling and was too busy to notice, and her dad had been so skinny when he was her age, he thought it was normal. But Aisha, she'd been genuinely concerned, and it was that exact concern that pushed Sam further away. She hadn't wanted Aisha holding her back from who she wanted to be, hadn't wanted Aisha constantly reminding her of who she actually was: an overweight nerd who talked way too much about Legolas, whose best story was about her Rube Goldberg project, who had never been asked out and probably never would be.
The moment Yasmine had started paying attention to her, there was no going back. Yasmine's nastiness only made her crave her attention more – she had to be doing something right if the meanest girl in school found her important enough to be nice to.
It's strange how hunger and discipline can become addictive, if you let them. She's healthier now, but Aisha watches out for her just in case. She doesn't deserve Aisha's forgiveness, but she accepts it.
"The french fries aren't too bad," Aisha says, and dumps half of hers on Sam's tray.
"Thanks." Sam takes a bite and nearly chokes on it.
Because at that exact moment, Miguel limps past their table. He's been out of school for four days. The swelling's gone down in his eye and the blue has faded to green and jaundice yellow, but there's no mistaking he took a hit to the face. He takes a seat at his usual spot a few tables over, between Dimitri and Hawk. Moon's touching the blue spikes of Hawk's mohawk and laughing about something.
Her stomach is churning at the sight of him hurt. Miguel was a jerk to her in the end, but seeing him so vulnerable a few nights ago sharply dispelled any lingering anger she'd still held onto. In fact, it made her mind replay everything that had happened last spring on repeat.
If she's honest with herself, she's thought it over a thousand times before he'd shown up at her door looking like Rocky at the end of a movie. Because with Kyler, it was all a front, but with Miguel, she constantly doubts whether or not it was. Miguel was the boy who was so dorky he wasn't afraid to bring her to a kiddy place like Golf n' Stuff on a first date. He made references to lame dad rock like it was the coolest music in the world. He did well in school and didn't act like it came easy. He'd read Lord of the Rings and thought Gimli was a badass. (They'd actually had a fifteen-minute argument on the scouring of the Shire.)
Miguel hadn't even make a move to kiss her. He'd let her decide when to make the first move. She'd liked that best of all. He wasn't like Kyler, who didn't listen to no, who knowingly pushed past her comfort zone, who'd ruined her reputation when he didn't get what he wanted. Miguel had seemed so genuine. And then he'd gone and gotten wasted, falsely accused her of cheating, and instigated a fight with Robby which ended up with her at the other end of his hit.
He hadn't mean to strike her. But he'd meant to strike first. And that was enough.
Yet, if she's being completely fair, she had done to him exactly what she'd done to Aisha. She'd hurt him by being passive. Hurt him by not sticking up for him. If she'd only told her parents she'd been dating Miguel in the first place, the misunderstanding wouldn't have never happened. She's not responsible for his violent overreaction, but she is responsible for her part.
She wonders, maybe, if her complete rejection of him was a knee-jerk reaction. A reaction more to what Kyler had done, to what she expected all guys to do, to how mistrusting she was of Cobra Kai, than to Miguel's actual actions. Which weren't great, not by a long stretch, but…he'd tried apologizing at the tournament. She hadn't been ready to listen, though. And then when he'd gone and behaved so viciously in the final fight after she'd left, well, that confirmed everything she'd needed to know.
She catches him looking at her sometimes, in the hallways, in AP English, but he always averts his eyes when she looks back, like he hadn't realized he'd been staring.
"You can stop staring now," Aisha says.
Great. Now she's the one doing it.
"Right. Sorry." Sam shoves a french fry in her mouth, forcing herself not to look at him. "Poor Miguel," she eventually whispers.
Aisha raises an eyebrow at that.
"What?"
"Nothing. Did I say anything?"
"Your eyebrow said something," Sam jokes half-heartedly.
Aisha smiles, but it's just as forced. She blows raspberries and pushes away her tray.
"What's the matter?"
Aisha shrugs. "Just feeling like a complete dick is all."
