by John Corr
Before he even hit the floor, the boys took off, laughing as they ran. Zack flew right past me, but Dion stopped. He looked surprised.
“Riley!” he said. “I almost didn’t recognize you without your white pajamas on!”
I looked nervously at the sales guy. It seemed he had decided to pick up all the cases instead of chasing the boys.
Zack was already long gone. Dion looked back at the salesman too. “Better get out of here, Ry!”
I hesitated. “Maybe we should help…” Dion grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the store.
Dad looked up from his phone. His eyes were glazed. I knew that expression. He was somewhere else, considering the ideas bouncing around in his head. His eyes passed over us as Dion pulled me along with him. Dad looked back down.
Right away, though, he looked back up. I saw him blink as his brain checked back into reality. Just as we were passing, he reached out. He grabbed a handful of my T-shirt, yanking back as Dion pulled me forward.
I was impressed at how strong his grip felt. Maybe he should try aikido!
I nearly flew off my feet. Dion did fly off his feet, his upper body jerking backward while his legs still ran forward.
Zack poked his head out from behind a pillar. “Riley!” he called and came out from behind the pillar. His expression turned serious when he saw Dad, still holding a fistful of my shirt, and Dion, hanging off my shirt and trying to get his feet back under him. Zack ran at us.
“Wait!” I shouted, sticking both hands out. “Dad! These are my friends! Guys! This is my dad.”
“Nice to meet you, sir,” Zack said. He stuck out his hand for a handshake.
Dad didn’t take it.
He looked from Dion to me to Zack, then back at me. “But you don’t have any friends!” he said. Then he let go of my shirt and clapped both his hands over his mouth, eyes wide open. Even he knew how much that made me sound like a total loser.
“Hey!” shouted the salesman from the gaming-store doorway. “Grab those kids!”
We looked at Dad.
“Steal anything?” he asked quickly.
We shook our heads.
“Break anything?”
Again we shook our heads.
“Then,” he said, turning, “perhaps we should go.” The four of us took off, speed-walking past shoppers and dodging little kids and strollers. We didn’t slow down until we hit the food court. “Oh my gosh!” Dad said, out of breath. He checked over his shoulder. “As the responsible adult here, maybe I should have talked to the salesman.” He looked at Zack and Dion sternly. “You really didn’t steal or break anything, did you?”
“No, sir!” they said together.
“They just kind of made a mess,” I said. “I saw it all happen. It was, like, kind of an accident.”
Dad looked like he was trying not to smile. He shrugged. “Well, I guess my work here is done.” He pulled out his wallet, opened it, wiggled his fingers, then pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. “Why don’t you treat your…friends to some fries, Riley?” he said. “If you need me, you know where I’ll be. If I don’t see you before, I’ll meet you back here in an hour. Sound good?”
I didn’t take the money right away. Dad is generous, but he has never just given me cash and sent me off on my own in the mall before.
Zack nudged me with his elbow. I looked at him.
I guessed I wasn’t really on my own this time. I took the cash.
Dad spoke again to the other boys. “As the responsible adult, I should probably ask who you are. I mean, you look familiar. You’re from the aikido class, right?” They nodded. “Names?”
“I’m Zack, sir.”
“Dion, sir.”
This time Dad did shake their hands. “No more trouble for today, right, boys? Accidental or otherwise.” They nodded. He looked at me. “One hour.” As he turned to head for the bookstore, I saw a funny little smile on his face.
Zack put his arm around my shoulders. “Ry, your dad is very cool. I mean, we get chased out of a store, and he not only runs away with us, but he gives us money for food?” He leaned in closer, his arm around my neck now. “Any chance he wants to upgrade to an older, cooler, better-looking son?”
It was a weak insult. I knew he was joking. The words didn’t bother me at all.
I mean, I really did have other friends. We were into the same YouTube channels and video games. Some of them I only knew online. But none of them were jocks who wrestled or threw a football in the hall. We never put our arms around each other like this.
