by P J Tierney
‘Whoa,’ he said.
Jade bowed to Mr Fan, arched her eyebrows at Jamie and jumped down.
Jamie was determined to prove he was equal to this challenge. He placed his hands on top of the narrow pole, bent his knees, then pushed up. The pole tilted towards him.
He realised his mistake immediately. The pole wasn’t mounted in the ground; it was balancing on top of it!
He was already midair, too committed to the jump to pull out. The pole went flying under his weight and he sailed over the top of it. As the pole thudded into the ground and Jamie hurtled towards it, two simultaneous thoughts raced through his brain. The first one was: This is really going to hurt! The second, more compelling one was: Jade did all that on an unstable pole!
Jamie’s chin hit the pole with a teeth-jarring crack. Then his chest landed and finally, inevitably, his groin. For a moment, there was nothing; just the musty smell of the bark. Then came all-encompassing heat and excruciating pain. It burst through every cell in his body. He couldn’t breathe; his throat seized, his eyes bulged. Tears streamed down his face. He drew his knees up into his chest and panted till the sharp, stabbing pain dulled into what was merely an unbearable throb.
Somewhere in the distance he heard Jade say, ‘How do you think that self-respect thing is working out?’
It was some time before Jamie could stand up straight, and longer still before he could look Jade in the eye. But he did and squared up to the pole again. He placed a hand on each of the two poles beside him and carefully brought his legs up behind him. The poles wobbled as he found his feet. It took a lot of concentration to get the wobble under control and feel comfortable enough to bring his hands together. He wished he’d paid more attention to how Jade did it.
‘Good,’ Mr Fan said softly. ‘Stay centred. Now go through your blocks, Jamie. Start slowly.’
Jamie went through the sequence of blocks he’d learned the day before. He moved fluidly, careful not to transfer any movement down his legs. He caught the wobble of the pole in his thighs; already they burned and his knees hurt. He raised his right arm to a high block and crossed his left over to a low one.
‘See where your arms are, Jamie?’ Mr Fan asked.
Jamie stopped mid-sequence and realised one arm was over his head, the other beside him. His chest was totally exposed.
Jade reached up and tapped him lightly on the chest. He brought his high block down to knock her away, but moved a little too quickly. As he put his arms out wide to catch his balance, Jade pushed on his chest. It was only a light touch, but it was enough for him to lose his balance entirely. He waved his arms in great circles, but toppled off the pole.
‘Impressive start,’ Jade said.
Jamie shook himself off, spat the dust from his mouth and squared up again.
‘Do you think you’ve got the hang of it?’ Mr Fan asked.
‘No,’ Jamie said, but Mr Fan was already waving Jade up onto the poles with him.
Jamie got back up and faced Jade. He tested his weight cautiously as he copied her stance: feet apart, knees bent so he was crouched like riding a horse. He concentrated on his balance.
‘The power in a kung fu attack is not in the punch or the kick,’ Mr Fan said. ‘The power is in the space in between.’
In between what?
Jamie looked at Mr Fan for an explanation.
‘Eyes front,’ Mr Fan snapped, and Jamie returned his attention to Jade’s piercing gaze. His thighs burned from crouching.
‘The power in a strike comes from its distance from its target. The further away a fist or a foot is, the greater its impact when it hits you. Therefore,’ Mr Fan said, ‘sometimes the best defence is to get in very close.’
Jade stepped forwards.
‘Closer,’ Mr Fan said.
Jamie bristled. He felt they were close enough already. Jade huffed her impatience, but only loud enough for Jamie to hear. He carefully stepped to the poles right in front of her.
‘Forearms,’ Mr Fan said, and Jamie copied Jade as she positioned her forearm to protect her face. ‘The objective in the Chi Sau technique,’ Mr Fan went on, ‘is to maintain constant pressure on your opponent so they’re unable to get any striking distance.’
Jade leaned into Jamie’s arms and instinctively he stepped back. He missed the pole and Jade had to catch him so he wouldn’t fall again.
‘Your footwork and balance are critical,’ Mr Fan said.
Jade let Jamie reposition himself, then she leaned into him again. Their forearms pushed against each other. As Jade increased the pressure, Jamie felt for the next pole with his foot. That tiny fraction of a space was all she needed to flick her arm under his, twist his forearm away and clip him under the chin.
