by John Corr
Wafaa stood up and wandered over to have a look at her new home. She was in there for just a few moments before she came back out. She only had one sneaker on. The other was balanced carefully in her hand. She gave us a look and put a finger to her lips, then put her hand over her mouth, holding back her giggles.
Wafaa ran across the grass to Zack’s—and now Dion’s—trailer with a funny hop-step. It was uneven because of her one sock foot. I knew I would never call her a ninja again, but she sure did move as quiet as one. She climbed their stairs and slowly pulled their door open.
The sound of the brothers arguing came out clearly, like two birds chirping. Wafaa reached inside the doorway and turned the sneaker upside down. She gave it a shake, then looked inside it. She turned it over again and knocked it once against the floor.
Then she jumped back and slid the door shut with a bang.
The boys stopped arguing.
Wafaa raced toward the van, pulling her shoe on as she ran. Once she’d picked up her bag, she took her sweet time walking back to her own trailer by the lake.
Just as she reached her door matching screams filled the air, coming from inside the brothers’ trailer.
“SPIDER!”
“You know,” I said to Joe, “I think she’s finally starting to like us.”
Zack and Dion ran out of their trailer, tripping over each other in their panic.
“Yep,” said Joe. He stopped rocking and pointed at the brothers. “But remind me to never get on her bad side.” He started rocking again.
I laughed as I stood up to get my bag. “You make a good point, roomie.”
FOURTEEN
After Joe and I had unpacked a little, we went over to check out the view from Wafaa’s trailer. We ended up spending the next little while chilling out there. Sensei Rick had told us not to bring any electronics, but apparently he’d forgotten to tell the parents this, because Dad had let me pack an old laptop and some DVDs. I raced back to our trailer and grabbed them. Joe had brought his own pillow from home. I was a little jealous. I had thought of doing that, too, but was afraid I’d get teased for looking like a baby. My jealousy disappeared when Joe emptied the pillowcase onto Wafaa’s floor. A ton of chocolate bars and candy tumbled out.
“No crumbs!” Wafaa said. “Spiders I can handle. Rats…not so much!”
We loaded up the bed in her spare bedroom with all the pillows from our two trailers. I put on an old movie about a man who takes his three grandsons up to his cottage and teaches them how to kick butt, ninja style. Dad had said it was very apropos. Professor talk for “good pick.”
We cranked open the bedroom’s two small windows. Wafaa plugged in a fan she had found in one of the cupboards. The blades didn’t move at first, but the fan came to life when she smacked it. Sweet summer air from outside was finally chasing out the musty smell.
We all settled into our nest in the cool, dark room and enjoyed some secret snacks and tricky ninja moves. Just as the movie ended, we heard two sharp whistle blasts. All three of us jumped.
Wafaa slammed the laptop shut and quickly shoved it under the pillows.
Joe scooped up all the empty candy wrappers.
I ran to the front window to peek out, but the window was small and dirty, so I couldn’t see much. Wafaa and Joe stood behind me, waiting for a report. I looked back at them and shrugged.
The three of us slowly opened the door and wandered out into the afternoon sun. It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the bright light. When they did, I didn’t believe what I was seeing.
A dojo.
A dojo had appeared in the middle of the clearing.
I blinked again and rubbed my eyes. Blocked the sun with my hand and checked again.
Yep.
A dojo.
Or, at least, a dojo floor. The whole thing rested on a low wooden stage only a few of inches off the ground. White mats sat edge to edge on top of the wood. Like everything else here, the mats were a little worn. Even from where I stood I could see a couple of patches made from duct tape.
Was the sun making me see things?
If it was a mirage, I was also hallucinating Sensei Rick. He stood beside the dojo floor, swinging a whistle around his finger. In his other hand he held a crumpled sheet of paper. Dion lay on the grass at his feet, fanning himself with another piece of paper. Zack stood at the side, holding an electric screwdriver in his hand. He pointed it at us and pressed the button. Buzzzzzzz.
“Nice of you to join us,” he said. “Now that all the work is done.”
