“It’s my own fault,” Dad said. “I wrote myself a note weeks ago to have them looked at. I just got busy and forgot.”
“When am I going to practice driving?” Sam asked.
Dad shrugged. “At night, I guess.”
“How are you going to get to school?” I asked.
“Mom and I will have to work something out,” Dad said.
“How am I going to get to taekwondo?” I said.
“Don’t worry,” Dad said. “I’ve got a ride all lined up for you on the days Mom needs the car. I think you’re even friends with the other girl.” Dad smiled. “Her name is Madison.”
ARG
It was bad enough I had to be in the same room with Madison. Now I had to be in the same car with her.
Peach pits.
COOKIE
The next afternoon, I still couldn’t believe it. I was stuck riding to taekwondo with Madison just because Dad forgot to take his car in for repair when the brake light came on. He’d written himself a note. I saw it myself! This was all his fault.
Madison was in the front seat. (Thank the stars.) A pile of department-store bags took up half of the back seat. I climbed into the car and shoved my gym bag at my feet. Madison gave me a weak hello, and I muttered one back.
“Thanks for giving me a ride, Mrs. Green,” I said to Madison’s mother, remembering Dad’s instructions.
“Oh, please, sweetheart. Call me Cookie!”
I wondered if that was her real name or a nickname. But I figured it might be rude to ask so I just said, “Um. Okay.”
Cookie gave me a sparkly toothy grin in the rearview mirror, turned up the radio, and backed out of my driveway.
I was glad the music was loud because that way I didn’t have to talk to Madison. The two of us looked out our windows while Cookie sang along to songs on WQFM80.5, the Awesome Eighties All-the-Time station.
At a red light, Madison’s mother turned down the radio and declared, “My heavens. You two are awfully quiet.”
When Madison and I didn’t respond, Cookie kept talking. “So, Eliza. Are you looking forward to starting middle school?”
I lied and told her I was. Adults never want to hear the truth about these kinds of things anyway.
“You’re lucky,” Cookie said. “Madison is so nervous about it.”
I was surprised. After all Madison had plenty of friends and always made the honor roll.
Cookie glanced over at Madison. “Speaking of which, when are we going shopping for your back-to-school clothes? Things are on sale now, and you obviously didn’t like what I picked out for you.”
Cookie threw a disgusted look at the bags in the backseat when she said this last part.
“That’s because you pick out ugly stuff,” Madison said.
“Well, forgive me for trying to spoil my only daughter and broaden her fashion horizons,” Cookie said in that I’m-teasing-but-I’m-really-kinda-mad way parents sometimes do.
Madison sighed. “I like the clothes I have.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cookie said. “You can’t very well go to school wearing the same thing day after day.”
I looked down at my shorts and used my hand to cover a stain. Every Day Eliza popped into my head.
Madison and her mom stopped talking.
Cookie gave up on Madison and came back to me. “So, Eliza. Are you going to try out for any teams or do any clubs in middle school?”
I wasn’t, but Mom said answering just “yes” or “no” was rude. So I said, “I haven’t decided yet.”
“Maddie Pie hasn’t decided yet, either,” Cookie said.
The back of Madison’s neck turned pink. “Mooomm!”
“What?” Cookie asked. “The name? Oh, for goodness’ sake. I’m sorry.”
Cookie sat up straighter and looked in the rearview mirror with a grin. “You didn’t hear that, right, Eliza?”
“No,” I said. (What else was I supposed to say?)
“See. No need to be embarrassed,” Cookie said. “Besides, if you want to be embarrassed about something, it should be giving up cheerleading to concentrate on a sport like taekwondo.” Cookie winced. “No offense, Eliza,” she said in a cheerful voice.
Madison looked at her mom and opened and closed her mouth a few times, kind of like a goldfish. But in the end, she didn’t say anything. I was too surprised to say anything, either.
Hadn’t Cookie ever seen Flying Ninja Girl break a board or watched Master Kim go through a form perfectly?
