"Chest out, stand straight... leg in attention!" Fagina barked like a drill sergeant from a war movie, pacing around me like a hawk scouting for weakness.
Her eyes were sharper than a knife, and her voice could cut through steel.
I was standing there, stiff as a plank, trying not to imagine what it would feel like to whack her with my training sword—if only Liam hadn't begged me to stay and warned me not to slap her into next week.
If I had a dollar for every time she yelled at me, I'd be rich enough to buy her a one-way ticket to somewhere far, far away—preferably a deserted island with no Wi-Fi.
"Regina! Are we training for the contest… or for the freaking military?" I finally snapped, my voice dripping with frustration.
I was pretty sure I just lost half my soul in that moment.
Emma, the angel of patience and the only sane person in this chaos, giggled and gently pulled me aside, her eyes twinkling like she had a secret joke no one else knew.
"You don't need to go through all this," she whispered, smiling so sweetly I swear she could sell ice to an Eskimo.
"Just be yourselves, and people will love you. Trust me."
I blinked, processing her words.
"Thanks," I muttered, feeling a little calmer, even if Regina was still barking orders like a crazed dog with a megaphone.
Emma's smile widened.
"See? Easy. Now, let's get you out of this torture chamber before she makes you do push-ups until your arms fall off."
Meanwhile, after Regina's marathon of intense, sweat-drenched, scream-filled training—think of it as a scene straight out of a fantasy war movie, but with more tears and less dignity—it was finally dawn.
Liam, ever the gentleman and the official winner of 'Most Overenthusiastic Trainer,' took Emma and Regina home with all the grace of a hero in a cheesy action flick.
And I was left behind, alone with my "Stupid" brother, Ethan, who was busy trying to look important but only managing to look like a confused chicken.
"So… what are you guys doing?" I asked, rubbing my aching shoulders as I eyed them suspiciously. "I was thinking we should watch anime or something."
Mark adjusted his glasses, the lenses catching the dim light as he smiled with that nerdy charm only he could manage.
"Yes, let's watch some…" he said eagerly, eyes sparkling with excitement.
Jack grinned interrupting Mark. "You guys still watch cartoons?"
Suddenly, Ethan's voice cut through the lighthearted conversation like a wrecking ball.
"Cartoons? Anime is not cartoons," he declared, puffing out his chest as if he'd just uncovered some ancient secret.
Me and Mark exchanged a quick glance, both saying in perfect unison, "It's disrespectful to call anime a cartoon."
Jake, clearly not convinced, grinned mischievously. ''Ok...Ok...ok My bad.''
"I feel Like dancing should we dance?," he suggested, winking at me like he'd just devised the greatest plan since sliced bread.
''Suddenly???''
My heart skipped a beat—probably from the ridiculousness of the moment—and I awkwardly smiled.
"Sure. Let's do it," I mumbled, already regretting my decision.
Jake hit play on the music, and suddenly the room was filled with a cheesy, slow love song, complete with overly dramatic violins.
Mark stood up, straightened his glasses, and then, with a kind of nerdy grace, walked toward me.
He gently took my hand—his palm clammy but determined—and placed it on his shoulder, right about where his collarbone met his neck.
His other hand, trembling slightly like he was about to perform brain surgery, found its way to my waist, hesitantly resting just above my hips.
His fingers were awkwardly spread out, almost like he was trying to grip a watermelon, but I appreciated the effort.
And then we started to dance.
Imagine two awkward penguins trying to waltz in a hurricane. Mark shuffled side to side, trying to look serious but clearly confused about the rhythm.
His knees buckled slightly with every step, like he was about to collapse, but he kept going because he was determined to impress… or at least not step on my toes.
Meanwhile, I was doing my best to keep a straight face while trying not to fall over from how ridiculous we looked.
I kept thinking: Why did He wants to Dance and Why does Ethan Keep glaring at me like he is ready to devour me.
Every time Mark tried to twirl me, he ended up spinning in circles like a top gone rogue, and I nearly lost my balance trying to keep upright.
At one point, he tried to be smooth, leaned in for a serious "romantic" move, and ended up gently bumping my nose with his glasses instead.
We both burst out laughing, and the awkwardness turned into pure comedy gold.
"So…," I gasped between laughs, "maybe we're better off just dancing like normal humans?"
Mark nodded, smiling sheepishly. "Agreed. But hey, at least we're the funniest dancers in the room''
"Yeah, that's because no one else is dancing," Ethan's voice, cold and deep, cut through our conversation like a icy dagger.
His tone was so annoyed, it was almost impressive.
"You can't sit in one place; you must move. Sit down on the couch now!" he ordered, seemingly just for no reason at all.
Me and Mark immediately sat down politely, trying to look as obedient as possible, though inside we were both thinking, Really?
Suddenly, Jake's phone buzzed loudly.
He picked it up and smirked mischievously.
"I'm coming," he whispered, almost to himself.
Ethan's eyes immediately narrowed. "Where are you going?" he asked, voice barely masking his suspicion.
Jake, still grinning, looked up at Ethan.
"The DG men have occupied Maple Street," he said casually, as if that explained everything. "I need to go take care of something."
Ethan's gaze hardened. "Shall we go?" he asked, glancing around for approval.
"It's too dangerous. I need you both to stay with my sister. I don't think I'm coming back," Jake said quickly, his tone urgent, before dashing outside.
"Hey, Jake, come back here! You can't leave me with them, please!" I shouted after him, my voice filled with worry.
But he didn't hear me. He drove off in a car, speeding down the street. You know how we care about him—he's family but he just the noise maker.