Lillian, Cryptologist (or Nick, Bricklayer)

Lillian stared at herself in the mirror. She felt horribly self-conscious. Her nanny hadn’t had time to alter her uniform, so her trousers were rolled up around her ankles, and the sleeves came far past her wrists and she had to keep pushing them back up. Her frizzy black hair was fraying out of the braids her nanny had woven in that morning, and she looked like a pale scarecrow stuffed into someone else’s oversized clothing.

Apart from the bearded man who’d let her into the building, no one else was there. The man - Mr. Lewis - spoke briefly to her nanny, then told her to wait in the corner until the others arrived. It was nearly a quarter to six, and she was still the only one besides Mr. Lewis at the dojo, and didn’t class start at six?

As if on cue, the door swung open. A young man strolled into the building, backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Hey,” he said easily. “You new?”

“I am,” she said. “My name is Lillian Fairbanks.” She offered a hand. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

The man’s brow furrowed, but then he shook her hand. “Good to meet you too, kid. I’m Nick. When we’re in class, you’ll have to call me Sensei Vincent.”

“Of course. I understand hierarchical authority is important in martial arts.”

“Hier-what now?” Nick set down his backpack, toed off his sneakers and kicked them into one of the cubbies along the wall next to the mirror. “How old are you, kid?”

“I’m seven,” Lillian said. “Also, I am not a juvenile goat.”

“You talk like a dictionary.” Nick tugged a pile of clothes and a black belt from his backpack and started toward the men’s room.

“I’m sorry,” Lillian said. She ducked her head. “I’m around scholars all day, and their manner of speech is typically quite pedantic, and I find it’s best to conform lest - lest they disregard me because of my age.”

Nick leaned down and peered into her eyes. “No need to apologize. It’s just different, is all. What do you do all day, that you talk like that?”

“I’m a cryptologist,” Lillian said.

Nick raised his eyebrows. “Which means in real English...?”

“A code-breaker.” Lillian tugged one of her pigtails. She saw it, the flare of surprise in his eyes, followed by understanding. She was waiting for it, the revulsion, the disgusted curiosity, but instead she saw something she’d never seen before; she suspected it was that thing called empathy.

“Cool. I’m a bricklayer most days,” Nick said. He beckoned. “C’mere. Show me how you throw a punch.”

Lillian took a deep breath. She realized this was martial arts, but she’d been raised to avoid physical violence and instead attempt to end all arguments with logic. But Nick smiled and beckoned again, and she said,

“Yes, Sensei.”

(477 words)