by Jo Knowles
She grins.
Larry gives us the signal and we start to pivot in a tight circle, watching each other for the “tells” we’ve both learned to look for. As soon as Stella’s eyes go to my fists, I know she’s going to swing. If she looks at my shoulder, I know that’s her target for a kick to the solar plexus. I block several attempts before I make a move.
“Remember what the outcome of battle depends on!” Larry shouts at us.
“How we handle weakness and strength!” recites Stella, then kicks at my head.
“Go after her, Josh!” Larry says. “Get some kicks in!”
I make a feeble attempt to get a kick at her side, but she easily blocks me.
“You won’t hurt me,” she says. “Just do it.”
But I don’t want to. This is the one part of karate that I really can’t stand. The only person I think I would get any enjoyment out of sparring with is Britt.
The little kids start to chant our names. “Stell-a-Stell-a. Jo-osh-Jo-osh.” The Stell-as are way louder.
Stella nails me in the knee with a kick when I’m distracted by Rat Boy pumping his fist in the air and screaming “Go, Josh, go!”
Larry separates us and lets us catch our breath.
“See what happened here?” he asks the kids. “Sparring is all about anticipation and determination.” They stare back at him blankly.
“It’s not about fighting,” he says. “This isn’t fighting. Karate is an aid to justice.” Larry is a master at sneaking in the precepts today.
But the kids aren’t really listening. You can see the hunger for a fight in their little eyes.
“OK, you two, let’s go again.”
Stella lifts her fists and nods at me. “Just try,” she says.
We pivot back and forth in a jerky motion.
“C’mon!” she says, egging me on. The kids pick up their chanting.
The second Stella pauses to acknowledge her groupies with a cocky nod, I take the opportunity to get a nice kick to the hip. Only it feels like I kicked too hard.
“Sorry!” I say, without thinking.
“Remember, accidents arise from negligence!” Larry yells. He separates us again, and explains how I got that one off because Stella wasn’t expecting it. She let herself get distracted. The little kids who were cheering for her look at the floor, shamefaced.
Finally, we get to stop. As we’re taking off our gear, Stella punches my arm. “You need to get some balls,” she tells me. “I’m not some fragile bird. I can take it.”
I know that. I know it.
But I don’t want to hit her. Or kick her. I just want to move with her like we do when we’re practicing katas. Like we’re dancing some dance only the two of us know. A dance that brings us closer than if we were holding each other in a slow dance. There’s no touching. No danger. No risk. And even though there’s no music, there is a rhythm anyway. We are the only ones who can hear it. As we move, it’s like we’re gathering power together. Like we could take on the world.
It’s the only time I feel like that. Ever. Like I’m strong enough to take whatever comes next. Like I could be a true karate man after all.
But maybe Stella doesn’t notice all that.
Maybe it’s just me.
Maybe that’s for the best.
Stella, Larry, and I spend the rest of the week getting the kids in shape. On Friday, Larry plans a ceremony for the parents to come to, and the students demonstrate the moves they’ve learned. They’re not ready for their yellow belts yet, but you can bet all of them are begging their parents to sign them up for classes now. This is how Larry stays in business, I’m sure.
Larry gives all the kids special little trophies for their efforts. He calls each one to the front of the room, and when they bow to him to receive their reward, I have to admit, it’s pretty cute.
After class, Larry says he’s taking us out for dinner to thank us for helping him all week.
Stella looks uneasy. “I’m not sure,” she says, fingering her cell phone.
“Give me that thing,” Larry says, pulling it away. “You’re always racing over to check it. Who are you messaging, anyway? Friends? A boyfriend?”
“None of your business.”
“But you’ll come?”
“I’m not sure . . . I told Britt . . .”
Larry rolls his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with letting your karate instructor take you out for a thank-you dinner. Tell him I have a girlfriend, and anyway, I’m not a pervert.”
