I want to think I misheard her, but I didn’t. What I can’t wrap my mind around is the fact that Liu is encouraging us to fight our way up two ropes to a beam that’s at least fourteen feet off the ground. There’s no safety net, no rules. In fact, she gave us permission to fight it out any way we need to, which, knowing this bunch, probably means a lot of martial arts moves I’m not prepared for. Stealing a cloth in the dark was one thing, but this is something else entirely. And after last night and the conversation we just had with Brendan, Charles, and Nyx, this is basically worst-case scenario.

“Boxing,” I say, and take a jab into the air on our front porch. “Or wushu.” I throw a kick.

Aunt Jo sips her lemonade with her feet up on the porch railing.

“You know defensive moves, Nova,” Dad says as he whittles away at a walking stick with his favorite knife. It’s got a silver handle in the shape of a wolf’s head. “And you know how to get out of someone’s grip if they grab you.”

I groan. “Are you kidding? Those aren’t remotely the same as what I’m talking about. You’ve taught me about knives, swords, booby traps, and survival skills”—I count the items off on my fingers as I go—“but you won’t teach me boxing? Do you hear yourself?”

“Christopher is probably scared you’ll kick his butt all over town,” Aunt Jo says, and I giggle. “Embarrass him in front of all his buddies.”

Dad tries to contain his smile, but it sneaks into the corners of his eyes. “I’ll teach you when you’re older.”

“How old?” I say.

“Eighteen,” he says, and I nearly fall off the step I’m balancing on.

“Seven years? Seven?” I look pleadingly at my aunt. “Aunt Jo?”

“Don’t use that cute face on me,” she says. “I see what you’re doing.”

“Nova,” Dad says. “I’m intentionally not teaching you how to fight.”

“Because you think I’m going to get hurt?” I say.

He pauses his whittling. “Because you already have the skills to be an excellent fighter. You’re fast and strong. You have good reflexes. You’ll pick up boxing easily. But I don’t want you to think like a fighter. I want you to think differently.”

“Differently how?” I ask.