‘Break,’ Mr Fan called. He turned to Jamie. ‘You must maintain pressure.’
Jamie exhaled sharply; he was trying.
‘Again,’ Mr Fan called.
Their forearms met, and this time Jamie followed the pressure of Jade’s arms as she coaxed him left then right. As she tried to pull away, he pushed harder. He felt her weight shift and he leaned with her. He watched for that flick, kept the pressure on her arms and his weight on his toes.
He felt her counteract with more force and moved his arm to try to coax her to follow. Her neck became exposed and he twisted his arm to slide hers away from its protective block. There was a flash of surprise in her eyes as she realised she was vulnerable. Jamie lunged, but at the very moment he pushed his weight forwards, she stepped aside. With nothing to brace against, Jamie tumbled. Jade smirked as he sailed past and with that look he realised she’d tricked him. He crashed onto the ground and covered his head as the poles toppled all around him.
When the dust settled, Jade was looking down at him, the same fake look of surprise on her face. Jamie had underestimated her: she wasn’t just good at kung fu, she was cunning as well. He turned to Mr Fan and read the disappointment on his face. Jamie thought how easy it would be to walk away. He didn’t know kung fu; he’d never stood on a pole before; they were being unfair. But somewhere deep inside, he knew he was being tested. And even if he failed every kung fu test there was, he would never fail a test of character.
Jamie stood up and brushed the dirt from his shoulders and knees. He straightened his shirt, then bent down and stood the first of the toppled poles back up. He worked silently and positioned the poles carefully, clearing the ground, making sure the poles stood firmly. Mr Fan helped Jamie with the last few poles.
Jade took her position. Jamie took his place opposite her. He concentrated on his balance and was careful not to overcommit to Jade or to the poles. His thighs burned and his head pounded. There were too many things to think about.
‘Lean in!’ Mr Fan shouted, then, ‘Not too much!’
All the time, Jamie was trying to out-think Jade and her flicking wrist. There came a moment, however, when he stopped thinking it through. Instead, he drew breath deeply and willed the air to hold him in place. He trusted his feet to find a surface and his body to move in harmony with the pole. His instinct took over. He knew when he needed to pull back or when he could lean further.
Now his mind was free to concentrate on Jade. It was like she was in slow motion; he saw every muscle as it tensed to pre-empt her next move. Every move she made, he was with her, blocking her, stopping her attacks. He followed her as she sidestepped, his foot finding the next pole without his head wondering if he’d stumble. He saw her arms go wide to tempt him to expose his chest. He feigned a response, but as soon as she followed his trick, he flicked her forearm away and swung his arm up under her chin. Just as he was about to hit her, he flicked his wrist, hooked his fingers under her jaw and pulled her off balance.
Jade fell.
Mr Fan gasped.
The spell was broken. Jamie twisted too quickly, unsettled the pole and fell on top of her. She grunted and pushed him off.
‘Sorry,’ he said.
Mr Fan leaned over Jamie, his eyes wide.
He reached for Jamie’s hand. ‘Sh-show me,’ he said, stumbling over his words.
Jamie was puzzled, but let Mr Fan take his hand. Mr Fan turned his palm over and inspected it from both sides.
‘Bend your fingers,’ he said, ‘like you did just then.’
Jamie put his index and middle fingers together and bent them at the top joint, like he was double-tapping the tabletop.
‘You didn’t roll them,’ Mr Fan said, ‘you locked them.’
Jamie tried to remember what he’d done, but his fingers wouldn’t respond. He ran the sequence through his head. He saw Jade’s neck, he flicked his wrist and caught her under her jaw. He tried the action again, but couldn’t repeat the click that Mr Fan wanted.
Mr Fan waved Jamie and Jade back to the poles. ‘Try again,’ he said. ‘Exactly as before.’
They straightened the poles and took their positions. Jamie crouched into his stance and fixed his gaze on Jade. She mumbled something that may have been, ‘Lucky.’ Jamie tried to concentrate just like last time. He followed the pressure from Jade’s forearms, he feigned exposing his chest, but she didn’t take his lead. Instead, she slapped his arm away.
‘Jade,’ Mr Fan said. ‘Exactly the same.’