The three of us stared.
“Kondo Sensei’s handwriting,” Sensei Rick mumbled, studying the sheet. “Sometimes I can’t tell if these instructions are in Japanese or English!” He held the paper up and compared it to what they had built. “But I think we did it, boys. What do you think?”
“I think that these lazy jerks just had a good nap in there while we’ve been working our butts off out here!” Dion said.
Zack swung the screwdriver to point at Dion and buzzed it at him. “You’re the one who broke Sensei’s fence. It’s only fair we do a little work around the place to make up for it.” He smiled as sweat rolled down the side of his face. “Besides, we did an awesome job.”
Sensei Rick stepped onto the platform. He took a few steps, then bounced up and down to test it. It creaked but held together. He sprang into a forward flip, and his arms pounded the mats as he landed. The stage shook but stayed in one piece. He stood up, satisfied. “Everyone get their uniforms on,” he said. “Kondo Sensei will be starting class in five minutes!”
I ran to the trailer to get changed. Joe was just a few seconds behind me. He kept up a monologue the whole time we got dressed. “Finally, a class with Kondo Sensei! Have you seen this guy on YouTube? Riley, he is amazing! He’s, like, seventy years old, but there’s this one video where two guys come at him, and he gets the one guy’s arm, and…”
I ignored him and fumbled with my white belt. I needed to get my butt out the door. Just the thought of being late for a Kondo Sensei class put the metallic taste on my tongue. The Surge was threatening to come. My belt was wrapped around my waist, but my brain blanked when it came time to tie the knot. I stared at the belt ends, holding one in each hand.
How is the left end twice as long as the right? And is the top supposed to go over the bottom, or the bottom over the top?
I closed my eyes and breathed out.
I dropped the belt ends, then untangled the whole thing and pulled it off my waist so it could fall to the floor.
You put this thing on twice a week.
I inhaled deeply like we did at the start and end of every aikido class.
You don’t need to think about it.
Just let your fingers do it.
They know what to do.
I breathed in again and held my breath for a count of four. I paused, then exhaled, not counting, just pushing out all the air. I squeezed until my lungs were empty and coughed to squeeze more. My body didn’t like it. My shoulders tensed up, and my brain started to panic.
I pushed back at the feeling. A second later my shoulders dropped back down. Maybe it was something about the fresh air, or maybe it was the sunshine, but somehow I had made myself relax.
I took a sweet breath in and stopped thinking about my breathing.
I reached down, picked up the belt and wrapped it around my waist. Then I stopped thinking about the belt. I tuned back in to the sound of Joe’s voice and just let my hands do what they knew how to do.
“…and on this other video, a guy comes at him with a knife! A knife, Riley! I mean, it’s a wooden knife, but…”
My hands tugged the knot tight.
I smiled.
Joe shoved past me, jacket flapping wide open and belt trailing behind him like a long tail. His bump sent me flying into the wall.
I was going to complain, but he was already gone.
I pushed myself back up and made my way out of the trailer, taking my tim
e to slide the screen door shut behind me.
FIFTEEN
Kondo Sensei stepped out onto his back deck and slipped his feet into sandals. I could tell from the clonk, clonk as he walked on the deck that they were made of wood. He was wearing the heavy white aikido uniform top, plus the swishy black pants of an instructor. However hot we were going to be, he was going to be hotter.
When he reached us, he kicked off his sandals into the grass and hopped onto the platform with a loud thud. I felt the whole stage shudder. He sure was solid.
Just like at home, Sensei Rick called for us to line up, kneeling in seiza. Unlike at home, he kneeled at the end of our line like any other student. Kondo Sensei took the teacher position, front and center.
“Mokuso!” called Sensei Rick. “Close your eyes!”
Sensei Rick’s voice was always serious, but today it sounded extra sharp. I wondered if he felt like I did when I sat in front of him. That any little thing he did, if it wasn’t perfect, might get him in trouble. Somehow the idea that he might be nervous helped me feel more relaxed.