She slaps him lightly. “Britt doesn’t think that.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
She glances over at me. “Nothing. It’s just . . . Never mind. You’ll think it’s stupid.”
Larry looks shocked. “I would never!”
“We have a phone date every night.”
Larry’s mouth drops open. “TMI!”
“Not phone sex! God, Larry. Just . . . to talk.”
Larry makes a big deal of sighing with relief. “I’m sure Britt can miss one little phone date. Can’t he?”
I doubt it.
“Stop saying his name like that,” Stella says.
Larry sighs dramatically again. “I can’t help it!”
I stifle a laugh.
Stella shakes her head at us, then shoves her phone in her bag. “Fine. Take us to dinner. I hope you have a lot of cash, because you just convinced me to order the most expensive thing on the menu.”
“Yay!” Larry hugs her.
We walk a few blocks to this cool Spanish place that serves tapas, and Larry orders a bunch of things for us to try. Every dish is incredible. Larry makes a big deal of trying to come up with new ways to describe each one and makes Stella and me crack up.
But every five minutes or so, Stella checks her phone, and I can tell it’s driving Larry nuts.
“What does he text you, anyway?” Larry asks.
“Oh, nothing,” Stella says. She flips her phone closed and puts it back in her bag.
“Come on, tell me one thing.”
Stella blushes. “No. It’s private.”
“Does he say he loves you?”
“Sure.”
“Does he say . . . Hope you’re having fun?”
Stella looks at me.
“Drop it, Lar,” I say.
He throws up his hands. “OK, OK. I’m sorry, Stell. We can’t always choose who we fall in love with. Love is a crazy thing.”
He glances from me to Stella in an embarrassingly obvious way. He just can’t seem to help himself.
“Speaking of love,” Stella says, “how are things going with your girlfriend?”
Larry gets all dreamy. “She’s working late. She had a private class with some company downtown that wants their employees to be less stressed. She was doing a two-hour session with them, and then she’s going to train a few select employees so they can run yoga sessions a few times a week. Cool company, huh?”
Stella nods.
“Aaand . . .” Larry says, motioning for us to lean forward so he can tell us a secret. “I’ve made a big decision.”
“What is it?” Stella whispers loudly.
Larry smiles his goofy smile.
“We’ve been going out for almost a year now, and, well, I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Ever. So . . . I’m going to ask her to marry me!”
Stella squeals.
I raise my hand to give him a high-five, but he jumps up and pulls me into a classic, squeeze-the-air-out-of-you Larry embrace.
“That’s great, Larry,” I manage to squeak out.
“You guys will help me, right?” he asks when we sit back down. “To pick out a ring? It has to be perfect. And we have to figure out a really cool way for me to ask her. You know. Something super-special.”
“Oh, like putting the ring in a champagne glass!” Stella says. “Or hiding it in a cupcake!”
“But what if she chokes on it?” I ask. “Or breaks a tooth? That would suck.”
&nbs
p; “Nah, nah, nah,” Larry interrupts. “I’m not doing something cheesy. Sorry, Stell, no offense. This has to be all class. I’ve got to show her how mature I am. And romantic.”
“Maybe you should take her away for a weekend,” I suggest.
“Ooh, yes!” Stella says. “Take her to New York and go to a show!”
“Eh, she doesn’t really like the city.”
“Maybe a nice place in the country,” I say. “Where you could go hiking or something. She’s always saying how much she loves nature.”
“I like it!” Larry claps me on the back.
Stella gives me a look. I think she’s hurt that Larry hasn’t liked any of her ideas. “Maybe you could propose on top of a mountain,” she tries. “Although March isn’t the best month for that.”
“Now you’re talkin’, though!” Larry starts taking notes on his hand.
“Uh, Einstein? You better remember to wash that off before you see her,” I say.
He laughs. “Josh, you are such a kidder. I love this lighter side of you.”
“He’s a real romantic,” Stella says.
“Oh, really?” Larry asks in an exaggerated voice.
“I just meant because he has good ideas,” Stella says quickly. “About you and Arielle.”
