by John Corr
I looked down. The picture of Mom was in my hand. I hadn’t even noticed that I had grabbed it. I folded it in half and shoved it deep into my pocket.
“Nothing.”
I held my breath when he didn’t say anything for a few seconds.
“Picture of Mom?” he asked.
I took a few seconds before answering. “Yeah.”
He put his hand on my shoulder, stared ahead at the road and didn’t say another word.
We pulled into the parking lot ten minutes late. Sensei Rick and the other families were already there. I silently prayed that I wouldn’t have to do push-ups for being late, right there on the asphalt in front of all the parents and the other kids.
But no one seemed to notice we were late, and no one seemed in a hurry to leave. The only kid without parents there was Wafaa. I asked Joe where they were. They had been there, he said, but had just left.
Joe’s mom and dad were a lot quieter than I’d expected them to be, considering how loud Joe is. I had thought they’d both be brown, like him, but I was wrong. His dad had much darker skin. He kept rubbing his son’s shaved head and talking to him quietly. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, exactly, but I could tell he had a bit of an accent. His mom was white. She patted Joe’s shoulder every few seconds. She didn’t look upset, but I noticed she had bunched-up tissues in her hand. I wondered if she had an accent too.
Zack and Dion’s mom flipped back and forth between wiping tears from her eyes and yelling at the boys in Greek. I got closer to Dion and asked what she was saying. He said she was pretty sure the brothers were going to get in some kind of trouble, and she was telling them off for it ahead of time, reminding them of how much trouble they’d be in when they got home.
Dad came up and clapped me on the shoulder. He pulled me in a for a big hug. “Be good! Have fun! Be safe!” he said loudly.
I saw the other kids climbing into the minivan. I hugged him back.
He looked me in the eye. “I love you, Riley,” he said. “And I miss Mom too. But you deserve to have a great time with your friends. So go have some fun!” He pulled me in for one more rough hug, then spun me around and pushed me toward the minivan.
Sensei Rick was standing at the back of the van. I handed him my duffel bag, and he tossed it on top of the pile. I turned my head and pretended to cough, but really I was wiping away a tear. It was going to be hard to be away from my dad, I realized.
I climbed in the side door and grabbed the last open seat, in the middle, beside Joe. Zack and Dion had the whole back row, and Wafaa was up front in the passenger seat.
The parents stood in the parking lot, waving as we pulled out. We waved and yelled back, and everyone’s spirit was so contagious that I soon forgot my tears.
ELEVEN
Because we were yapping and laughing so much, I didn’t notice that we had left the big highway. We passed through a small town. The space between houses grew into wide grassy lawns that I’d never seen in the city. The lawns gave way to even bigger farms. Dirt and crops filled the huge spaces between the orange-brick farmhouses. Water cannons blasted rows and rows of green plants.
We slowed as the road cut through another small town. Instead of paved driveways, most of these houses had gravel out front. A few of them had tractors parked beside family cars and pickup trucks. The yards had rough wooden fences and were decorated with wagon wheels.
The town gave way to country again. We sped up and cruised the long, curving stretches. A group of motorcycles roared past us on the wrong side of the road. Joe made faces through the window at them, and one of the riders caught him. He slowed for a second to match our speed, then pulled down the red bandanna that had been covering his face. He stuck out his tongue at us. Then he gave us the thumbs up, smiled and took off.
We shouted at every cow, sheep and horse that we passed. We pinched our noses and waved our hands and complained at their stink. After an hour or so a row of five or six giant metal windmills rose in the distance. They had long spikes for arms, which turned slowly. They looked like something that might have fallen off an alien ship.
The sunlight and all the time in the minivan were making me dopey. I almost fell asleep, but a sharp bend in the road jolted me awake. Then Sensei Rick slowed right down and turned off the highway. The van bumped along a gravel road.
We drove through a tunnel of trees with long grass on either side. Here, Sensei Rick drove super slow. He rolled down the windows and told us we could stand up and stick our hands out. We high-fived maple leaves and let cedar needles tickle our arms.
