Broken Beautiful Hearts(51)

“That means hit, right?” Tucker asks.

“Yeah. There are three parts of the body that are vulnerable on everyone: the eyes, hitting the nose up toward the bridge, and right here.” He touches the hollow at the base of his throat. “If you strike any of those places with the heel of your hand, you should be able to stun the person long enough to take off—if the hit doesn’t take them down completely.”

Tucker looks at the heel of his hand. “What if I don’t hit them hard enough, or in the right spot?”

“The nose is the easiest target. But you have to strike in an upward motion, like this.” Owen demonstrates the move in slow motion, raising the heel of his hand up to Tucker’s nose as if he’s going to hit it. “There are a lot of nerves in the nose, so if you hit someone there, it hurts like hell and it will make their eyes water.”

Tucker still looks unsure.

Owen motions toward him. “Try it.”

Tucker performs the same movement, thrusting the heel of his hand upward until he reaches Owen’s nose. “Like that?”

“Exactly like that.”

He walks Tucker through the move over and over, explaining each step.

The first few times, Tucker’s aim is off or he executes the strike incorrectly. With each failed attempt, he appears more dejected. “I’ll never get it right.”

“Try again,” Owen says, sounding like Cutter issuing instructions.

“I’ve already done it ten times,” Tucker complains.

“And we’ll keep doing it until you get it. So are you going to try again or quit?”

“It’s bad luck to give up in a boxing ring,” Lazarus says.

“That probably only counts if you’re a boxer,” Tucker says.

“It counts no matter who you are,” Lazarus says. “A ring is for fighting, not quitting. Sometimes you fight with your fists and other times you fight with your will.”

“Come on.” Owen gestures for Tucker to try again. “Stand up straight and concentrate. Visualize the move before you do it. See yourself executing each step.”

“Okay.” Tucker moves with more determination this time and shoves the heel of his hand at Owen’s nose.

“That’s it, kid,” Lazarus calls out. “Like David and Goliath.”

“I did it.” Tucker stares at his hand. “Did you see that?”

Owen nods. “Yeah, and I can feel it, too.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry!” Tucker stares at it as though he had just shot fire from his fingertips.

“We need to keep practicing, but you’ve got the hang of it.” Owen gets up and notices me watching them.

“But what if the person is someone like you, and they really know how to fight?” Tucker asks.

“If you’re not confident that you can do it fast enough, then you need a distraction.”

“Okay.”

Suddenly, I’m interested. Distracting an attacker is a solid strategy, in self-defense and sports.

Owen motions to Tucker. “Do you have a quarter?”

Lazarus stops playing chess and looks over as if he’s curious, too.

Tucker pulls at the side of his sweats. “Not on me. I don’t have any pockets.”

“I’ve got one.” Lazarus stands, takes a quarter out of his pocket, and holds it up next to the ropes.

“Thanks.” Owen takes it and tosses it in the air a couple of times.

“What are you gonna do with it?” Tucker asks.

“Watch.” Owen stands directly in front of Tucker, the way Garrett did in the parking lot at the football game. “So Garrett or some asshole is coming at you, right?”

Tucker nods. “Yeah?”

Owen tosses the coin, higher this time. It sails above Tucker’s head, and Tucker looks up, tracking it. The moment Tucker looks away, Owen comes at him with a strike and pretends to hit him in the nose.

“I wasn’t ready,” Tucker says.

The coin hits the mat between them.

“That’s the whole point. If you throw something in the air, nine times out of ten, the person will look up. That gives you enough time to make your move without them seeing it coming.”

It’s actually really clever.

Tucker picks up the quarter. “So this is my strategy?”

“Don’t knock it. It works. You can do it with anything: car keys, a pen…”

“Guess I’ll start carrying a quarter.” Tucker grins at me and leans over the ropes. “You’re Peyton, right?” Owen glares at him, and Tucker clears his throat awkwardly. “I’m Tucker. I’m a freshman at Black Water.”

“It’s nice to officially meet you.” He obviously remembers me from the parking lot. “You look pretty good up there.” I realize Owen might think I’m talking to him, and I blurt out, “Tucker.”

“Thanks. Owen is teaching me some self-defense.” He ducks between the ropes and jumps down from the ring. “But I’ve gotta go. My mom is picking me up in a few minutes. Thanks, Owen.” Tucker grabs a skateboard that’s leaning against the wall.

“You got a new board.” It’s nice to see Tucker riding again.

“Yeah.” He pulls on a hoodie. “Someone left it on my front porch yesterday. I’ll see you guys later.”