“A contusion is the fancy name for a bruise,” the doctor said to me as she handed Mom a prescription for pain medicine. “Rest and ice, and you’ll be good as new in a week or two.”
I grabbed Mom’s arm in a panic. “But my belt test is in eight days.”
“Let’s not worry about that just now,” Dad said.
“Honey, all I’m concerned about is getting you home and spoiling you rotten,” Mom said. “We’ll talk about it later.”
I suddenly felt too tired to argue.
The doctor left and a few minutes later, a nurse came back with an inflated thing that looked like a miniature life preserver. Mom called it a donut and said it was for sitting on.
“Cool,” Dad said. “It’s a sweet-cheek seat! Get it? Huh?”
“Or a tooshie cushie,” I said, getting into the spirit.
Dad and I looked at Mom, waiting to see what she’d say.
“You two are incorrigible,” she said. But then a devilish grin spread across her face. “I sure hope all these bun puns are done!”
MY BROTHER THE COMEDIAN
Mom got the rest of the day off. She helped me get set up on the couch with a DVD and then went to make chocolate-chip cookies. Dad went to the pharmacy.
A little ways into the movie, Sam came in the living room and slumped in the easy chair. “I cleaned up the bathroom for you,” he said.
“Thanks.”
He shrugged. “Whatever.”
He watched the movie for a minute or two and then stood up to go. “Anyway. I’m glad you’re not paralyzed or anything.”
“Thanks. I guess.”
“Hey, at least now you know how I feel when you’re around,” he said.
“Whadda ya mean?”
“You know,” he said with a crooked grin. “You got a pain in your butt.”
That made us both crack up.
TANGLED
It took forever to climb the stairs at bedtime because I had to go one foot up, rest, other foot up, rest. Mom and Dad said I could sleep downstairs on the couch if I wanted, but I wanted to sleep in my own bed.
“Been a long day, huh?” Mom said as she helped me with my covers.
“You can say that again.”
“You’re going to feel so much better tomorrow. I promise.”
Mom flipped on my night-light and sat on the edge of my mattress to lightly rub circles on my back. It felt so good, like my body was floating. Now that I was lying on my stomach, my tailbone didn’t hurt as much. The day drained away.
“I’ll have Dad call Master Kim tomorrow,” Mom said. “And let him know you’re done with class.”
My eyes popped open.
I rolled up on my side. “I can’t miss the test,” I told her.
“Honey, you’re hurt. Master Kim will understand.”
My thoughts were all tangled up. Now that I couldn’t take the test, I felt . . . what did I feel?
“But I have to take the test.”
Mom’s eyes narrowed. “Is this about the cake-decorating class? Don’t worry about that. You held up your end of the bargain and stuck with taekwondo. I’m proud of you. It isn’t your fault you can’t take the test. You can still take the fall cake class, okay?”
I rolled back on my stomach, and Mom started rubbing circles again. My thoughts were even more tangled.
I could take the cake-decorating class. It was what I’d been working for. It was what I’d wanted all along. That was great news. Wasn’t it?
The only thing was, I kept thinking about Flying Ninja Girl and Madison and my crisp, white dobok hanging in the laundry room. And how I’d finally done kicho il bo without having to think, and how good it felt when I’d figured out how to do a wrist escape and landed that back kick. I thought about my flash cards and how many times I practiced my push kick and how I’d been looking forward to breaking a board.
I thought about Master Kim tying a yellow belt around my waist.
I couldn’t believe that wasn’t going to happen. All because I did something stupid.
My days as a martial artist were over.
And I felt . . .
I felt sad.
THE PART WHERE I NEGOTIATE ANOTHER DEAL
As Mom headed to my bedroom door, I called out to her.
“What do you need, honey?”
“Can you not call Master Kim just yet?” I asked. “I mean, maybe I can still take the test.”
“But Eliza . . .”
“Can’t we wait and see how I feel? Please?”
Mom frowned. “I don’t want you to push yourself. A bruised coccyx is nothing to mess with.”
“If I take it easy and keep the ice on for the rest of the week?”
“Eliza Nicole Bing resting for a whole week?” Mom teased.
I ignored her. “But what if I do? Then can I?”
“We’ll see,” Mom said. “Now get some sleep.”
We’ll see.
At least there was hope.
THE COOL THING THAT HAPPENED THE NEXT MORNING
The next morning, Sam told me I had a message on the answering machine.
“I would have told you sooner,” he said. “But I forgot. Sorry.”
“Who was it?” I asked him.
“I can’t remember. I only heard the first part, and it was kind of confusing. Go listen yourself.”
I wobbled to the kitchen and saw the blinking light. It had to be Tony. Right? Who else would it be?
I pressed the PLAY button.
“Hey, Eliza. This is Annie.” (Only it came out as, “HeyElizathisisAnnie.”)
She went on. “I didn’t see you at orientation today. I was wondering who you got for homeroom. I got Ms. Naylor. Maybe you did, too. I hope so. Anyway, call me back when you get a chance. Or I guess I’ll see you on the first day of school. Man, I can’t believe summer is almost over. That stinks. Well, um. Okay. Bye. And oh, I can’t remember if I said it or not, in case I didn’t, this is Annie. Bye.”