The gravel road ended at a small house. The cottage. It wasn’t as big as a city house, but it had a huge wooden porch that ran all the way around it.
The grass had been cut short around the cottage. Sensei Rick drove right on the grass alongside the house. We passed a tree with a beat-up tire swing turning in the breeze.
“On their first time here, most people usually start opening the doors before the van even stops!” he said, as he threw the van into Park. “What are you waiting for?”
Joe and I each yanked open the side doors, and we all climbed out.
Behind the house was grass and more grass. I couldn’t believe how green and soft it was. And how big and empty and blue the sky was. It never looked this…big and…well, empty in the city. A few puffs of white cloud floated around like they had nothing better to do on a sunny afternoon.
If we were in the city, this would be the cottage’s backyard.
But we weren’t in the city. And it wasn’t a backyard. It was as big as a city park.
Five worn-out trailers were spread out around the field. They sat at odd angles to one another, like wagons making a circle in those old cowboy movies.
I heard a tiny buzzing and looked up to see a small airplane moving across the sky.
I wondered what we looked like to the pilot. To me, looking across to the other end of the field where the grass just disappeared, it felt like we were at the edge of the world.
All the energy that had built up in the car ride exploded in my legs. I sprinted across the field, heading right for the edge. I needed to know what was beyond the edge of the world. My feet flew along, and my lungs burned with fresh air.
As I got closer, a lake appeared. The closer I got, the bigger it got. Soon I could tell it was as wide as the sky above it. I slowed down as I ran out of grass. I was on a small cliff that overlooked the lake. The only thing protecting me from the edge was an old fence. Each section had one piece of driftwood for a top rail and one for a bottom rail. Some of the pieces were crooked but pretty much lined up from one stretch to the next. The whole thing was held together with long twists of wire at each post. Right out of the Old West.
I realized that ever since I had jumped out of the van, I had been hearing the sound of waves. They were far away at first, just a layer of blank noise in the background. I had listened for a second and thought it was the buzzing of bugs and empty country space. Now that I was at the cliff’s edge, I could clearly hear the soft sounds of the waves building, rushing and easing off.
Building, rushing, easing off.
Building, rushing, easing off.
I could almost feel them moving through me.
Far out in the lake I could see a lighthouse on a tiny island. Seagulls flew in spirals all around it. A few waves broke up into white fizz at the edges of the island, but row after row after row of waves, farther and longer than I could see, rolled right past it. They didn’t care that the lighthouse was there.
Right in front of me, just on the other side of the fence, there was really long grass for a couple of feet, then a drop.
I climbed on the fence’s bottom rail and leaned forward to get a better look. There were spots where the cliff face bumped out into sandy little landings. A broken handrail and a few wooden steps showed that someone had carved a path at some point.
I leaned farther forward. At the bottom of the cliff was a rocky beach. A few pointy boul
ders stuck out of the lake where the water met land.
Then the fence shifted suddenly, and the piece I was standing on dropped a couple of inches. I grabbed the top rail and squeezed. A splinter dug into my hand and my heart jumped.
“Move it, slowpoke!”
“You’re going down!”
Zack and Dion were running toward me. I could hear their feet pounding. They had gotten a much slower start out of the van and were making up for it by racing each other to the edge. Each ran with an arm stuck out. Zack’s long legs got him there first, and he laughed as he slapped the wood, gasping.
Dion, a few seconds behind him, slammed into the same section of fence.
Right where he slammed, the top rail flew off. It went over the edge, bouncing, falling, bending the tiny plants and skinny trees on the cliff face. Dion almost followed, spinning his arms like the windmills we had seen on the road. He tried to catch a fence rail that wasn’t there anymore.
Zack grabbed a fistful of his brother’s shirt and hauled him back.
The three of us stared as the wood tumbled down. It caught on a rock, then flipped and rolled again. A fist-sized chunk of wood splintered off. Finally, it rolled to a stop on rocks below.