Her eyes flared. She took her position in front of Jamie, her lips in a straight, determined line. Jamie took a deep breath. He leaned in and followed her arms, pushed when she tried to break free and eased back as she attacked. He exposed his chest, then saw her neck; he flicked his wrist up and locked his fingers under Jade’s jaw. She grabbed him by the wrist and yanked his arm for Mr Fan to see. Jamie looked down. The mid-joints on his index and middle fingers were locked straight, but the top joint was bent over at ninety degrees.
‘The eagle claw,’ Mr Fan breathed.
He rotated Jamie’s wrist so he could see the grip from all sides. Jade watched.
‘Finger-locking,’ Mr Fan said. ‘We haven’t seen that in quite some time,’ and he gave Jade a look that said something Jamie didn’t understand.
Jamie turned his hand from side to side; the position of his fingers looked like it should be painful. ‘I didn’t know I could do that.’
‘It’s a form of hypermobility,’ Mr Fan said, ‘like being double-jointed.’
‘It’s just a hand position,’ Jade said.
But from the way Mr Fan was looking at his eagle claw, Jamie knew it was something else entirely.
Chapter 14
Mr Fan squeezed Jamie’s hand and said, ‘Show me again.’
Jade rolled her eyes.
Jamie took his position opposite Jade, leaned into her forearms and saw her chin was grazed from where he’d pulled her down. ‘Sorry,’ he whispered.
Jade jerked her head back and sniffed the air. ‘Man, when did you brush your teeth last?’
Jamie clamped his mouth shut and thought of the razorfish he’d added to his congee at breakfast. He leaned into Jade’s forearms, conscious of his breath and how close they were.
‘Begin,’ Mr Fan said.
Jade flicked Jamie’s arm off hers and landed a punch on his chest. Jamie stepped backwards and wobbled on a pole but recovered.
‘Concentrate,’ Mr Fan said.
Again they stood close together, Jamie berating himself for letting her get the better of him. He braced, but just as Mr Fan shouted, ‘Begin!’ Jade sniffed the air. Jamie caught his breath, she lunged at his chest and he went flying. He landed on his back at Mr Fan’s feet.
With one ferocious sweep of his arm, Mr Fan waved Jade down from the poles. She stood beside Jamie. Mr Fan raised his arm and Jamie flinched, ready for the blow, but Mr Fan simply pointed at Jade, glared and said, ‘You. Up, then down.’ He flung his arm towards the escarpment path.
Jamie saw a smile threaten the side of Jade’s mouth.
Mr Fan held his hand in front of her face, his three middle fingers extended. ‘Three times,’ he said.
Jade’s lips formed a tense white line. ‘Yes, Sifu,’ she said, bowing deeply. ‘I am sorry.’
‘No, you’re not,’ Mr Fan said. ‘And that is why it’s three times.’
Jade shrugged. Jamie could tell by the smile that finally broke free that she thought the punishment well and truly worth it. She jogged to the escarpment path and started her run to the top. Mr Fan shook his head, but Jamie could see that Mr Fan was very proud of her.
‘What did she do?’ Jamie asked.
‘She just proved a theory.’
Before Jamie could ask what that theory was, Mr Fan held his hand up to silence him. He whipped around to face the jungle and crouched low, his arms high in defence, his eyes focused on the mountainside. Jamie didn’t see anything, but he crouched into a stance and squared up as well.
‘Someone’s watching,’ Mr Fan said.
Jamie willed himself to see into the jungle’s shadows. ‘Where?’ he whispered.
‘Don’t you feel it?’ Mr Fan said, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. Jamie scanned the trees.
Mr Fan opened his eyes. ‘Over there,’ he said, ‘beside the path.’
Jamie thought of Jade and worried she was heading into danger. Then they heard a sharp, high-pitched sound — a wolf whistle. It was stopped short by an echoing thud. Seconds later, Morris and Wesley stumbled into the clearing, both with bewildered expressions on their faces, Morris with a fresh and telling red mark on his chin.
Morris spotted the scattered poles. ‘That’s a waste of time,’ he said to Mr Fan. ‘This boy’s totally useless.’
Mr Fan smiled and Jamie was a little offended. ‘Oh, you might be surprised,’ Mr Fan said. ‘You never can tell what’s under the surface.’
