Chapter 5
In spite of my mother's worry, the five of us -- my mom and dad, Angie, Padma, and me -- were the first ones to arrive at the studio. We unlocked the place, and Angie and I began setting up the exam table, getting out the American and Korean flags, and making sure we had enough boards and bricks.
The lower-ranked belts started arriving soon after we got there, and I, as the highest-ranking belt present, gave them permission to enter and set them to work putting out the visitor chairs, vacuuming the carpet, emptying the wastebaskets, and generally straightening things up. Thus, when Grandmaster Park and Master Wilson showed up and I called everyone to attention and went to the door to greet them, the studio was as spotless as we could make it. We even had a vase of flowers from my mom sitting on the examination table.
The black belts who weren't testing gathered behind the exam table to form a ceremonial honor guard for Grandmaster Park. I'm a fourth Dan, what they call a Junior Master, so I got to sit at the table beside our two masters and help them preside over the tests. Normally, Angie would have stood at attention beside the table to actually run the tests -- calling up the candidates, relaying orders from the masters, selecting boards to be broken, things like that. Since she was testing, though, Grandmaster Park told a second Dan, a big blond kid named Derrick, to run things for him.
I don't get the chance to preside over many belt tests, so it was kind of fun to do it today. I got to ask questions of some of the younger kids who were testing. ("Do you work hard in school? Do you do your chores at home? Do you mind your mom and dad?" and the answers to all of them had better be "Yes, sir.")
One kid was testing for his first Dan, so among other things, he had to count to ten in Korean. Master Wilson's Korean isn't all that strong, so when the kid got so nervous that he started off with "first, second, third" instead of "one, two, three" and Grandmaster Park pretended he couldn't hear him (because one ought not err before the grandmaster) I had to be the one who silently mouthed the numbers to get him started properly.
Angie had already turned in her three-hundred-word essay on the life of General Choi (to be graded by Master Wilson, who in his other life was a high school English teacher), so all that remained for her was the third-Dan form, Taebaek, and three breaks. A form is a preset series of techniques -- kicks, punches, blocks, and so on. Taebaek is probably the most beautiful form in Tae Kwon Do, and it is named after the most beautiful mountain range in Korea. Angie did it perfectly, mainly because she had been practicing it a couple of times a week for the past three years.
Her first break, three boards using an elbow strike, was nothing; she got it on the first try. The second one, breaking a brick with a knife-hand, was harder. Because she was only seventeen, Grandmaster Park had made her get permission from Mom and Dad to try it. She was determined, though, and she finally managed to break it after four tries. Grandmaster Park told her to take a rest then, and she gratefully took her place along the wall with the others who were testing, nursing her hand.
Her final break was the hardest one of all. It was a triple break; she had to jump into the air and simultaneously kick a board with each foot and punch a third. I know I had an awful lot of trouble with it on my last test, and Angie was no different. She tried it and tried it, and even though she consistently broke the boards with her fist and her right foot, the left board just would not break. After her fifth failure, Grandmaster Park called for a water break and sent me over to talk to her.
She was crying, and I couldn't blame her. Her right hand was red and swollen, and I could see blood on her knuckles where she had scraped off the skin. First of all, I checked her hand to make sure she hadn't broken any bones -- she hadn't -- and then I took her in my arms and gave her a hug.
Over her shoulder, I could see Derrick giving us a bemused look; I got the impression that he wished he were the one comforting her right now. I couldn't see anyone else, but I'd have bet a penny that at least half the guys in the studio were giving me that same look. That's just the way Angie is.
"I can't do it, Trev," she was saying, blowing her nose on the tissue I handed her. "I'm kicking it as hard as I can, and it's just not breaking."
"I'll check the board," I promised her, "but I think the problem is with your jump. You're coming up a little slow off your left foot, and that's making you kick too low. Make sure your kick hits the board dead center."
"Okay," she said, sniffling and nodding. "I'll try that."
I took that mean ol' left-foot board and broke it with a hammerfist, then selected another one from the pile. We reconvened a few minutes later, and . . . well, what can I say? I'm a genius. This time, Angie didn't drag her foot, and all three boards broke with a single loud crack! She held herself in check until Grandmaster Park dismissed her with a bow, and then she practically ran to her spot along the wall, beside which my father had thoughtfully placed a bucket of ice, a glass of water, and a couple of ibuprofen.
We walked back home after the ceremony, Angie joyously clutching her fourth-Dan certificate to her chest the whole way. She and I changed out of our uniforms, and my mom whipped up a batch of pork and rice for lunch. "Have you had much authentic Chinese cooking?" she asked Padma as we sat down to eat.
"I don't know how authentic it is," Padma replied with a smile, "but Trevor's cooking is quite good. He says he learned from you."
My mom arched her eyebrows. "Trevor has cooked for you?" She turned and murmured something to my father in Mandarin. I didn't quite catch it, but it sounded something like, "It must be love."
Padma endured my parents' subtle and not-so-subtle prying into our relationship with good humor all throughout the meal. In fact, if I didn't know better, I would say she even enjoyed pretending to be the mysterious femme fatale who had snared their son's heart. Finally, though, after I had eaten all I could hold, I decided it was time for us to stop pretending. I wiped my mouth with a napkin and pushed my chair back.
"Mom, Dad," I said, "I know you're probably curious as to why I brought Padma home to meet you guys."
"Curious? Why, no, dear!" my mother said, simultaneously giving my father a triumphant, I-told-you-something-was-up look. "Your friends are always welcome to come for a visit."
I grinned. "Thanks, Mom. I'm glad to hear you say that." I looked over at Padma; she smiled at me and nodded encouragingly. "I asked her to come along for moral support. I have something important to say that you guys need to hear." My mother's eyes were sparkling as I got to my feet. I know she was probably expecting me to get down on one knee in front of Padma and whip out an engagement ring, and I hoped she would forgive me for not doing that. Instead, I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and said, "Prime Blue, activate!"
Attack Doll 4: Primes Emeriti Page 5