Sam really doesn't love the language Aisha's picked up at Cobra Kai, but she's not going to complain, not when things between them are still fragile. "Why?"
"See Miguel's eye? That was me."
Sam's heart skips a beat and she suppresses an irrational urge to slap Aisha across the face. She takes a deep breath and tries to calm down.
She doesn't have a right to be protective of Miguel. They're not even friends.
Robby had told her that Kreese had goaded some of the Cobra Kai kids into beating up Miguel. (And then she realizes, rather guiltily, that this is the first she's thought of Robby all day. She'll think about that later.) Technically, Sam should have guessed Aisha was a part of it, but it'd never crossed her mind. Aisha is the girl who dressed as a chemical compound for the Halloween dance. The girl who sang Love Is An Open Door with Sam at sleepovers, even though they were twelve and probably too old for it. Aisha, for all the ways she's changed in the past year, is not a bully.
Aisha huffs. "I knew it was wrong when it was happening. I knew we were pushing it too far. I decided to get one good punch in so Kreese wouldn't know I was holding back. But that was weak. I should've done something. I should've stood up to him." She pushes back her chair as she stands. "I'm going to go say sorry."
"I'll come with you." Sam's standing before she realizes she's made a move. Aisha cocks her eyebrow again, and Sam blushes. They head toward the other lunch table in tandem.
o - o - o - o - o
"Yo." Hawk gives them a lazy nod of his head without actually looking at them. His one arm is slung around Moon and his other hand is busy fiddling with his phone. "What's up?"
On the other side of the table, Miguel drops his forehead into his palm. "Hey," he says to the table. His food has gone largely uneaten.
Sam fights the urge to turn and run away. He obviously doesn't want them there. But if Miguel and his sensei are joining Miyagi-do, they might as well get used to spending time together.
Aisha takes the empty seat next to Moon, directly across from Miguel, and Sam's left standing there awkwardly. There's an empty chair between Miguel and Dimitri, but there's not enough room to squeeze by either boy and sit. At the same time, they both make a move to change seats, and smack into each other.
Sam turns bright red. In fact, all three of them do. She ends up next to Dimitri instead of Miguel, thankfully, and across the table from Hawk.
"So what brings you lovely ladies to our private chambers?" Dimitri says, his voice sardonic as always. "Here for the view?" He gestures grandly to the bathroom doors beside them.
Aisha gets right to the point. "Actually, I'm here to apologize. Miguel, I was an asshole. That went way too far and it's never going to happen again."
Miguel brushes his hair back, even though it wasn't in his eyes. "It's fine," he says quickly. "Water under the bridge." His eyes shift sharply to Sam and then back down again. "What can I say?" he jokes. "You pack a good punch."
"I'm pretty sure there's a lunch packing pun in there somewhere," Dimitri says, until he interrupts himself with the realization: "Wait! You did that to him?"
Aisha ignores Dimitri. "It's not fine. I talked to Sensei Lawrence, and I'm leaving Cobra Kai too. Just so you know, a lot of us are. I wanted to tell you in person that I'm sorry. Hawk, what about you?"
Hawk yawns, loud and obnoxious, and looks up from his phone. "Sorry, I was playing Candy Crush. What were we talking about?"
"You were about to say sorry to Miguel," Aisha says, in the voice of a mom whose children don't dare give lip.
Hawk gives the table a smug grin. "Oh yeah, that's right. Miguel. I forgot about how we beat the shit out you. How's your dick by the way?"
"Oh my God, Hawk! Gross!" Moon exclaims with an uncomfortable giggle. She slaps him playfully across the arm.
"I don't see why my dick is any of your concern," Miguel replies through clenched teeth.
Sam feels her heart drop to her stomach and she clenches her teeth, too. The beating was worse than she'd even guessed.
"Eli – you kicked him in the balls?" Dimitri asks beside her, his mouth literally dropping open like an appalled old lady. "Hold up, hold up," Dimitri says, holding out his hands like a cartoon policeman calling stop! . "I'm misunderstanding this, right?"