And didn’t she know how good Madison was at it?
Cookie went back to singing with the radio, and Madison and I went back to listening to her in silence.
“Have fun, you two,” Cookie said when she dropped us off. “I’ve got some returns to make. I’ll be back in an hour.”
As Cookie pulled away, Madison looked at me and then down at her flip-flops. “Sorry about what my mom said. She thinks taekwondo is for boys.”
Madison Green just apologized to me for something. Who is this? I wondered. Sometimes people have evil twins. Maybe Madison had a nice twin instead.
I was so shocked, I just shrugged my bag higher up on my shoulder. “That’s okay,” I said. “I have a mom, too.”
Madison looked up and gave me a half smile. “Thanks,” she said.
MY MOM HAS NO IMAGINATION
A couple of days later, I decided to practice my push kick. I still couldn’t find my handbook. And I was getting a little panicked. But at least I could work on my board break for my test. It wasn’t very satisfying to kick the air: I couldn’t tell if I was landing my foot on the imaginary target either so I improvised.
After I got tired of practicing my push kick, I decided to try a flying side kick like I’d seen the black belt do at the demo. But I found out wanting to do something isn’t anywhere near being able to do something. It’s probably best not to ask exactly how I found this out. Or how I know that Mom has no imagination and strenuously believes mattresses are for going on beds and not up against walls.
MALL, SHMALL
I was playing sock tug-of-war with Bear when Mom walked into the living room.
“The stores are having a Tuesday two-for-one sale,” she said. “Are you up for some shopping and lunch?”
I wasn’t all that crazy about the mall. Too many people, too many choices, and too much noise. But I needed some plain white underwear for taekwondo days and wanted to look for a birthday present for Tony. Plus, it’d been forever since Mom and I had done something together.
“We could have lunch at that Chinese restaurant you like,” she said in a singsongy way. “Crab rangoons.”
One whole day alone with Mom. And rangoons.
“I’m in,” I told her.
Right before we backed out of the garage, Mom put the car in park and unclipped her seat belt. “Oops. I forgot my phone, and I’m on call. I’ll be right back.”
On call. It figured. It seemed that even when Mom wasn’t working, she was on call.
When we got to the mall, Mom wanted to look for new tennis shoes she’d heard other ER nurses raving about. We went into a few places, and I got stuck sitting on the bench while Mom wandered down the rows of shoes looking for the right brand.
“What do you think?” Mom asked as she modeled a pair of super-ugly tennis shoes.
“They’re fine,” I said.
Mom studied my face for a bit. Then she yanked off the shoes and put them back into the box.
“All right,” she said. “Ditching my errand. Let’s go do yours.” She was trying to sound cheerful but I could tell she was annoyed.
Good.
In the underwear section, I pretended to be looking at some socks while Mom went through the underwear packages. “What size do you wear, Eliza?”
“I dunno,” I told her.
Even though I don’t think she was supposed to, she opened a package and took out a pair of underwear. She walked over and held them up to my waist. “I think these will work,” she said.
>
I stepped away as fast as I could. “Mooomm!” An older lady walked by and smiled.
“Relax,” Mom said. “It’s no big deal. Everyone wears underwear.”
Relax. That was easy for Mom to say. She saw kids’ underwear all the time when they came into the emergency room. Bodies were no big deal to her.
I pointed to the white underwear she was holding. “Those are good,” I said. “Can I go wait outside while you pay?”
THE PART WHERE I WAS COOL
There were leather chairs just outside the store by the escalators. I plopped down on one and waited for Mom.
“You guys stay here,” a familiar girl’s voice said. “I’ll be right back. I mean it. Don’t go anywhere.”
I turned my head and saw Tony, his sister, and some guy I didn’t know.
Tony’s sister ducked into the coffee shop. Tony and his friend headed over to the seats, shoving each other off balance and laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world.
When he got a few feet away, Tony noticed me. “Oh, hey,” he said. I couldn’t tell if he was happy to see me or surprised or what.
