SHADOW ON BROAD STREET

James

James was just five when his father—a spy—began training him in self-defense and taekwondo. His mother worked at the Pentagon. They lived on Broad Street in Washington, D.C.

He attended State High School as a science major, dreaming of joining the army after graduation. His father disapproved. He wanted James to follow in his footsteps—become a spy, serve the country, protect the weak.

By seventeen, James was a master of karate and every major martial art. When his dad was home, they trained every morning behind the house before school. James kept to himself—quiet in the neighborhood, silent at school.

Sandra’s parents were stockbrokers turned Wall Street lobbyists. They moved into the house directly across from James.

One morning in their second week, Sandra woke restless. She slipped out early for a walk and spotted James and his father in the backyard—locked in fierce, fluid combat. She hid behind a tree, mesmerized. James matched his father blow for blow, speed for speed.

She should have been nervous. It was her first day at State High. She hated the spotlight. At every school, eyes followed her—six feet tall, chiseled face, strong jaw, deep blue eyes, full lips, swaying hips. She knew she was beautiful. And she hated it.

That morning, rushing out the door, she crashed into James. She stumbled; he caught her.

“I’m so sorry!” she blurted. “I wasn’t looking—”

“It’s fine,” he said.

She extended a hand. “I’m Sandra. We just moved in across the street.”

“James,” he replied, shaking it briefly. Then he walked on.

“I’m new,” she called, jogging to catch up. “Know no one. You go to State High?”

“Obviously.”

“Can I walk with you?”

He glanced at her. “If you want.”

They walked in silence. Sandra’s stomach twisted. Why am I nervous? I’m always in control. But James was different—handsome, quiet, unreadable. She felt clumsy, foolish.

James was annoyed. He was a loner. Why did I let her tag along? But he didn’t stop her.

Sandra tried again. “So… what’s it like living here?”

“It’s fine,” he said flatly.

She pushed. “I saw you training this morning. You and your dad—you’re insane. Do you do martial arts full-time?”

A flicker of pride crossed his face. “Dad’s been training me since I was five. Self-defense. Taekwondo. The rest.”

“That’s so cool,” she said, genuinely. “I’ve always wanted to learn.”

They kept talking. Slowly, the ice cracked. Sandra’s warmth drew out his dry humor. By the time they reached the school gates, she felt… lighter.

“This is me,” she said. “Thanks for walking with me.”

“No problem,” he replied—and smiled. A real one. He surprised himself.

Over the next few weeks, they crossed paths more. Shared classes. Walks home. A tentative friendship formed.

Sandra’s energy pulled James out of his shell. He opened up—about training, his parents, his dreams. She listened. Really listened.

Then danger struck.

Walking home one afternoon, they found three thugs cornering a younger student behind the corner store.

James didn’t hesitate.

He moved like lightning—spinning kicks, precise strikes, fluid takedowns. In seconds, the thugs fled, cursing.

Sandra stared, mouth open. She’d seen him train. But this—this was real.

The younger kid stammered thanks and ran.

Sandra turned to James, eyes shining. “You just… saved him.”

He wiped blood from his knuckles. “Had to.”

They reached their street. Sandra stopped at her gate.

“You’re incredible, James,” she said softly. “A real hero.”

He shrugged, cheeks pink. “Just doing what needed to be done.”

But inside, something shifted.

In Sandra, he’d found more than a friend.

A kindred spirit—someone who saw past the silence, the skill, the walls.

Someone who accepted him completely.

As they waved goodbye, gratitude flooded him.

In Sandra, he had a true ally—someone who’d have his back, no matter what lay ahead.