The Hawk Warriors

II

"You know Hades skipping practice isn't a wise choice," Tyler says with a serious face. I look at the middle-aged man on the black couch and sigh.

"I can't go back there after that humiliation," I reveal to my neighbor.

Tyler leans back and eyes me carefully. "Since when do you care about what others think?" He says.

"I cared the moment I realized I suck at everything I do. I can't cook for myself, and I can't even fight properly." I sit on Tyler's wooden coffee table and bury my face in my hands.

"Hey, listen from a man who doesn't have his life together, don't give up. Even if you suck, keep at it. I gave up and now look at me! I'm thirty years old, and I'm not married. Do you have any idea how much the council is trying to persuade me to marry?" He asks me.

"Who would marry you?" I joke, gaining a pointed look from Tyler.

"I'm not interested in women nor men! All I want is booze and sleep." He says to me.

"So, I should just show up at practice late and try to prove myself," I repeat what Tyler was trying to communicate.

"Prove yourself to yourself. You're young, and you don't have to worry about anyone else." He says, patting me on the shoulder.

"Fine, but promise me you won't excessively drink tonight." I sincerely say to him.

Tyler sighs, and takes my outstretched hand. "I'll try, but it's not a promise." He says before letting me go. "You care too much for other people." He adds.

I stand up and fix my brown t-shirt. "And you care too little." I retort.

"I care about you, buddy." He clarifies with a grin.

"I'm dancing with joy at that blessing," I say, faking my excitement.

"Go to practice, and let me be gloomy," Tyler says, actually kicking me out of his apartment.

"Be a good boy Tyler." I playfully say. Tyler grumbles before slamming the door shut. I just stare at the orange door and chuckle.

Walking down the stairs, I see Hamlet flying around me. "Don't tell me you agree with him?" I say not wanting my spirit animal to agree with a drunk.

"You really need to try your hardest at becoming the best warrior. You'll only get there if you try." Hamlet tells me.

"I guess," I grumble as I clutch my bag tighter. Looking at the empty gym, I notice I was way too late for practice. Since no one is here, I decided just to walk away before someone sees me.

"Hades!" I hear his booming voice call my name. I cringe and stop walking out the doors. Turning slowly, I face an angry Mr. Lambert. His face waited for an explanation for my absence, but I had none to give. "Where were you today?" He questions me.

"I overslept coach." I lie with a smile. His eyes narrow down on me, and I knew he didn't believe me.

"Come into my office." He says, motioning me to follow him. I reluctantly follow him to the office space on the far corner of the gym. He opens the door for me, and I slip through. He sits behind his neatly organized desk, and I sit uncomfortably in a chair in front of him. In the deafening silence, he grabs a pile of folders and looks through them.

I swallow visibly and clutch the edge of the seat. He finds what he's looking for, and places the thin folder to the side. Organizing the pile once more, he takes the file and finally looks at me. "Do you know what this is, Hades?" He asks. I shake my head, and he opens it. Looking at it, I see my ID picture and documents. "This is a copy of the file the council has on you." He explains. I look at that file that I've had since I took his first breath. It documents everything that he has done: my grades in school, my birthday, how good my ability to shift is, and how strong a warrior I am, along with an attendance record that is not a great one.

"Yes, even I have one, but the attendance record is the problem." He explains to me. "You've missed many days, which can be seen by how strong you are." He says in a more delicate way of saying I suck at being a warrior. "You know it's a problem for the council. You won't be able to go on with your life if you haven't passed this course. This is your second year repeating my class. You're failing this year miserably."

"I know I'm not the best warrior in the class," I say, acknowledging my weakness.

"That is why I'm giving you a personal trainer." He says to me.

"A personal trainer?" I repeat. "No way am I going to let a frat boy train me." I protest.

A smirk formed on Mr. Lambert's face, and it left a bad feeling in my gut. "Oh no, it will be someone even better than those boys." He says with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. "You may enter!" He calls out to someone. The door clicks open, and I turn to look into the eyes of those sharp hazel green eyes. My eyes widen, and I turn to look at a pleased Mr. Lambert. "Hades meet Hazel Hawkins, your personal trainer." He says, introducing me to her.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." She says with a smile on her face. I stare at her outstretched hand before I shake it. "This is my first time training someone, so I'm excited."

"Well, I'm off to go home." He grabs his keys and pats my shoulder before stepping out. I still felt her eyes on me, and I wanted to die.

"When do you want to practice?" She asks me.

"Look, you seem like a nice girl, but I'm not going to train with you," I say not because she's a girl, but because I'm a wimp. I'll be humiliated if she beats me!

"Why is it because I'm a girl?" She asks, getting the wrong impression.

"No..." I slowly say, almost embarrassed.

"Then there shouldn't be any problem." She crosses her arms, and those sharp eyes cut deep into me.

"Fine, I'm available in the morning, but in the afternoon, I have work," I inform her. A smile forms on her tan skin, and she laughs.

"I can work with that." She takes the file Mr. Lambert has on me, but I stop her. "Can you let the file go." She asks nicely.

"This should stay here," I say, holding it away from her. She easily rips it from my grasp and grabs a piece of paper along with a pen. She skims the file and writes down my apartment number.

"I just needed your apartment number. As if I was going to steal your file." She says, almost poking fun at me. "See ya at four o'clock!" She says before walking away.

"At four?!?" I shout at her. Practice usually starts at eight o'clock. Before, I could negotiate with her the time she was already gone. She really is a different type of woman in a good way.

I walk back to my apartment, and I unlock the door. Sighing, I slam the door closed and throw the gym bag to the other side of the living room. Hamlet sits down on the arm of the brown couch and stares at me. I open the almost empty refrigerator and take out my handy milk carton.

"I want meat," Hamlet stubbornly says as he watches me pour the milk into my bowl of cereal.

"If you have the money, then go ahead. Oh, and cook it yourself since you know damn well that the council had my oven and stove unplugged." I tell him. I give him a bowl filled with bird food, and he eats it with a grudge. "Fine, tomorrow I'll buy you a nice chicken, so stop plotting my murder," I promise him.

I could feel his grudge towards my inability to cook subside. Turning on the TV, I lazily watch it until my eyes feel heavy. I mentally thank Hamlet for putting a blanket over me. Laying down on the comfortable couch, I close my eyes and dream of eating a huge hamburger.