Karen spends her evenings and weekends re-watching episodes from her favorite mou hap videotapes: The Return of the Condor Heroes; The Legend of the Condor Heroes (a prequel), and The New Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre. She also pores over the original novels that her father delightedly fetches for her from his bookshelf. She daydreams about being a noble warrior and flying over trees, blades flashing, transcending laws of gravity, utterly unburdened by daily oppressions. Her favourite mou hap heroes are those who come from humble origins and acquire mastery through diligent practice. She finds comfort in the reliable simplicity of their stories: they suffer tragedies, they meet their sifu (sometimes the first of many), and their journey of transformation begins.

Each night before bed, Karen goes to the window and peers behind the curtain down at the street. Ever since the attack, Ricky Stokes has taken up a nightly spot by the lamppost outside her house. He nurses one cigarette for as long as he can, and when he’s finished with it, he stuffs his hands in his pockets and paces back and forth along the curb in an aimless fashion. Anyone would think he was waiting for a bus. Now and then his broad, bony face tilts up towards her window, his sunken eyes cast in shadow and his pale skin rendered a yellow-green hue by the tungsten glow of the lamp.

Karen tightens the handles on the windows before she gets into bed. Ricky Stokes could easily climb up the drainpipe to her room, but he hasn’t, not yet. She tries to imagine another version of herself, a warrior self, one with the strength and daring to strike him down. She’d take the hammer from under her bed (her father hasn’t noticed it missing from his toolbox) and knock him on his skull, or bludgeon his fingers to make him lose his grip and fall to his death. No, too much. Just paralyzed then.

One afternoon, June comes downstairs to find Karen doing pushups in the living room.

“Doing exercise,” says June, in a way that sounds more like a statement than a question. “School competition?”

Karen does five more push-ups and jumps to her feet.

“Just getting into shape,” she says.

“That’s good,” says June.

June notices that ever since recovering from her fall, Karen seems to have acquired a sudden zeal for physical exertion. She rushes through her homework to run, skip, do push-ups and situps. In the evenings, she ignores Maria’s provocations, concentrating on her exercises, using weights she’s fashioned from soda bottles filled with water.