Morris made a point of looking Jamie up and down, then he rolled one of the poles under his foot. ‘You should move with the times, old man.’ He glared at Mr Fan. ‘We train on a pressure-sensitive mat — ever seen one of those? It measures weight distribution and can train you in a thousand different techniques without all this.’ He waved dismissively at the poles.
‘Ingenious,’ Mr Fan said. ‘It sounds like the mat may not be the only thing sensitive to pressure at your training facility.’
‘What?’ Morris said.
Jamie smiled.
‘Sometimes it’s the risk of failure that spurs you on,’ Mr Fan said. ‘I can’t imagine what risk there is on a mat.’
‘I’ll show you risk, old man,’ Morris said and jumped into a defensive stance, his hand bent over his forearm like a cobra about to strike.
Mr Fan waved away the challenge. ‘Stop it, child. I’m an old man.’
‘When you insult my training, you insult my Sifu and you insult me.’
Mr Fan smiled. ‘You are making an excuse to fight.’
He turned his back on Morris and bent to reposition the poles. Jamie saw Morris tense his arm to strike and he stepped to intercept the blow.
Wesley read what was happening too and grabbed Morris’s fist and held it back. ‘He’s old, dude.’
Mr Fan exaggerated a grunting noise as he righted the poles. ‘Come on, boy,’ he said to Morris when the poles were standing. ‘Show us one of your thousand techniques.’
Morris looked at the poles and at Jamie, then from Mr Fan to Wesley. He came to some sort of conclusion and stepped towards the poles. He crouched as if about to leap up, but instead flicked his leg out and spun into a swinging kick. Mr Fan turned away, but not quickly enough. Morris’s kick clipped him on the shoulder. Mr Fan staggered. Jamie lunged for Morris, but Mr Fan turned into Jamie’s path and stopped him mid-stride. Jamie strained against Mr Fan’s grip, desperate to wipe the smile from Morris’s face.
‘There,’ Morris said, ‘how’s that for technique?’
Jamie twisted to free himself and saw Jade watching from the escarpment path. She slipped into the cover of the jungle.
Mr Fan nodded. ‘You certainly exposed something, young man, but very little of it was technique.’
Morris smirked. ‘Come on, Wesley. The old man’s as pathetic
as the boat boy.’
He held his hand up for Wesley to high-five him and the boys walked off laughing.
As soon as they were gone, Jamie turned on Mr Fan. ‘Why did you let him get away with that?’
‘With what?’ Mr Fan asked innocently. ‘A little tap on the shoulder? You think I should attack a child because of a tap on the shoulder?’
‘He insulted you,’ Jamie said.
‘He tried to insult me,’ Mr Fan said. ‘It is only an insult if I’m offended. And, Jamie,’ he bent to look Jamie in the eye, ‘I chose not to be insulted.’
‘It’s that easy, is it?’ Jamie scoffed.
Mr Fan was very serious. ‘Yes, it is.’
Jamie fell silent, thinking of how this was against everything his father had said about a man defending his honour. Mr Fan let Jamie think and double-tapped the poles as he headed back towards The Swift.
A loud whacking sound came from the escarpment path, drawing Jamie from his thoughts and stopping Mr Fan in his tracks. It was followed by a yelp of surprise, then a thundering crash, a thump, a squeal and some more crashing. Someone was tumbling down the mountain.
Jamie and Mr Fan tensed. Seconds later, Jade came strolling into the clearing, a thick length of bamboo slung over her shoulder.
‘Got to watch some of those bigger branches,’ she said. ‘They can really swing back at you.’
Mr Fan didn’t speak. He turned a deep scarlet colour and glared at Jade, then thrust his hand towards The Swift. Jade lowered her head and trudged towards the dock. As she passed, she looked up at Jamie and gave him the barest hint of a smile.
Later that day Jamie and Mr Fan headed to the southern point of the island, to where the South China Sea pounded the rocky shore. Jade was told to stay on The Swift.
Jamie stood on the rock platform, tentatively feeling with his foot to avoid the razor-sharp oyster shells and the slippery, slimy seaweed.
‘You’re sure this isn’t dangerous?’ Jamie yelled up to Mr Fan, who was warm and dry in the lee of the rocks.
‘Oh, I’m sure it is,’ Mr Fan called back. ‘I wouldn’t fall over if I were you.’
Jamie took a deep breath and waded in to waist height. He took a defensive stance.
