Karate Kick (3 page)

B
ut to Cole’s surprise — and great relief — Darren didn’t take a swing at him. He turned away.

“Aw, forget it,” the teen said. “He’s not worth the trouble. Come on, guys, let’s get out of here.” With that, he put one
foot on his skateboard and pushed off with the other. The bucktoothed kid and the one who had spit followed close behind.

Ty was about to join them when Cole stopped him.

“I — I — thanks,” he mumbled.

“No problem. What’s your name?”

“I’m Cole.”

“Well, Cole, if I were you, I’d steer clear of Darren. He may have walked away this time. But if he catches you alone…”

He left the rest unspoken, but Cole understood what he meant. If Darren caught him alone, the older boy wouldn’t hesitate
to come after him.

Once more, Cole thanked him.

Ty waved it off. “I wasn’t kidding, you know,” he said. “With your skills, I think you could’ve taken him if you were ready.”

Cole couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer. “How do you know about my skills?” he blurted.

Ty looked away. “Simple. I used to take karate.”

“You did? Where’d you train? Do you know Sensei Joe? What belt did you reach?” The questions came pouring out.

Ty didn’t answer any of them. Instead, he said, “My karate days are ancient history.” Then he stepped on his board, pushed
off, and slalomed down the bike path after the others. “Remember what I said about Darren,” he called as he went.

After Ty left, there was nothing for Cole to do but head home. As he walked, it started to rain. He pulled his hood up over
his head with an absentminded tug, too busy thinking about what had just happened to notice that he was getting soaked to
the skin.

But his mother noticed. “You look like something the cat dragged in!” she exclaimed when he entered the kitchen twenty minutes
later. She sent him upstairs to take a hot shower before dinner.

He thought about Ty’s final warning while under the warm spray. He shifted uneasily. Did Ty really think Darren planned to
come after him?

If he does,
he thought,
will I be able to defend myself?

Cole had never used karate on someone who wasn’t a fellow student. And even when he practiced it at the dojo, he sometimes
messed up — like today, when he forgot how to do the wrist grab and didn’t block well while doing kumite number three.

What if Darren attacks me, and I forget everything I’ve ever learned?

With that dismal thought in his brain, he turned off the water and climbed out of the shower. But as he toweled off, he realized
Ty had already given him the solution to that problem.

Steer clear of Darren,
he’d said.

Cole wiped a circle in the fog from the bathroom mirror and stared at his reflection.

Well, that’s just what I’m going to do! It shouldn’t be too difficult. After all, he’s gotta be in high school. What’re the
chances that we’ll meet?

He slicked his hair down with a few swipes of his comb. Then he put on a change of clothes and opened the bathroom door. Delicious
food smells wafted in, mingling with the last of the steam from his shower.

Sniffing the air appreciatively, Cole hurried downstairs to eat. By the time he reached the kitchen, he was determined to
put Darren out of his mind for good.

I have more important things to worry about,
he thought as he poured himself a tall glass of cold milk,
like practicing for my green belt test and making up a kata!

Y
ou did
what?
” Cole stared at Marty, horrified. It was the next morning and he had just run into his friend in the hallway at school. He
was usually happy to see Marty. But right now, he wanted to strangle him.

That’s because Marty had just informed him that he had invited Monique to practice karate with them that afternoon.

“How could you do that to me?” Cole fumed. “You know she drives me crazy!”

Marty held up his hands. “Before you freak out completely, just listen to why I asked her to join us!”

Cole blew out a long breath. “This should be good,” he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and fixing Marty with a
glare.

“Number one,” Marty said, “she became a green belt before we did —”

“As she loves to point out whenever she can!” Cole interrupted.

Marty lifted his eyebrows. “Will you let me finish, please?”

“Okay, okay,” Cole growled.

“Since she’s already a green belt, she knows what that test will be like. I thought maybe she could give you some pointers.”

Cole snorted. “Please tell me that’s not the only reason you’re forcing her on me!”