"Don't be such a bitch, Dimitri." Hawk shrugs. "It's just part of our training. But it looks like these two are too pussy to handle the real Cobra Kai."
Moon shakes her head indulgently. "Guys are so crazy, aren't they?" she says to Sam with that airhead voice of hers, like Sam would understand.
"No, Moon," Sam snaps, frustrated. "This isn't boys being boys. It's assault."
"Typical female. Always valuing safety over freedom. It's why they shouldn't be allowed to vote."
"What the fuck?" Aisha says.
"Moon agrees with me." Hawk nudges his girlfriend with his elbow.
Moon looks around at the table, uneasy and on the spot. "Oh, I don't care about politics," she says, trying to please them all at once. "It doesn't matter to me."
"See what I mean?"
Sam shakes her head and narrows her eyes at Hawk. "You disgust me. And if your idea of freedom is the freedom to hurt whoever you want, however you want, without consequences, yes, we have an issue. What you did was assault."
"You know, your precious Miguel could've gone to the cops if he had a problem with the way we treated him. Hey Miggy, why didn't you go to the cops?"
"Just drop it, Hawk. I'm not in the mood." Miguel's arms are crossed tightly over his chest and he's glaring at Hawk, but Sam can't tell if it's an aggressive stance or an insecure one. Probably both.
"Oh yeah, that's right. Your family's not here legally, so you can't go to the cops. And meanwhile, my dad's tax dollars are paying for your reduced lunch. America. Gotta love it."
"Jesus, Hawk. Stop being a dick." Aisha reaches behind Moon to smack the back of his head.
"I'm just pointing out the truth." He sticks his tongue out at Aisha, like it's all a big joke.
"Dude, Eli, you're Jewish." Dimitri sounds shocked. "I thought the whole Pepe alt-right schtick you've been on was ironic. Are you joking? Please tell me you're joking. We've been best friends since third grade –"
"First of all, you don't have to be a race realist to acknowledge the alt right makes some good points. Second, look at yourself," Hawk says. "Still whining. Still wimpy. Still depressed. Still thinking grades are all that matters in life. Still blaming everyone else for your problems, sitting around waiting for someone to save you. Meanwhile, I can defend myself. I've improved myself. I'm fucking the hottest girl in school. Right babe?"
Moon gives him a smile that's more of a grimace.
"Dimitri, I'm telling you this because I'm your friend. Whose ideology do you think is working out better for him, huh? Just let me know when you're ready to step out of the hole of self-pity you've dug for yourself and I'll be there, man. I haven't given up on you."
"I told you about my depression in confidence," Dimitri hisses, his face red, his shoulders pulled in as he looks in shame to the girls at the table, whom he barely knows. Despite how obviously horrible Hawk is, Dimitri still manages to sound hurt and betrayed.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did the truth trigger you? Do you need a tissue?"
"He doesn't need a tissue, you need empathy," Sam grinds out. She's shaking in righteous anger.
"Right. Just like you had so much empathy for us when you were popular. Can't handle it when the tables are turned, can you?"
Sam swallows. "I didn't. You're right." Her eyes flicker to Aisha. "And I'm sorry." She turns back to Hawk. "But this isn't about me. It's about you. And you're not going to talk to us like that. You're never going to touch Miguel again. Do you hear me?"
She standing now, leaning over into Hawk's personal space, her arms spread out across the lunch table.
"Sam, I don't need you to stand up for me," Miguel mumbles. Sam knows that even if Miguel wanted to fight (which he probably does), he's in no condition to do so. She's going to make sure he doesn't need to.
Hawk throws his head back and laughs. "What a cuck."
"I'm sorry, did you not hear me the first time?" Sam shouts. "Don't speak to us like that."
"What are you gonna do about it? Come on, princess, hit me with your best shot. I'll even let you get the first blow. It's only fair since you're a girl." He sticks his chin out.
Sam shakes her head, boiling with anger but refusing to let it take control.
"See, that's where you're wrong. I don't need to hit you to take you down. All I need to do is this."