Larry leans back in his seat. “She’s so wonderful, isn’t she?” It’s not a question we need to answer. Obviously.
“What kind of ring will you get?” Stella asks.
“Something different. You know, not like the traditional thing. Something artsy. Meaningful.”
“In other words, you have no idea,” I say.
“Not really, no. I was thinking maybe you guys would go shopping with me. I’m not telling anyone else about the engagement, by the way, so don’t mention it to any of my and Arielle’s friends. They all have big mouths. And don’t tell Gil or Gene, either. OK, Stell? Not even your mom.”
“Don’t worry. There’s no way I’d tell her.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“Because it would only make her depressed that she hasn’t ‘moved to the next level’ with Calvin. She’s been taking these Realtor classes to get her license, and spending all her free time with him, but . . . he hasn’t popped the question yet.”
“It takes time,” Larry says reassuringly.
“Tell that to my mom. You’d think she was an old lady the way she talks. Like time is running out.”
Larry sighs. “Poor Star.”
“Anyway,” Stella says. “What kind of ring are you going to get, Lar? Silver? Gold? Titanium?”
Larry looks totally overwhelmed. “I don’t know! Ugh. Maybe I should propose without a ring and let her pick it out herself? I just want everything to be perfect.”
“Calm down, Larry,” I say. “You look like you’re about to have a heart attack.”
He pats his chest. “Sorry. I can’t help it. Whenever I think about asking her, I get all excited and freaked out at the same time.”
“Don’t worry, Lar. We’ll help you,” Stella says. “Definitely.”
“You guys are the best.” He flags the waiter over to get our bill.
On the walk home, we move slowly, like none of us really wants this time to end. It’s a cool, crisp night, and the people on the streets rush by, clutching their coat collars to their necks or tucking their faces into their scarves. When we get to the park, Larry suggests we walk through it and take the long way home, but Stella admits she needs to get back and call Britt.
“Oh, Britt,” Larry says.
“Don’t start, Larry.” Stella hurries ahead of us. “Besides, I’m cold!” she calls over her shoulder.
“You two make the cutest couple,” Larry whispers to me.
“Shut it, Larry,” I hiss.
“I’m serious,” he hisses back. “That other guy’s a creeper. Always texting her and having to know where she is every second. That’s not love, that’s . . . possession. C’mon, Sam Man, you know you like her.”
“I don’t want a girlfriend,” I say.
“Why not?” Larry stops walking.
“Come on, we should keep up with Stella. It’s late.”
“We’ll catch up. Just tell me why not.”
“Because I’m not ready, OK?”
“When will you be ready, Josh? Don’t be like me. Don’t be single too long. Life’s too short to be alone.”
“Then why were you?”
“Eh, I wanted to play the field. Not get tied down, you know? But the thing is, after a while I realized that of all my friends, I was the only single one left. Thank God Arielle came along. I swear, Sammy. I was one lonely fool.”
Way ahead, Stella stops and turns to wait for us. We pick up our pace and Larry drops the subject. But I keep thinking about what he said about being alone. Larry runs ahead and grabs Stella’s hand. They skip along the sidewalk like little kids. I follow behind, wondering what it would feel like to take Stella’s hand from Larry’s and skip like a fool down the sidewalk beside her. My hand tingles. I would love to give them both a shock. Show them I know how to have fun.
But instead, I stuff my hands in my pockets and walk after them, falling farther and farther behind.
It’s 11:33 p.m. and I can’t sleep. Larry and Arielle are in the living room, watching Project A. This has to be Jackie Chan’s corniest movie of all time. But they’re in there laughing their heads off. It seems impossible to me that there could be more than one person on this planet who loves Jackie as much as Larry. Maybe Arielle just does it to humor him. Or maybe she does it just because she loves him. Either way, clearly she’s perfect for him.
I’m glad Larry is so happy. I’m glad he found someone who makes him laugh. But when he’s happy like this, with Arielle, I feel like I don’t belong here.