“Hi,” I said.
The kid next to Tony snickered and punched his shoulder. “Who’s your girlfriend?”
Tony looked as uncomfortable as I felt. “Uh. This is just Eliza,” he said. “Not my girlfriend.”
I turned to the stranger. “Who are you?”
“This is Kevin,” Tony said. “He’s on the basketball team.”
“Did you go to a different school?” I asked Kevin. He didn’t look familiar.
“He’s gonna be an eighth-grader,” Tony explained.
An eighth-grader? Wow. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. Everyone liked Tony. He was cool.
He didn’t look so cool at the moment, though. Tony shifted from foot to foot and kept looking back and forth between me and Kevin. Why was he nervous?
It suddenly occurred to me Tony was trying to impress Kevin. Trying out for the basketball team was really important to Tony, and maybe Kevin was helping him practice. Maybe Tony thought I’d do something embarrassing. He’d never cared what people said about me before, but maybe it was different now.
I decided to show him he had nothing to worry about. I could act casual. That’s what friends did in a pinch. Even friends who were mad at each other.
“So how’s the taekwondo class going?” Tony asked.
I shrugged. (Shrugging was casual. Right?) “Good,” I said. “How ’bout your class?”
“It’s fun,” Tony said. “Um, anything else interesting going on?” he asked.
“Nope.” I was so proud of myself for not rambling on about the miniature cakes and seeing Sweet Caroline at the festival.
Tony looked around. “You here by yourself?” he asked.
I pretended to be looking at something over his shoulder. “I’m waiting for my mom.”
Tony motioned to Kevin. “We’re waiting for my sister.”
I stopped myself from saying I already knew that. See. I could be cool when I needed to be. This was going so well! I hoped Tony appreciated it.
Kevin sighed. “Come on,” he said as he tugged on Tony’s sleeve. “Let’s go down and get samples at the cheese shop before your sister comes back.”
Tony hesitated and looked at me. “Well, see ya,” he said.
I tried to remember what Sam and his friends said when they were saying good-bye to each other. “Whatever,” I said. As soon as it was out of my mouth, I knew the word I was really looking for was later. But I hoped it was close enough. I’d tell Tony I was sorry for messing it up when I went to his birthday party.
Tony let Kevin pull him onto the escalator. Right before the two of them disappeared, I got a glimpse of Tony’s face. I don’t know why, but something about his expression made me feel sad.
RANGOONS AND RAIN CHECKS
Mom came out of the store a few minutes later. “Ready for lunch?”
The Chinese restaurant in the mall was one of my favorite places to eat. The walls were red, and dozens of white paper lanterns hung from the ceiling. It also had the best crab rangoons in the world.
We beat the lunch crowd, so Mom and I were seated right away. We got a double order of rangoons. “We probably won’t be hungry for our actual lunches after these,” Mom said when the plate arrived.
“I’ll give you a dollar if you can pick up a rangoon with your chopsticks,” Mom challenged me. “And eat it before it drops.”
I smiled. “You’re on.” I was a pro with chopsticks, and Mom knew it.
I got it on the first try. “Ha!” I said. “Pay up.” Mom laughed and pulled out her wallet.
“Here,” she said. “Milk money.”
I was confused.
Mom rolled her eyes. “Sheesh,” she said. “Way to make me feel old. Milk money is what kids used to buy their milk at school before lunch debit cards,” she explained.
“Oh, okay,” I said. Mom and I finished the appetizers.
The milk money thing got me worrying about middle school again. Maybe this was the perfect time to talk to Mom about it. It was just the two of us. No Sam to tease me about being a baby or Dad to give me a pep talk about how making friends was easy if you would just be yourself. How were you supposed to be yourself if no one liked the real you?
“Mom—?”
The server walked over with our tray. “Be careful,” she said, setting down our entrees. “The plates are warm.”
I was about to try again when Mom’s phone chirped. She flipped it open and read the text.