I was getting more and more used to physical stuff at aikido. But there, Sensei Rick always told us exactly what to do—when to strike, how to grab—and even how our partners should react. He always explained carefully whether the attacker should fall backward or sideways or forward. I was starting to notice that the step-by-step explanation was one of the things I really liked about aikido.
But what was I supposed to do with this?
When Zack grabbed me and leaned in, it felt too close. The Surge started to creep in. I knew I was being weird, but I felt my shoulders getting tight, and I had to fight not to shove Zack off me. It took me a second to even figure out what he had said.
What would Dion do?
Probably punch him in the privates and gouge his eyes out. I wasn’t sure I could pull that off.
Was there an aikido move for this?
I remembered Sensei Rick showing us how to get out of a headlock. He’d taught us to catch the bully’s finger and twist it, then duck backward. That would set you up to grab your attacker’s elbow, twist it and push them away.
That seemed like an okay “guy thing” to do.
An aikido thing.
Instead, I decided to risk something else altogether.
“I don’t know, Zack,” I said. My voice sounded a little too loud in my ears. “If I ever meet this kid, I’ll ask him. Until then I guess I’m stuck hanging around with you older, stupider, uglier nerds.”
Dion burst into laughter and pointed at his older brother. “Burn! You’re an ugly old nerd!”
Zack laughed too, surprised. Then he got me in a headlock. He gave my neck a quick squeeze, then let go and shoved me away. “Riley’s got some sass!” he said.
Dion was still pointing and laughing, so Zack shoved him too and pointed back at him. “That’s a burn on you, too, if you think about it! He said ugly nerds!”
My risk had paid off.
SEVEN
We got our food and picked out a table. A big box of fries sat between us. Dad had given me enough cash that we could have ordered a small box each, but Zack pointed out that if we shared a box we could get drinks too.
I couldn’t believe how cool it was to hang out with these guys. But I was terrified too. I felt like any second I might say or do the wrong thing. Then they’d realize their mistake in deciding to hang with me. Still, I was curious about something. I knew it wasn’t a cool thing to ask, but I couldn’t stop myself.
“Aren’t you scared you’ll get in trouble?”
Zack and Dion looked at each other, then at me.
“For what?” Zack asked. I couldn’t believe it. Maybe these guys were so tough they really didn’t care what they did. Or—the thought, a mean one, came up before I could stop it—maybe they weren’t really that bright.
I picked up a french fry and pointed behind me. “I know you didn’t mean to, but that was a pretty big mess you made back there.”
“Oh, that!” Dion said. He slurped his drink, then nodded. “Yeah, we’re definitely getting in trouble for that.”
He still didn’t sound bothered.
It bothered me that they weren’t bothered.
I would never be that cool.
Zack saw the look on my face and laughed. “Riley, relax! The guy who works there? That was Yianni! He’s our cousin,” he said. “He is definitely going to tell his mom, and she is definitely going to tell our mom, and we are definitely going to be in trouble.” He shrugge
d. “But nothing we can do now. So why worry?”
“But Yianni is supposed to keep an eye on us,” Dion said. He dragged a whole handful of fries through the ketchup. “And he didn’t. So he’s going to be in trouble too!” He laughed. “Yianni really is an ugly old nerd. He would have kicked us out of the store eventually. He always does.”
Zack nodded. He finished his pop and burped. “But since you asked that question,” he said, “let me turn it back on you.” Zack rattled the ice in his cup, poked at it with his straw and then pulled the straw out and pointed it at me. “Aren’t you afraid that you’re going to get in trouble?”
I could feel my ears burning. I was already feeling guilty, and I didn’t even know what he was talking about.
“For what?” I said. “I didn’t knock anything over!” I looked at Dion. “Or knock anyone over! Are you going to say I did?” I had vouched for them with my dad. I couldn’t believe that now they were going to tell on me.
“No, dummy,” Zack said, frowning. “At aikido.”
“Oh,” I said. Now I was really confused.