I closed my eyes. The sun was warm on my face. The smell of grass filled my nose. A cool breeze blew across my cheek, and a different smell, maybe the lake, washed past.
“Mokuso yame!” barked Sensei Rick. “Open your eyes!”
At home, opening my eyes at the start of class usually brings on the first feelings of the Surge. Pressure in my forehead and a small sick feeling in my gut. It’s triggered because I know Sensei Rick is going to push us hard for an hour, and I don’t know what that will look or feel like. Each class, I’ve wished that I had done something, anything, to prepare. I’ve felt it even though he’s never told us what we’ll be doing in the next class. One time I asked Sensei Rick if he could tell me what was coming up next time. He didn’t even think it over. He was shaking his head no before I’d even finished asking. He said the whole point of aikido is to prepare for the unexpected. To act boldly even when we feel anxious or unsure.
But today when I opened my eyes and saw so much sky and grass and trees all around, I felt a different kind of energy. It was like a mini Surge, but a good one. It didn’t paralyze me or build pressure in my head. I didn’t know what Kondo Sensei was going to be like as a teacher, but I felt more excited than anything. Excited and ready.
The warm-ups were shorter than usual. With the sun beaming down on us, we were already pretty hot. Wafaa wasn’t even wearing her padded hijab. Instead, she wore a light one that wrapped up all her hair but left her neck and ears open to the breeze.
When it was time for the technique, Kondo Sensei called up Sensei Rick to be uke, the “fall guy.” Being so senior, Kondo Sensei would always be sh’te, the one doing the technique. He showed us a technique we had practiced at our home dojo many times.
I figured Kondo Sensei didn’t know that, though, because he took his time showing it to us. He explained all the steps one by one, as if we had never seen them before. But it wasn’t boring. Hearing it in his voice, with his different words for the same moves, made it feel fresh and familiar at the same time. He described each step as he did it.
“Shuffle-strike!
“Turn the elbow ooooo-ver.
“Cut down.
“Uke down on one knee.
“Cross-step one. Knee into armpit—knock him down!
“Cross-step two. Bring up back foot.”
Kondo Sensei had struck at Sensei Rick, turned him around, then guided him face down to the mats. He carefully stretched out Sensei Rick’s arm as he kneeled down and set up for the final pin.
“Knee. Wrist. Other knee. Hand on elbow.
“Breathe out…
“Aaaand…the pin.”
I breathed out in time with Kondo Sensei as he sunk his weight into his partner’s elbow. I had played the uke role plenty of times, so I knew Sensei Rick was waiting until he couldn’t even wiggle his arm. Then he tapped the mat with his free hand. This technique never hurt. But when it was done right, you couldn’t get up no matter what you tried.
The two teachers faced each other, kneeling, and bowed. Still kneeling, they turned and bowed to us. “You try!” Kondo Sensei said. “HAJIME!”
Sensei Rick grabbed me to be his partner. Working with a teacher made me tense, and that made my moves rough, but Sensei Rick helped smooth them out by cooperating at every step. He didn’t complain when I twisted his arm too much, and when I pushed him toward the ground, he glided down without fighting back.
Kondo Sensei walked back and forth along the white mats. When he interrupted to make corrections, he was loud but never annoyed. It was a lot different from Sensei Rick’s style.
Soon Kondo Sensei asked us to sit. He called up Sensei Rick to be uke as he taught another technique. Again it was one we had done many times before. And again he made it feel fresh. When he asked us to try it, he told us to switch partners. This gave me a turn with Dion.
We didn’t work together as smoothly as Sensei Rick and I had, but we had fun getting a little rough.
“ReLAX!” Kondo Sensei hollered as he walked by. He was smiling.
At home, I always keep a close eye on the clock. Even though I’ve gotten a lot more comfortable there, I still know that any class could bring pain or embarrassment, and watching the clock helps me measure my chances of survival.
Here, there was no clock to keep an eye on. We sweated, and we worked the techniques until they worked. Then we sweated some more. Kondo Sensei walked us through two more familiar techniques, telling us to switch partners each time.
Finally Kondo Sensei called us to a halt.