She snaps back her chair with the back of her knees, pivots on her toe and walks away. In under a second, three more chairs scratch against the cheap, mop-stained tile floor.
A moment later, there's another scrape, and Moon's jogging to catch up with them.
o - o - o - o - o
The first warning bell has rung and Sam and Miguel are loitering in the hallway. Sam's holding her Calculus textbook close to her chest and Miguel's hands are tucked into his jeans pockets, wrists bent. Students are pushing past them, hurrying to get to class.
"I appreciate what you did back there," Miguel starts, biting his lower lip and bobbing his head up and down – he's nervous. "But I can fight my own battles."
"I know you can," Sam agrees. "But I have your back, anyway. Like you did for me with Kyler."
"Yeah, I guess so." He pauses. "Thanks."
It's September, and this is the most they've spoken since late May. Sam feels a lurching in her heart, like she has to fill up the empty space between them with as many words as possible before he turns and walks away. Before they spend another four months estranged. "We're going to be seeing a lot of each other, now that you and your sensei are with Miyagi-do. I just… I don't want there to be anything bad between us anymore."
"Me either." He pushes a hand through his hair and it falls back down, half-covering his bruised eye. "I…I'm really sorry for what happened at the party. I've been meaning to apologize for a while. It was the first time I ever got drunk, or was even at a party, actually, and I was acting stupid. I know drinking's not an excuse, but…anyway, I'm sorry."
Sam squeezes her textbook more tightly against her, and the pressure is comforting. "It's okay."
"It is?"
She nods. "You tried to apologize before, but I wasn't ready to listen. For what it's worth, I'm sorry I didn't tell my dad about you. I kept procrastinating because I didn't want him to freak out about me dating a Cobra Kai. I should've told him right away."
"That's why you didn't tell him about me?"
"Why did you think I didn't tell him?"
"Nothing. Never mind," Miguel says, too quickly. "It's stupid."
"No really, Miguel. What else could there possibly be – "
Miguel shrugs and turns away from her, so he's half-facing a flyer calling for West Side Story auditions in the school auditorium. Sam's heart drops down to her stomach, because suddenly, just from how he's standing, she knows what Miguel is going to say before he says anything.
"I thought maybe, I don't know, you were ashamed of me. Because I'm from Reseda…" He shrugs again. "I mean, you guys have seasonal Lakers tickets. Your dad owns car dealerships and I still ride the bus to school…"
"You thought I was ashamed of you because you're not rich? How could you even think that?"
"What was I supposed to think? And then you ignore my texts and show up to the party holding hands with some rich, hot white dude. I know the truth now, but, at the time…"
She wants to yell at him, she's so frustrated. How could he believe she could be that shallow? She thought they'd had a connection. That he understood her. That he saw more in her than a hot, dumb Valley Girl with a rich daddy. It stings. It stings all the more deeply because, with the "friends" she was hanging out with when they met, Miguel'd had every reason to assume the worst about her.
"My dad grew up in Reseda, Miguel. He would never hold that against you. I wouldn't either."
A silence weighs between them, and Sam can't tell if it's good or bad. She feels like she's seeing him again for the very first time. Seeing that his home and his background aren't some random facts about him, but a part of him, a part of him that makes him view the world differently than she does. And maybe he's seeing her that way, too.
"You know, we really need to improve our communication skills," Sam jokes. It falls flat, but Miguel gives her a crooked smile anyway.
"I'm sorry. What did you say? I wasn't listening."
Sam smiles back at him, and Miguel's crooked smile evens out into something almost real.
The bell rings again, and they're officially late to class. "I should go. I'll see you at the dojo tonight."
Miguel kicks back his foot against the wall and Sam flushes at the sight of him leaning against it, looking so cool. "See you then."
As she walks away, she's shaking her head, mentally cursing herself for the mess she's suddenly found herself in. Because she still has feelings for Miguel. In fact, she doesn't think she ever actually stopped. She'd been too stubborn and angry to recognize her own emotions.
What is she going to tell Robby?