The machine beeped to let me know the message had ended. I stared at the light, which wasn’t blinking anymore. I tried to decide if I should erase the message or keep it. I played it one more time. Just to make sure I’d heard it right.
Huh. Annie looked for me. And she’d called me.
I was surprised and shocked. Kind of like that day I got hit in the lip at taekwondo. The day Master Kim said to watch out for small movements because they gave away hints of bigger things to come.
FRIENDS?
Annie had never called me before. It was kind of a miracle, actually. And I started wondering if one miracle could turn into two, so I picked up the phone.
I called Tony at the bakery. I’m glad the person who answered didn’t ask who was calling because I think I would have chickened out if I had to give my name.
“Oh, hey. What’s up?” Tony said after I said hello. He didn’t sound excited.
“Hi.” I bit my lip. “I just wanted to wish you a happy late birthday.”
He didn’t say anything right away. Maybe he thought I was trying to make him feel bad about not inviting me to his party. But that wasn’t it. Despite everything, he was my friend. I really meant it about wishing him a happy birthday.
“Thanks,” Tony finally said. There was another long pause. “I would’ve invited you, but I didn’t think you wanted to come.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because at the mall you acted all mad at me or something,” Tony said.
For the second time in an hour, I was shocked. “I wasn’t mad,” I explained. “I was just trying not to embarrass you in front of that Kevin guy.”
“Well, that’s how it seemed,” Tony said.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I guess I messed up.”
Tony was quiet. But I could hear people in the bakery in the background. I wondered if the cranky cake decorator was nearby, glaring at him.
“I’m sorry, too,” Tony said. “Look, I can’t talk now. The bakery is super busy.”
I wa
sn’t ready to let him go. But I didn’t really have a choice. “Okay,” I said. “Friends?”
I held my breath.
“Sure,” Tony said brightly.
But I could tell he was just being nice.
Maybe he was just being nice all along.
MOXIE
I’d spent almost three days carrying around my inflatable donut and icing my tailbone until it was numb, but Dad still wanted to call Master Kim and tell him I wouldn’t be in class.
“I’m fine,” I told him, walking across the room to show him how I could do it without wincing.
“What about kicking, though?”
I pulled my leg up to do a push kick in the air.
Even though I tried to keep a poker face, Dad said, “You’re grimacing.”
“It’s not that bad,” I protested. “Besides, a good martial artist pushes through pain.” Master Kim never actually said that, but I thought it sounded good.
“Mom and I admire your moxie,” Dad told me. “But a belt test isn’t more important than your health.”
I went back to the couch with my ice and another ibuprofen while Dad picked up the phone.
I didn’t want moxie or anyone’s admiration. I wanted my yellow belt.
TORTURE
I took it easy for the rest of the week. I memorized all of my flash cards and visualized the basic motions, my form and wrist escape and board break so many times that I could do them in my sleep.
I wondered if it was possible to go crazy from sitting on a couch.
TEST DAY
Saturday.
Test day.
I woke up with a queasy feeling, but I got out of bed and brushed my teeth. It was only six-thirty, and no one else was awake. When school started again in four days, everyone would be getting up that early. (The thought of school made me even queasier.)
I crept downstairs. I felt a little stiff, but my tailbone didn’t hurt too much. Bear got up off her rug and whined, so I opened the back door. I followed her out to the yard.
The wet grass was cool against my feet. It was quiet, and the air smelled new, like the night had scrubbed everything clean. I turned and closed my eyes. The sun warmed my face, and I took a deep breath and held it as long as I could. My queasy feeling went away.
Bear began to bark, and I opened my eyes to find her sitting in front of me.
“Sorry, girl,” I said, laughing. “Didn’t mean to freak you out.”
Bear stayed planted.
“Go play, you silly dog. You’ve got this whole big yard.”
Hmm. Big yard . . . I had plenty of space. And no one was looking except Bear.
I inhaled slowly and lowered my hands into ready position. Then I did kicho il bo. It was the first time I’d done it for real (not in my head) in almost a week. I moved slowly, thinking about the wet grass and my tender tailbone.
It wasn’t as powerful as normal, but I did it.
“Hey, girl!” I said to Bear. “Did you see that?”
Bear barked and ran after a bird. While she played, I tried out a few more moves. I could block and punch and kick. I even tried my push kick. My tailbone didn’t hurt too much as long as I was careful.
Bear and I stayed out a bit longer and played catch with an old tennis ball. When we finally went back inside, I was surprised to see Dad standing in the kitchen, arranging vitamin bottles on the sink windowsill.
“Give me a second, and I’ll get your medicine,” he said when he saw me.
“Okay.”
I leaned against the table and waited as Dad poured himself coffee. I tried to come up with the perfect way to convince him my tailbone was healed enough for me to take the test.
The weird thing was, it didn’t take much convincing.
“Today’s the big day, huh?” Dad asked. “Do you think you’re up for it?”
“Yes,” I said.
Dad studied me for a moment. “Alrighty then. I’d better make you a good breakfast. How about pancakes?”
“Dad’s making pancakes?” Mom said, walking in. “What’s the occasion?”