Zack and Dion weren’t twins, but the look on their faces was identical.
“Holy crap,” I whispered.
They turned and looked at me.
Very gently I stepped down.
TWELVE
Joe joined us, huffing and puffing. Wafaa followed easily behind him. They looked at Zack and Dion with wide eyes before looking over the edge.
“You are in trou-ble!” sang Joe.
It looked like their mom had been right to yell at them ahead of time. We had been here less than ten minutes, in an almost totally empty field, and they had still found a way to bust up the place. And almost thrown themselves off a cliff in the process.
“AY, OSU!” a voice boomed behind us.
The five of us turned around. I didn’t know if it was out of habit or a real effort to show respect, but Wafaa bowed deeply, just as if we were in class.
Kondo Sensei.
It had to be.
He was all the way across the field, standing on the back deck of the cottage, but he sounded as powerful as a giant. It was a voice that could turn any place into a dojo.
The way he was dressed, though, was a different story. He had on a red plaid shirt with rolled-up sleeves. It hung untucked over baggy shorts with saggy pockets.
Was this Kondo Sensei?
Before today, I had never seen Sensei Rick out of an aikido uniform, and he’d been teaching us for almost two months.
“NO BACK BREAKFALLS GONNA HELP YOU IF YOU FALL OVER THERE!”
Yep. That’s a sensei.
Sensei Rick came up beside him to see what the fuss was about. He was just a couple of inches taller than Zack, but even from here I could see that Kondo Sensei was much shorter than him. The top of his black buzz cut came to just past Sensei Rick’s shoulders.
Even though he was probably about my height, Kondo Sensei was wider than Sensei Rick in the shoulders and chest. It was no wonder he had such a powerful dojo voice.
I was sure this was not the first impression Sensei Rick had wanted us to make in front his teacher. He took a step toward us and opened his mouth, to start yelling, I figured, but Kondo Sensei put a hand on his arm. Sensei Rick looked at him, and Kondo shook his head. Sensei Rick closed his mouth.
I hadn’t seen that in the dojo before. Shutting up Sensei Rick was one aikido technique I’d have to learn before the weekend was over.
Kondo Sensei waved for us to come back to the cottage.
“HAPPY TO SEE YOU!” he bellowed as we got closer. He pointed to the minivan. Sensei Rick was now unloading it, tossing our bags into a pile.
“Take your bags, go find beds. Have a nap, relax. In a couple of hours we’re gonna train.” Kondo Sensei looked out at the open field with a smile.
“It’s gonna be hot,” he continued. “Next couple of days, you’re gonna sweat! That’s summer gasshuku! That’s Japanese martial arts tradition! We’re gonna work hard, have fun, roast marshmallows! Let’s GO!” He turned and stepped back into the cottage, sliding the door shut behind him.
We looked at Sensei Rick.
“You heard the man,” he said. “Get your bags, then grab some beds.”
We looked at one another. What beds?
“Uh, Sensei Rick?” called Wafaa. A breeze from the lake blew the corner of her hijab across her face. It was light blue, with small yellow flowers. She tucked it back into place as she looked around.
“Yes?” he answered.
“Where do we…uh, go?”
“These are the bags,” he said, pointing to the pile at his feet. He waved his hand toward the trailers spread around the camp. “Those are the beds. Pick one.” I was surprised that he wasn’t going to tell us who was supposed to sleep where, or at least give us a tour of the trailers. It was a lot more freedom than I was used to. Sometimes I wondered if he thought that kids were just smaller adults. “Students in the trailers, teachers in here.” He nodded at the cottage. He smiled a goofy smile. “It’s my first time staying in the teacher’s cottage.”
For a second I was happy for him.
Then he blew it.
“I’ll have a fridge, air conditioning, Wi-Fi,” he said. “But you guys enjoy it out here in the ‘lunch boxes.’” He waved his arm again at the trailers. “Take your pick. You can each have your own, or you can double up. Each trailer has two little bedrooms and a bathroom. You can use the showers, but it’s lake water, so don’t drink it. Kondo Sensei said he put a case of bottled water in each one.” He lifted his own bag from the pile. “I suggest you drink as much water as you can. Kondo Sensei wasn’t kidding when he said you’re going to sweat.”