I mean, I did seem to kind of get in trouble at aikido a lot. It felt like Sensei Rick was always picking on me for something. Is that what they meant?
“Well, sometimes Sensei talks for too long when he’s showing us something,” I said. “It gets boring when he makes us do the same thing over and over and over.”
A couple of times, when I’d spaced out or when I really was trying hard but wasn’t getting the technique just right, Sensei Rick had said I was just being lazy. One time he even sent me to the corner for a time-out, just like a kindergarten baby. “I guess I’m getting used to it,” I said, trying to copy Zack. “Sensei doesn’t like me. But it’s out of my hands. So why worry?”
Zack waved this off. “All of us get in trouble for goofing off sometimes,” he said. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about Wafaa.”
My ears lit right back up, faster than a Christmas tree. I still didn’t know exactly what Zack was talking about, but I knew Wafaa didn’t seem to like me much either. The friendlier I tried to be, the madder she seemed to get. She was careful never to hurt me when we were partnered up, even though she was good enough to destroy me if she wanted to. But I did worry that if she got any madder, one day she just might.
“Well, what did I ever do to her?” I asked. Obviously, they knew something I didn’t.
“You’re always making jokes about her ‘ninja hood,’” Dion said around a mouthful of fries. “You never shut up about it.”
“Those aren’t jokes!” I said. “I mean, they’re not mean jokes. I like the headgear. I’d wear it. The mats are soft, but our falls are already getting harder. I was going to say you guys should get some too. It would help you with the…” I quickly wiped the ketchup off my fingers, then gave my head a big flip and pretended to swipe long hair off my forehead.
They laughed and flipped their hair. I reached for another fry and decided to put something out there. “I don’t know if there’s a sports store that sells them in the mall, but maybe when my dad comes back, we could see about getting matching ones.” I quickly stuffed the fry into my mouth. Once I’d said it out loud, I could tell by their faces it was a stupid idea. I stared at the table, chewing like crazy while I waited for their answer.
They didn’t say anything for a few seconds. I looked up, and they were staring at me.
“You’re really not joking, are you?” Zack said.
“I was thinking we could get black ones!” I said. Just in case they thought Wafaa’s white one looked girlie. “Or not. Whatever. It’s stupid. Forget I said it.”
They looked at each other for a moment, and then Zack spoke up. He didn’t sound mean, but it was like he was talking to a little kid. “Riley, it’s not a helmet.”
“And it’s definitely not a ninja hood,” said Dion. Zack elbowed him.
“I know it’s not actually a ninja hood!” I said. “But it’s padded. It is like a helmet.” There was something I wasn’t getting.
“Yeah, Riley…but no. It’s not. Wafaa is Muslim. It’s her head cover. Her whaddayacallit.”
“It’s a hijab, stupid!” Dion said to his brother. He elbowed him back. “Don’t you know anything?”
Dion wasn’t saying that to me. But as soon as he put it that way, the Surge squeezed my stomach. I nearly threw up all the fries right there on the table.
My brain started flashing to every time I had stupidly called it a ninja hood.
Every time I had called her Ninja Girl.
My brain replayed every time I had said her “helmet” looked great and that I wanted one too.
I had meant it that time I asked her how much it cost and where she got it and if it came in different colors.
Now the look on her face made sense. It was a mad face. And just for a flash of a second, she had looked really…hurt.
Of course I knew what a hijab was!
I just didn’t recognize hers. The girls in my school who had them had these long scarves that wrapped around and around. Some of the girls wore ones that were pink or yellow or had colorful prints on them.
Wafaa’s is padded! I wanted to shout at Zack and Dion. It’s stretchy! It’s made from the same stuff as sports shirts!
The fries felt like a greasy ball in my gut.
I leaned my head on my hand.
I hated myself for even thinking it, but the thought came on strong.
Maybe I was the one who wasn’t so bright.
EIGHT
A few more classes went by. I knew I had been a jerk to Wafaa, but I didn’t apologize to her. I didn’t know what to say, so I just didn’t say anything.