“E. I’m so sorry,” she said. “Apparently the ER is swamped, and I gotta go in.”
“What about lunch?” I said.
“I guess we’ll have to wrap it up and take it home,” Mom said. “I’ll make it up to you soon. Rain check?”
“Sure,” I said. “If you say so.”
“I’m on call, sweetie,” Mom said. “I don’t have a choice.”
“Yeah. Okay,” I said as flatly as I could. I knew she hated it when I did that.
Mom’s face hardened. “Please don’t be this way, Eliza.”
“How am I supposed to be?” I knew I was whining but didn’t care.
“You’re old enough to understand,” Mom said. “The hospital needs me.”
I bit my bottom lip to stop it from trembling.
But I need you, too, I thought.
TO-DO LIST
When I got home, I took one of Dad’s Sticky Notes and wrote my own to-do list. Then I put it on the inside of my closet door.
1. Keep giving Mom the silent treatment until she notices I’m not talking to her.
2. Practice push kick and GET A NEW HANDBOOK!
3. Survive a couple more rides with I-dot-my-i’s-with-swirls Madison.
4. Decide what to get Tony for his birthday.
BAD TIMING
After the first ride, I didn’t think Madison and I were suddenly friends; but I was still surprised when she didn’t say anything other than hello on the way to class the next day.
She and Cookie were scowling, too. I decided to pretend I was invisible.
I adjusted the backseat air-condition vent. It was too hot to move, let alone be wearing a long-sleeved dobok. Ugh. Master Kim said wearing the uniforms was tradition. But I still wished we could wear T-shirts and shorts.
My bangs were dripping by the time Master Kim told us to pair up for drills. I tried to catch Rosa’s eye, but I didn’t move fast enough and ended up with Mark instead.
We practiced blocking punches. It didn’t go well.
Each time Mark threw a punch, I tried to knock his arm out of the way like I was supposed to. But I messed up every single time. My brain could see the punches coming. I just couldn’t get the message to my arm fast enough. I was always half a second behind.
“Here,” he said. “Let me try. Throw a punch.”
I took aim at his chest and stepped forward with a kihap.
Bam!
Mark’s forearm smashed into mine and sent my punch off course.
I tried a few more times. I even tried to fake him out once or twice. But with almost every punch, he got the block.
“You want to try again?” Mark asked.
I didn’t really want to, but I nodded anyway.
Mark threw a few punches. Slower this time. I managed to kind of block one or two of them.
Hey! Maybe I was getting the hang of this.
The fourth punch was faster, though. Mark took a long step forward and threw his fist at my chest. I saw it coming and put my left arm up to block. But I knocked it up instead of away.
Ow-za!
My hand flew to my upper lip.
“Oh. Crud! I’m sorry!” Mark said when he realized he’d hit me. “Are you okay?”
“I think so,” I told him. “Is it bleeding?”
I pulled my hand away, and he examined my face. “No. It’s just red. I’m really sorry.”
One of the black-belt helpers handed me one of those pop-and-shake ice packs. “Here. This’ll keep the swelling down.”
“I didn’t mean to hit her,” Mark said.
“It happens,” the black belt told him. “Control is a tricky thing.”
Then he turned to me. “Timing is a tricky thing, too. Don’t worry. You’ll get it.”
The black belt walked away, and Mark kept apologizing. I told him about a dozen times it was okay.
Before Master Kim dismissed class, he had us sit down in our places.
“I’d like to give some advice about blocking,” he said.
He wasn’t looking my way, but I knew the advice was meant for me. I felt my cheeks get even warmer than they already were from class.
“Watch for little movements,” Master Kim said. “Little movements give away bigger things to come.”
It sounded like something you’d read in a fortune cookie. Great. I hated fortune cookies. They always crumbled.
After class Madison came up to me. “How’s your lip?”
I shrugged. “Okay I guess.”
“That’s good,” she said and then headed toward the door.
Eliza Bing Is (NOT) a Big, Fat Quitter Page 7
