Ivy's Tangle (Legend of the White Sword - Book 1)

Chapter 5 - Digital Princess (Part 1)

Mr. Ryan and I spent the better part of the day cleaning the gym. Everything in the big room was covered in dust and spider webs. I learned no fencing, but Mr. Ryan taught me the proper way to sweep, mop, and polish. He said cleaning was one of the few truly useful skills twenty-five years in the army had provided him.

I could have done without the lesson.

We moved the rack of swords out to an empty wall in the gym, and I thought it had a shrine-like quality. The kendo gear was lightly used, and Mr. Ryan declared it serviceable. Most of the fencing equipment was mouldy, nasty, and ancient. It went into a garbage bag. Mr. Ryan examined the punching bags for a long time before saying he'd order new ones. He said they were so old they were probably made of asbestos. I wasn't sure if he was joking. By late afternoon the gym sparkled, but we were filthy and headed off to our respective showers.

***

I was eager to ask Gran if Mr. Ryan could teach me fencing at dinner, but he beat me to it. Gran looked between us thoughtfully.

"I wouldn't want to impose on you," she said. "Young boys can be a handful, and I'm sure you have other things to do."

I held my breath. It was up to Mr. Ryan now.

"It would only be for a couple hours a day," Mr. Ryan said. "I haven't done any fencing in years, and I am trying to get back into better shape. Jack's youthful enthusiasm will inspire me. I also wanted to replace the boxing equipment, if that's all right? Some of the other gear is beyond salvaging, but I didn't want to throw anything out..."

"If it's garbage, throw it away," Gran said. "I'm not attached to any of the fitness equipment. If you find Jack isn't behaving, don't feel obligated to continue his lessons."

"I'm sure there won't be any problems," Mr. Ryan said.

Yes! I cheered silently. I'd get fencing lessons and still have plenty of time for exploring the woods and generally goofing off. Things looked good. When she spoke, it was as if my grandmother had heard my thoughts.

"That will leave you with a great deal of unscheduled time," she said.

I didn't like the appraising look she gave me.

"I'll find things to do."

"That is what I'm afraid of." Gran looked from me to Ivy and back. "Ivy is spending the summer with us to learn how things work here. I know little of computers and modern technology."

Gran wasn't kidding. I forgot to mention that there were no TVs in Gran's house. None. No cable, no satellite, no antenna. I might have died on the first day, if not for the phone line and the internet. Unsurprisingly, people don't want to stay at a place with no connection to the outside world. I'd been streaming TV on my laptop since I got there. I looked at Ivy.

"How can you not know about computers?" I asked. "Are you from Pennsylvania?"

Ivy hadn't spoken for the entire meal. Now she glared at me.

"Ivy isn't Amish." Gran said. "She's been home-schooled and has received... a classical education. As I already told you, she is here to learn of more contemporary matters. You will teach her."

"No!" Ivy and I said together—making that the first thing the little princess and I had agreed on.

"Yes," Gran said. "You will teach Ivy of computers and such. You have the only computer in the house, and I know nothing about them."

Wait a minute. I looked to Mr. Ryan, but he shook his head before I could ask.

"Sorry," he said. "My laptop can't be accessed by anyone else. People pay me not to endanger their information."

Damn.

"I can simply use the boy's computer." Ivy smiled sweetly at Gran. "I'm sure I can figure it out on my own."

Blood rushed to my head. The main reason I had no friends was the moving around thing, but I also had difficulty controlling my temper and not saying things out loud that shouldn't be said.

"Two problems with that," I said. "One, my name is Jack, not the boy, and two—I'm not letting some stupid girl break my laptop!"

"Did you just call me stupid, boy?"

Ivy's fuse was as short as mine. It's how we'd ended up turning Gran's vegetable garden.

"My name is four letters long and a single syllable. So yeah, I'm pretty sure you're stupid."

"That is more than enough from the two of you." Gran didn't raise her voice, but we both backed down. Arguing with Gran was a bad idea. You never won. "Jack will teach Ivy about computers, end of discussion. Ivy will teach Jack gardening."

"What?" Again Ivy and I spoke in unison.

"You both have too much misdirected energy," Gran said. "I will inform the groundskeeper that you will manage the vegetable garden this year."

"I'd be happy to tend the garden as thanks for your hospitality," Ivy said. "I can manage the task on my own, without any assistance."

I had nearly two seconds of renewed hope.

"How will Jack learn about gardening that way?" Gran asked.

Ivy's cute little face stared up at Gran's steely expression for a good minute before she backed down. As I said, you didn't win arguments with my grandmother.

Mr. Ryan ate his dinner and refrained from commenting. That was the first time I realised... he was smart too.

***

I had a strange dream that night. Maybe it wasn't that strange, considering that blacksmithing was one of many things I'd always been interested in, and given that I'd seen the Lord of the Rings movies a thousand times. I dreamt of a dark smithy, deep under the earth and lit only by the forge's white-hot glow. How'd I know it was deep under the earth? I just knew. Sometimes in dreams, you know stuff.

In the dream I was me, but I was also somebody else—pretty standard for dreams. Not a lot happened in the dream, and from what I could remember afterwards, it mainly involved the forging of a huge hammer head. It had a spike on one end, so it was probably for a war hammer. The whole thing was very Mines of Moria. I chocked it up to way too much Middle Earth... and the two extra servings of dessert I'd eaten right before bedtime.

***

My grandmother called my father, and the next morning five cardboard boxes of fencing gear showed up at the front door. It was white, pristine, and new. There were sets for Mr. Ryan too. After we opened the boxes on the gym's floor, he gave me a questioning look with one querulous eyebrow raised.

"My dad's super rich," I said. It was true. "This won't mean anything to him, as far as the cost goes."

"Do you ever see him?"

"No. He's really busy... with work."

"I see."

"It's no big deal," I lied with the bright smile I learned to lie with years before. "Now we can practice."

"We definitely can," Mr. Ryan said. "We'll start with stretching."

Two hours of intense exercise and drills followed. I'd hoped to spar at the end, but Mr. Ryan said it was too soon for that. I wasn't disappointed though. Somewhere in the middle of the practice, I realised Mr. Ryan knew his stuff. He said he hadn't picked up a foil in twenty years, and watching him move, I hoped I'd be as good after twenty more years of practising. Mr. Ryan also turned out to be a very strict instructor, but not a mean one, and that makes all the difference.

I left the gym exhausted and sweaty.