I flip open my cell.
Caleb: missed u @ break. d crashed his dad’s truck but he’s OK.
Dave: dude! come home i need a driver!
I text them back, then flip to the Christmas photo of Rosie and prop my phone next to the picture of me, Dave, and Caleb, like I do every night. I get out Stella’s stone, glance over at Jackie Chan’s beat-up face, and turn out the light. As the stars come out and the stone warms in my hand and the laughter down the hall fades to quiet, I listen to Clover’s purrs and think about how I am surrounded by happiness. How lucky I am. And how I don’t deserve this.
I squeeze the rock harder and try for the thousandth time to get the memory of that night out of my head. The way Ellie looked at me when she realized I wasn’t going to stay. That I’d just used her like so many other assholes. And then the next memory. The way Caleb looked at me when he showed me the note that changed my life forever. And the words themselves, blurry from Ellie’s tears, that made me realize I’d gotten her pregnant. And the worst memory of all. The image of the baby. My baby. The tiny little face behind glass. The small angry fist dangling outside his blanket. I try to ignore the feeling that burns in my chest now, just like it did then, when I left him. But it doesn’t go away, no matter how hard I squeeze the rock.
When I wake up to the crying, I stay put and stare at the ceiling. I listen to the familiar soothing voice calm the baby back to quiet. I close my eyes and make a low humming sound to drown out the noise. But when I do, I see him again, just like always. Alone. Waiting for someone to come and hold him. And now I see the Ellie from my dreams, silently screaming at me. No.
I sit up. Clover rolls over and purrs, stretching out all four paws. I lean forward and scratch her belly. The noise above finally goes away, and I lie back again. Clover creeps up the bed and plops down next to my head. I rub her ears and put my face against her fur, letting her purrs lull me back to sleep.
Jason comes rushing toward me the minute I get to my locker on the Monday after break.
“Did you hear anything?”
He looks too happy to see me. “Did you?” I say, since that has to be why.
“NYU. In.” He breathes out as if he’s been holding his brea
th for a month.
“Awesome,” I say.
“How ’bout you?”
“Nah. Not yet.”
“I’m sure you will soon.”
“Yeah, eventually,” I say. I try to make it sound like I’m not too worried. But now that people are starting to hear from schools, I feel even more on edge than usual. I applied to schools all over the place: San Francisco, Chicago, Dallas, Philly. Everywhere that’s too long to drive to and from my hometown in one day. That was my rule. Now I’m wondering if I aimed too high.
The whole day seems to be about people sharing college news. High-fiving. Consoling. It’s as if everyone’s life but mine changed over break.
By the end of the day, I can’t wait to get out of here. I’m heading to the library when I turn the corner and see Stella and Britt at the end of the hall. They’re hugging and laughing. I step back and am about to go the other way, but I can’t help risking another look. Stella’s familiar laughter echoes in the empty hallway. I peek around the corner again. Britt picks her up in a hug and swings her around in a circle, her legs flying out behind her. When he puts her down, he cups her face in his hands. “This is the best day ever,” he tells her.
“I know,” she says.
They’re both holding letters. I’m guessing college acceptance letters.
“Why did you wait all day to tell me?” he asks.
“I wanted to tell you when we were alone.”
He hugs her again. She looks so small, buried in his arms. I’ve never seen them alone together. I always figured they fought most of the time, since whenever Stella shows up after being with him she looks upset. But they look so . . . comfortable. Happy. Like they belong together.
“I love you so much,” he says.
And then he looks up and sees me.
I step back quickly and practically run down the hall. I can’t believe I didn’t just turn around the second I saw them. God. What is wrong with me?
“Hey, Josh.”
I swing around and see this girl, Kelly, who’s in my homeroom and a few classes with me. Where the hell did she come from?
“Uh, hey,” I say, out of breath.
“Are you OK?”
“Huh? Yeah. Why?”
