Path to Secrecy

A lesson

Driving home in the unfortunate events of traffic turned out to be one of a kind. A street boy decided it worthwhile to splash water over the windscreen of my car and started cleaning once I'd stopped at the traffic light, leaving soapy over the bonnet. Despite my warnings to not come an inch closer to my car, another decided to stick an advertisement paper over it, adding the cherry to the cake. But lucky enough for me, the advertisement came as the surprise I was hoping to come across before leaving my home in Ottawa.

To join a boot camp class.

"Hello how was your day?"

I caught the robotic question from standing in the garage so suddenly it made me stop and double check Claretta's humanity. She shuffled past the garage door where I worked hard at removing my heels and massaging my toes against the entrance mat. With a basket full of neatly folded bath towels, she stopped with jerky movements once she'd studied the state of my car, resting in the garage.

I followed her trail of sight and rolled my eyes, looking back at her. "Long story." 

She arched a brow at me while I stalked past her and up the stairs, leaving behind the heels. It was a silent gesture that I hated the footwear but I would probably hear an earful about which designer brand it was from and how expensive they were to allow it lying carelessly in the garage. Dumping my bag on my bed, I walked in the closet and pulled out a plain grey shirt and black sport shorts. Slipping on a pair of runners and re-doing my ponytail, I sauntered out with a small gym bag and the paper in my hand before finding Lela dusting the hallway table with fake flowers in a vase. "Hey Lela."

She spun around with a look that was similar to a deer caught in headlights and I laughed while adjusting the bag on my shoulder. "When Andrea comes home, which will be in like fifteen minutes, just let her know that I went out and will probably be home in a couple of hours."

It was pointless sending my mother a text message. Knowing her, she'll go off rampage and then check her phone after everyone copped her wrath. Lela nodded her head quietly and I smiled at her, ruffling her hair before strolling out the front door. The location happened to be a block away and I grinned when the stadium sized field came into view. 

Marching my way over, I observed the sidelines of where the tree trunks were modified into seats, currently consisting of some flirty teenage girls scrutinizing a group of well-built young men who were performing combat training. A few females were also present amongst the trainers and I shrugged at the mere thought of not being the loner, quietly strolling to the empty log. My eyes glued onto a tall looking coach with a whistle chain around her neck and a messy ponytail tied behind it, passing a basketball between her hands.

"What. Is that?" A slurry whisper beside me erupted and I turned to find the two teenage girls eyeing the coach who was training the pupils with a moderate combination of push up - spin - sit up. Sitting under an oak tree creating a shadow over me, I twisted my head around to not become part of their conversation.

"That's coach Trudell." Another whispered with an awful giggle and long blonde hair. I was close to hoping a bird plopped an accident over them before carefully memorizing the combinations the coach was tossing out for the students to do.

"You mean Matilda's worst enemy in disguise."

I eyed the motivated Coach who studied each student like an x-ray image validating the reason for her missing slice of chocolate cake. I raised my eyebrows at her discipline methods and folded my arms, observing the type of exercise routine she put together against the tracks and monkey bars extended a metre between each. She was great, there was no lie about that. "Yep, she's definitely searching for her stolen goods."