He climbed the deck stairs, still talking.
“One last word of advice. We made it clear to your parents that you were not allowed to bring junk food. I’m thinking that some of you might have tried to sneak in some snacks. I’m not going to search any bags, but I will say this: Don’t drop any crumbs!” He opened the sliding door, stepped into the cottage and gave us one last look. “Out here, the rats are as big as cats, and if they get a taste for treats, they’ll come for you in your sleep!” He gave an evil laugh and slid the glass door shut.
Dion squealed, then clapped both hands over his mouth.
Maybe Sensei Rick did understand kids after all.
THIRTEEN
The five of us looked at one another.
Ignoring the bags, we took off as a pack, laughing as we raced from one trailer to the next. At each stop, we jumped over worn wooden steps and ran inside.
There wasn’t much difference between them. The first one was pale yellow with faded brown letters on the outside. It smelled musty inside. The next one was pale blue with faded orange letters on the outside. And smelled musty inside. The third trailer was a little smaller than the others, but it had a big wooden deck with an awning. Three mismatched rocking chairs sat in the shade.
I threw myself down into one of the chairs. By this time I had a pretty strong feeling that this trailer would smell musty inside too.
“I call this one!” I said, stamping my foot to make it official. The other kids had run inside and were already coming back out.
“Too small anyway!” shouted Zack. He jumped off the little deck and ran for the next trailer, Dion close on his heels.
Wafaa joined me in the shade, flopping into one of the other rockers. She shrieked as it almost tipped over backward, then laughed. Joe came out slowly. He lifted the front of his T-shirt to wipe the sweat off his face before collapsing into the third chair.
Zack and Dion kept running around. Maybe they thought there was treasure hidden in one of the trailers. They shouted about how awesome it was going to be to finally get their own rooms, even their own houses. They went to pick up their bags and argued the whole way there about who wou
ld get which trailer. When they came back, they headed for opposite sides of the camp.
“Finally, a break from your snoring!” shouted Zack, heading into the pale-blue trailer.
“Finally, a break from your farting!” Dion shouted back, choosing the trailer closest to the cliff edge. “I can’t believe you don’t wake yourself up!” He squished his hand against his mouth and made a long rude sound before going inside and slamming his screen door.
Zack’s face appeared at his door. He pushed his nose hard against the screen and shouted, “I do NOT fart in my sleep!”
A window in Dion’s trailer flew open. Dion’s head popped out. He didn’t say a word. He just pinched his nose and waved his other hand in front of his face.
Zack pulled a lace curtain across his doorway.
Dion slammed his window shut and then pulled his blinds down with a clatter.
The rest of us really enjoyed the silence.
Three glorious seconds of silence.
Dion yelped. He shot out of the trailer, dragging his bag behind him.
“Spider!” he cried as he ran past us. He lifted his bag and pulled the strap over his shoulder. “Big spider! Killer spider!”
He’d started shouting before he was even halfway to Zack’s trailer. “Mama said we have to share a room, you know! I let you pick the trailer, so I get to pick the bed!”
The three of us just rocked in our chairs and laughed.
After a few moments of peace, Joe spoke up. He sounded a little uncomfortable. “You mind if I bunk with you, Riley?” he asked. “I’ve, uh, never really been on a sleepover before.”
“No problem,” I said. “Me neither. But only on one condition.”
“Really?” Wafaa asked. “You have high standards?”
I gave her a serious look. “As long as he doesn’t fart in his sleep.”
She burst out laughing. Copying Dion, Joe put his hand on his mouth and ripped a big fart sound.
“Boys are so gross,” Wafaa said, still laughing. “And total scaredy-cats. I can’t believe Dion gave up the only trailer with a lake view because of one little bug. I guess I’ll take that one.”