“No! She’s really good at performing katas, too. I figured with her help our katas for the contest might stand a better chance
of winning!”

Cole narrowed his eyes. “What makes you think she won’t give us lousy advice? I mean, come on, what’s in it for her if she
helps us with our katas? Or me with my belt test, for that matter?”

Marty sighed. “Those questions bring me to the third reason I invited her.”

“Which is…?”

“It’s going to sound lame.”

“Just tell me!”

Marty hung his head and shuffled his feet. “I feel sorry for her, all right? Yeah, she can be a royal pain, and yeah, she’s
a total karate know-it-all.” He looked searchingly at Cole. “But I remember how we all used to be friends. Don’t you?”

Cole stared at Marty for a long moment. Then he unfolded his arms. “I guess I do. But I still wish you had waited to be her
friend again until
after
the kata contest and my test — or at least asked me before you invited her to join us!”

Marty laughed. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. You’ll see!”

“Maybe,” Cole grumbled.

After school, Cole strapped his duffel bag of karate gear to his bike rack and rode to Marty’s house. He wasn’t sure if he’d
need his stuff, but he figured it was better to have it than not.

After he arrived, he and Marty went downstairs to the basement and pushed the furniture to the walls so they would have enough
room to move freely.

Monique showed up ten minutes later. “Hi,” she said, shooting Cole a tentative smile as she stowed her own bag of karate equipment
next to the sofa. “I hope you don’t mind my being here, too.”

Marty gave Cole a look. “Be nice!” the look warned.

“The more the merrier,” Cole said. He took off his socks, balled them up, and threw them onto an easy chair. Then he sat on
the floor and started to stretch. The others followed his example, and for the next ten minutes the only sound in the basement
was their breathing. When their muscles were warm, they were ready to begin.

“So, how about we work on the kata contest stuff first?” Cole suggested.

“Can’t we start with something else?” Monique asked reluctantly. “I’m not even sure the contest is such a great idea.”

“Huh? Why not?” Marty asked.

Monique raised a shoulder. “Say someone who entered made up a really dumb kata. Don’t you think it’d be a waste of time to
have to sit and watch it? Or learn it?”

Cole rolled his eyes. “Well, if you don’t want to work on the contest stuff, then what
do
you want to do?”

“Marty said you needed help with your test material,” Monique ventured. “I’d be happy to critique a few of your katas for
you.”

“I bet you would,” Cole muttered under his breath.

“What did you say?” Monique asked sharply.

Cole glanced at Marty, who gave him the warning look again. “Uh, I said, ‘That’d be good!’”

Monique narrowed her eyes as if she didn’t believe him. But she didn’t say anything. Instead, she perched on the arm of a
chair. Marty took a seat next to her. Feeling like he was on display, Cole walked to the middle of the room and faced them.

“Heian One,” Monique said primly. “Two moves at a time. I’ll call it out. And if I see a mistake,” she added, “I’ll be sure
to stop you.”

Cole locked his brown eyes with her blue ones. Then he tightened his lips and forced his eyes front. It was all he could do
to keep himself from telling her that he’d rather fail the test than put up with this!

G
o for it, man!”

Marty’s loud, encouraging cheer broke some of the tension in the room. “Give Heian One everything you’ve got!”

Heian One was the name of the first kata they had learned as karate students. Cole had once read that
heian
was a Japanese term often translated as “peaceful mind.” Cole hadn’t understood why a sequence of fighting moves would have
that name, and had asked Sensei Joe about it one class.

“It’s a good question,” Sensei Joe had responded. He had gathered the rest of the class around then so they could all hear
his answer.

“Katas like Heian One were created long ago. One of their purposes was to train students to fend off multiple opponents. In
fact, when you perform a kata next time, imagine that you’re surrounded by many attackers. If you do, it may help you give
your moves more power. Observe.”

He stepped away from them to the middle of the dojo. Then he widened his eyes as if seeing a horde of angry people coming
toward him. “Look out! The first guy is coming at you with a punch! What do you do?”