We were getting to the end of June, and that meant summer vacation. Part of me hoped that Sensei Rick would shut down classes for the summer. I thought that maybe by the end of the summer Wafaa would have forgotten all about it. But when I asked Dad, he said that Sensei Rick had told parents classes would be offered as usual through July and August.
I couldn’t stop replaying all the things I had said to Wafaa about her hijab. They sounded worse and worse every time.
At home I stalled with any excuse I could think of, so I didn’t have to hang around with her on the mats before class. Dad! I can’t find my belt! Where did you put it this time? Being late to anything was one of my Surge triggers, but the idea of filling empty time with Wafaa was worse than the risk of being late.
I guessed she didn’t want to see much of me either, because she was always the first to leave the mats at the end of class, right on the heels of Sensei Rick’s flip-flops.
I threw all my nervous energy into doing aikido. Everyone had the uniform now, and we had gotten really good at doing the warm-ups all together. At each class we started by jumping up and down, back and forth, and side to side. Then we reached and stretched to one wall, then to the other. I wasn’t even tipping over anymore. Not even when we bent forward as far as we could, then bent backward until we could see the back wall, upside down, behind us.
Every movement fit into a count of eight. It didn’t matter if we were stretching our wrists—four different ways!—or spinning our bodies around like they were in a tornado. It was always to a count of eight. Sensei Rick yelled out in Japanese, “Ichi! Ni! San! Shi! Go! Roku! Shichi! Hachi!”
I put my hands on my hips and wiggled them in big circles, first in one direction, then the other. It was hard to do that one without giggling.
Especially when Joe said, “Here comes the crowd pleaser!” under his breath.
But he stopped saying it after Sensei Rick overheard him once. Sensei Rick stopped the class and made Joe do push-ups. Ten of them. One for each year of his age. I couldn’t stop giggling at Joe, so then I had to do the push-ups too.
“Riley!”
Oops. I had spaced out again.
I came back to attention, nodding as if I had been carefully thinking about Sensei Rick’s words.
“Well?” he asked.
<
br /> I bit my lower lip and looked at the photographs of the old Japanese senseis. I tried to look as if I was super close to answering his question. That would be impressive, considering I had no idea what the question actually was.
Sensei Rick exhaled loudly and looked at the ceiling. “Okay, just go with Wafaa and Joe and you three can take turns practicing the technique.”
Go with Wafaa? My stomach squeezed into a tight ball. I put my hand up.
“Too late!” he said. “You had a choice, but I had to make it for you! Wafaa and Joe!”
Zack put his hand up. “I could go with Wafaa,” he said. He blushed a little. “Or Joe or whatever.”
I wondered why Zack didn’t ask for me.
Even though he hadn’t picked me, I still thought I’d rather go with him and Dion. I put my hand up.
But Sensei Rick was shaking his head at Zack. “You and Dion can work together. You guys are so rough, no one else wants to work with you.”
Not true!
I started waving my hand and bouncing on my knees a little. I’d go with them in a heartbeat.
Wafaa elbowed me before Sensei Rick could see me. “You’re a slow learner!” she whispered. “Just do what Sensei says!”
I put my hand down and stared at the mats.
Joe pounded me on the back. “Don’t worry, Ry! We won’t go too hard on ya!”
The three of us stood up. Wafaa took charge.
“First I’ll attack Joe, and he can throw me. First from his right side, then from his left. Then, Riley, you attack me, and I’ll throw you, right and left. Then, Joe, you attack Riley, and he can throw you, both sides. Okay?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Good.”
The thing I liked about doing it in this order was it would let me watch Joe and Wafaa do the technique for the first time. I could see how the throw was supposed to go.
Plus they’d be showing me how to fall out of it. Sensei Rick had said that falling safely was the most important part of aikido. That’s why we practiced our breakfalls so much. The more techniques we learned, the more I was understanding what he meant. Different throws and pins could send the attacker flying in different directions. It made a big difference if you knew whether to fall forward, backward, sideways or straight down!
