Rebel

Chapter 2 - The training centre

The guard at the door to the training centre frowned at me.

"Who's this?" He barked.

"My cousin, Gabriel. He's visiting from Africa and I thought it would be alright if he came to watch the boys train? He's a big supporter of the Earth clan." Ivor lied smoothly.

"He's a tiny fella, isn't he? Surely he can't be fifteen yet!"

I smoothed down my clothes self-consciously.

I didn't pass for a boy easily, but I had tried. It was dusk, which hid the fact my chest was a little rounder than the average boy. I was wearing some old clothes of Ivor's which we had found in the attic. Although I was small, I had hard muscles in my arms and legs and stomach, and I bet I was more flexible than all those warriors put together. My hair was gathered under my hat, which was jammed on tight, and I had a scarf covering my nose and mouth. A poor imitation of a boy was still better than a girl - I would be kicked out in seconds.

Mum and Dad were out for dinner, and hopefully we would be back before they even noticed we were missing. Dad would normally be at the training centre, as he was the chief of the Earth clan, but he and mum were having a date night.

"Yes, all the boys in Africa are small, but I'm strong." I butted in, eager to help. Ivor glared at me.

"He's smart too, as you can see he's picked up English in no time!" Ivor said with gritted teeth. Oops. I forgot I was supposed to speak Arabic.

The guard believed us though, fool him, and opened the doors wide. I was immediately hit by the smell of sweat, deodorant and metal. I wrinkled my nose under the scarf, but this was no time to be picky. There were about twenty men in here, ranging from fifteen to about thirty years old. Ivor brought me over to the weights machine and showed me how to use it. He set it at an easy weight first - ten pounds. Ha. I could see the man beside me was doing eighty. Still, I was here, and grateful to Ivor so I started lifting. He seemed surprised when I lifted ten pounds easily, and upped it to twenty.

"Come on! I can lift fifty!" I challenged him.

"Try the twenty pounds first, loudmouth." He teased. I lifted it with one hand, smiling at his shocked expression.

"Beating up scarecrows pays off, you know." I laughed. This was fun.

"Let's see, weakling!" Ivor heaved another thirty pounds onto the scale. I had to really work this time, but I tried not to show it, steeling my trembling arms.

"You know, maybe this could be a regular thing." Ivor chuckled, then lowered his voice. "You're pretty strong for a girl."

"Just wait until you see what I can do on the bars!" I boasted, and skipped over before remembering I was a boy and slowing to a walk.

"Me first." Ivor shoved me out of the way good-naturedly. I tried not to stumble. Just he wait. I had been practising on the bar of the well back home, which was perfect, besides the fact I would be plunged into freezing cold water if I slipped. It did help me concentrate a lot better, though! Ivor was strong, and he flipped around the bars with ease, showing off a little. Some of the other boys came to watch, which only encouraged Ivor more. It was for this strength that he was the favourite to become leader of the Earth clan once my father died. He twisted in the air and landed perfectly with a smirk at me. I stuck my tongue out at him, but I was impressed.

"Your turn, titch." Ivor gestured grandly to the bars and suddenly I was nervous. But then I closed my eyes and I was back on our farm, horses whinnying around me and freezing cold water beneath me. I opened my eyes, and propelled myself towards the bar determinedly. It was a little messy, but I managed to do some pretty fancy flips and fit in a difficult straddle catch I had invented myself. I relaxed a bit, and took a glimpse around at my audience. All eyes were on me, following my body as it spun around the bar. It was unnerving, even the people on the weights and rowing machines had stopped to watch. I got out of rhythm, and hesitated upside down for a second. My hat fell off, and my bright red hair cascaded downwards. A gasp echoed through the centre.

"She's a girl!" Someone shouted. I righted myself instantly, blushing furiously. Ivor was staring at me with an expression that was part shock, part fear. I hesitated, not sure whether to bolt for the exit or deny the claim. All boys in Africa have long hair? There are no hairdressers in Africa so nobody cuts their hair? That's when loud bangs echoed through the building. About a hundred men dressed in black, with fire tattoos on various parts of their body poured through the doorway. And they had guns.

I will post a new chapter every day, so save this story and check here tomorrow! 

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