He whipped his palm across his body, a palm-heel block. “You block his blow to protect yourself, that’s what you do. And then
you
strike at
him
!”

He shot his fist out straight. “Boom! Now he’s down —” he spun around and pointed at an imaginary foe, “— but look out, here
comes his buddy up on your left! Quick, block again, then strike!”

Sensei Joe continued to shift around, throwing blocks, landing strikes, and lashing out with kicks against pretend assailants.
“Block, strike, turn!” he called. “Block, kick, strike, pivot! Use your legs to put
oomph
into your moves! Make every one count as you take care of each attacker, one after another!”

At last, he stopped. With a smile and swipe at the sweat beading his brow, he said, “Think like that, and you’ll be amazed
at how much more urgency goes into every single move. Trust me; it works!”

Then he gestured to Cole. “Now can you see why
heian
is often translated as
peaceful mind
?”

Cole scratched his head, thinking. “Because the person who knows how to do those katas knows how to defend himself — and so
has peace of mind?” he guessed.

“Exactly!”

Cole thought of that conversation now as he stood waiting to do Heian One in Marty’s basement. He made a mental note to think
of being attacked when he began.

Monique smoothed a stray red curl from her face and said, “Ready stance.”

Cole balled his hands into loose fists and held them out in front of him. His gaze was focused straight ahead, his feet were
slightly apart, and his knees were bent.

“Bow,” Monique commanded.

Cole slid one foot to the other, flattened his hands against his thighs, and bent from the waist. Then he returned to the
ready position.

“Two moves at a time,” Monique reminded him. “On my command.” She waited a beat and then said, “Step!”

Cole snapped his left fist up to his right ear, stretched his right arm down in front of him, spun a quarter turn to the left,
and shifted his feet into a cat stance — feet side by side, knees bent, left heel raised, and right leg supporting most of
his weight. Everything moved at the same time, in one fluid motion.

He paused in this position for a split second. Then he whipped his fist down and across his body — a downward block — while
sliding his left foot forward. Now he was in a front stance. His legs were shoulder-width apart, weight forward, and both
knees were bent.

Again, Cole paused for a fraction of a beat. Then, moving foot and fist at the same time, he swept his right foot in an arc
— in to his left and then out into a front stance — and punched with his right hand. Just before he finished the punch, he
twisted his fist over. If his knuckles had actually made contact with a body, the end twist would have stretched the skin
and the nerves beneath it uncomfortably tight, adding to the pain of the punch itself.

“Ki-ai!” he shouted.

“Step!” Monique called.

Now Cole brought his right fist up to his left ear. He spun around to the right 180 degrees and stepped forward with another
strong downward block.

He started to pull back into a cat stance for the next move, a right straight-in shuto, when Monique barked, “Stop!”

Cole dropped his hands and stared at her. “What? Did I do something wrong?”

“It’s not what you
did,
it’s what you
forgot
to do,” she admonished. “Go back to the straight-in punch.”

He turned around and got into position: right front stance, right arm out as if he had just punched.

“Step!”

He repeated the turn-around/downward block. She stopped him once more.

“You forgot again,” she said in a singsong voice.

“Forgot
what
?”

“You have to square off with the stretch and cat stance
before
you go into the second downward block.” She shook her head. “If you leave out that transition during the test, the senseis
will be all over you.”

“Big deal!” Cole retorted, “I’m used to that kind of treatment, thanks to you!”

C
ole regretted the words the moment he said them. Sure, he was mad at Monique for correcting him. But she was right. He
had
left out the transition — and the senseis
would
notice. Maybe it would affect the outcome of the test, maybe it wouldn’t. Regardless, he couldn’t fix the mistake if he didn’t
know about it.

But there was another reason he regretted his angry retort. From the look on Monique’s face, he knew his words had stung badly.

She slipped out of her chair and grabbed her gear bag. “I was only trying to help,” she mumbled. “But maybe I should go.”