“Test day,” I told her.
Mom put her hands on her hips, looked at Dad, and then back at me.
“I thought we settled this,” she said. “You can’t test with a bruised tailbone.”
“But it’s okay now,” I told her. “It doesn’t hurt that much.”
“Eliza, sweetie . . .” Mom started.
“I want to, Mom.”
Dad handed Mom a cup of coffee. “She’s worked hard. What’s the harm in letting her try?” he asked her. “If she thinks she’s up for it, maybe we should trust her.”
Mom moved to the fridge to grab some milk for her coffee. “So apparently I’m being ganged up on here.” She was trying to sound like she was joking, but I could tell she was unhappy.
“Honey,” Dad told her gently, “she’s kept her end of the bargain.”
Mom knitted her eyebrows and looked at me.
“I promise I’ll stop if it hurts,” I told her. “But I need to try. If I don’t, I’ll always wonder if I could’ve done it.”
Mom walked across the kitchen, and put her arm around my shoulders. “Man, you’re getting mature,” she said. “And tall! When did that happen?”
“I don’t know. When you weren’t paying attention?”
I meant it as a joke, but Mom’s eyes got all teary.
“Fine,” she said, pulling out a smile. “I guess it’s pancakes all around for test day.”
CHOONBI (READY POSITION)
The queasy feeling returned as I got in line with all the other taekwondo students. Madison explained that we were supposed to sign in before the test.
“No offense, but you look a little green,” she said.
I shrugged, hoping my pancakes stayed where they were.
“It’s probably nerves,” Madison said. “It’ll be fine once we start.”
“Are you nervous?” I asked.
“Yeah. A little,” she said as she tightened her belt for the third time. “I really want to move up to the intermediate class.”
The lined moved quickly. “Your turn,” Madison said after she’d signed in.
I picked up the pencil on the table, leaned over the sign-up sheet, and scribbled my name, just wanting to get the whole test thing started. I was about to hand the pencil to the kid behind me when something caught my eye.
Madison’s name. Right above mine. Instead of large, loopy letters, it was in tiny, tight little letters. And there were no swirls above her i’s.
My heart jumped into my throat.
Maybe she’d changed her handwriting since she wrote the Every Day Eliza note. That was possible, right? Maybe she’d decided to go with a more mature signature since we were going into middle school. Or maybe she only dotted her i’s in a swirly way when she was with her friends. Or on mean notes.
But none of that made any sense.
I snapped my head up and looked at Madison, who by that time was busy talking to someone else. It was like a strange, time-travel thing—as if Past Me had known her for a long time but Here-and-Now Me was just meeting her for the first time. And right then I knew. I don’t know how, but I knew it deep in my bones. She hadn’t changed her handwriting; she’d told the truth about the note last year. She hadn’t been the one who’d given me the nickname. I’d been wrong all this time. Why hadn’t I seen that before?
And if I’d been wrong about Madison, what else had I been wrong about?
What if I was wrong about being ready for the test?
JUDGES AND JELLY LEGS
Parents were allowed to watch the test, and I saw Mom wave from her spot along the wall. Dad fiddled with his camera. I was happy Mom traded shifts with someone at the last minute, but having them both there made me more nervous.
“Hey, where’s your mom?” I asked Madison.
“She doesn’t come to tests. My dad brought me. He’s over there,” she said pointing. “He’s the one who pays for al
l my classes and gear anyway. He used to take taekwondo, too. When he was a teenager.”
“Oh,” I said. That’s all I could come up with. I was too nervous and still trying to wrap my brain around what I’d found out about Madison and the note. I suspected that was going to take a while. But I didn’t have time right then and there. I had to focus on the test.
I looked around at the other students. Some were standing like Madison and me. Others were running in place or practicing their forms.
I tried to avoid looking at the front of the room. I’d made that mistake when I first came in. There was a long table there. The table was covered with a black cloth, which had a bunch of gold Korean writing on it. On top of it were about a dozen folded belts. Most of them were yellow. There were a few other colors, too. But what was scary was the three chairs behind the table.
I imagined the test being like a normal class. I didn’t think it would be so formal. Or have three judges.
At exactly ten o’clock Master Kim and two other black belts came in and walked in front of the table.
“Good luck,” Madison whispered in my ear. “Don’t be nervous, be awesome.”
“Thanks,” I said, “Good luck to you, too.”
“Students,” Master Kim called, “Charyut!”
I stood at attention like everyone else. After Master Kim called roll, he lined us up by belt color. For a change, the white belts were in the front. This didn’t help my nervous stomach. Next he introduced the two guest judges. One was his father, and the other one was his brother. That only made me more nervous. Three masters in one place!
Master Kim bowed us in and wished us luck. Then he and the other judges sat down behind the table. The room went quiet, and my legs went to jelly.
We warmed up with jumping jacks. Landing on both feet at the same time made my tailbone hurt. I tried landing one foot at a time and kicking the other foot out, and that helped. I hoped Master Kim wouldn’t notice I was doing the jumping jacks a different way from everyone else.
Eliza Bing Is (NOT) a Big, Fat Quitter Page 10