“YAME! Back to the line!” Kondo Sensei walked to the front of the mats and knelt down. “Everybody’s working hard, sweating lots! Just remember, learning to fall is even more important than doing the technique. Everybody’s banging around, trying to be strong, but uke is the more important, not sh’te. No matter how many times you go down, you gotta get back up! Fall down seven times, gotta get up eight! That’s what you need to make it through!
“Now, go take a shower, get changed, drink LOTS of water. In a couple hours we eat.” He slapped his belly. “STEAKS!” he said. “For me and Ricky. Hot dogs for the kids. Ricky’s gonna give you sticks so you can cook on the fire.”
Ricky?
My belly shook as I squeezed in my laughter. Soon it was so built up that I had to bite the insides of my cheeks so I wouldn’t get busted. I had made it through a whole class without getting yelled at for being silly, and I didn’t want to blow it now.
But our big, tough, bossy, always-serious, sometimes-mean Sensei Rick…
RICKY?
At the front of the mats, Kondo Sensei bowed from his kneeling position and called out, “Osu!”
We returned the bow, and I finally got my giggles under control. “Osu!” we replied together.
I straightened up and saw perfect sweaty palm prints where I had touched the mat.
They wouldn’t last, but I had made my mark up here.
Kondo Sensei walked to the edge of the platform. He bowed once more standing, then turned and hopped down to the grass. He slipped his sandals on and walked back to the cottage.
“That was epic,” said Zack, his face bright pink.
“Well, when you train with the best…” Wafaa said. She brushed imaginary dirt off her shoulder. It sounded like she thought Zack was complimenting her. Then she smiled so we knew she was joking. “Seriously, though, Kondo Sensei is unbelievable.”
“Summer training overall is pretty special,” Sensei Rick said. “Just wait for the midnight moonlight class!” He seemed much more relaxed up here too.
“You’re joking!” said Dion. “Are you joking?”
Sensei Rick laughed. “The adults have done it, but I don’t think Kondo Sensei would want to disturb your sleep. You guys are going to get pretty tired out as it is.”
He bowed at the edge of the mats. “Two hours, guys,” he said. “For me, air conditioning and a nap. For you, warm show
ers and shady decks! Don’t be jealous. I spent years in the trailers. I’ve paid my dues!” He hopped down and walked off.
“For a guy who doesn’t want us to be jealous,” Zack said, “he sure does mention that air conditioning a lot.”
We dragged our sweaty selves off the mats and made our way back to our trailers.
As soon as we were through the door of ours, Joe started ranting about how great Kondo Sensei was.
I agreed. But I was way too tired to say so.
I showered, then pulled on my shorts and T-shirt from before. I noticed that Joe had finally stopped talking. I went to his bedroom doorway and saw that he was sound asleep.
Not a bad idea.
I lay down on my own bed and closed my eyes. Just as I was dozing off, I rolled over and felt a tiny sting, high on the outside of my leg. I sat up fast. I felt a surge of panic, and my mind flashed to Dion and the spider.
I’m so sorry I laughed! I’m so sorry I laughed!
I frantically swiped at my leg with both hands, but when I slowed down to check, I didn’t see anything moving, not on my leg, not on the floor.
Very slowly and very, very carefully, I pulled my shorts pocket open as wide as it could go.
I peeked in.
Something folded.
A little staple hanging loose in one corner. One bent end made for a tiny spike sticking out.
I exhaled and closed my eyes. Relief flooded through me. I wasn’t going to die from a spider bite!
I pulled out the picture and flopped back onto the bed. Unfolded it.
Mom up in the cherry tree.
I picked out the staple and flicked it across the room.
Another look at the picture. I miss you so much, Mom.
I folded it up again and shoved it back into my pocket.
Time to sleep.
SIXTEEN
Knocking woke me.
I sat up like a shot and looked around, unsure where I was. A dark room with fake-wood walls. I blinked a couple of times, and the whole day rushed back to me. My head was feeling fuzzy, but I got up and went to the trailer door. Dion stood outside the screen.
