The boys’ locker room was pretty basic—wooden benches, metal lockers, a vague smell of sweat. There were a few other kids there getting changed. Some of them looked as if they couldn’t figure out exactly how to put on the karate uniform. All of them looked kind of . . . awkward. Maybe even dorky. It was weird.
“It’s called a gi,” I heard Billy Lee say. I followed his voice around a row of lockers to find him lecturing an overweight kid who was halfway dressed in a Rising Phoenix karate uniform.
“A gee?” the overweight kid repeated doubtfully.
“Yes. Traditionally there was no real uniform for karate, but when the discipline entered the modern age, the gi was adopted as the uniform of choice,” Billy said.
I bit back a smile. It was obvious: Billy Lee was a karate geek.
“So Billy, you know a lot about this stuff,” I said. I grabbed an open locker nearby and tossed my jacket and shoes inside. “How long have you been taking classes here?”
“Two months,” Billy said. “But I found out all the history stuff myself. I like to know the background of any new hobby I start.” His cheeks turned red.
“That’s cool,” I assured him.
“I think so. Anyway, Sensei Huang doesn’t talk about that—he’s more into putting karate to use in our everyday lives.”
That sounded a little weird. “You mean fighting people for real?” I asked.
“No. Well, not unless you need to,” Billy said.
“Why would you need to?” I asked. Billy looked way too small to have any chance in a fight, no matter how much karate he knew.
“Just, you know . . .” Billy took a step closer and lowered his voice. “Like there’s this jerk at my school. He’s been pushing me around since I was little. And when I told Sensei Huang about it, he offered to give me private lessons.”
I shot Frank a look, and he raised his eyebrows. “Private lessons, so you could fight this bully?” Frank asked.
Billy frowned. “Not really. He said private lessons would make me more adept and quick. You know, so I could have the self-confidence to stand up for myself.”
“That sounds good,” the overweight kid added. “I’m sick of people making fun of me.” He finished tying his white belt and headed off toward the dojo.
I pulled out my gi and began to put it on. So did Frank.
“So you must know all about Sensei Huang’s background, huh?” Frank casually asked Billy. “Since you do so much research.”
“Nah. I couldn’t find any info on him,” Billy said. “But I don’t care. He’s a great teacher. And he’s really into Eastern medicine and stuff. He’s giving me some Chinese herbs to help me bulk up and to keep me focused.”
I couldn’t help but notice that Billy was still dressed in his khakis and button-down shirt. “Aren’t you gonna change?” I asked.
“Oh. No, today’s just for orientation,” Billy said. “The beginners’ class doesn’t meet until Tuesday. But it’s cool that you guys are joining!”
“What are you doing here, then?” Frank asked.
“Sensei Huang asked me to come in today and talk to Finn.” Billy shrugged. “Maybe my mom is late with the tuition check or something.”
“Ready, Frank?” I asked.
He nodded. “Let’s go.”
“Have a good class, you guys,” Billy said with a shy smile. “I’ll see you on Tuesday.”
“Later, Billy,” I said. “It was good to meet you.”
Frank and I went out into the dojo. The overweight boy from the locker room sat on the mats with five other kids. They all nodded and smiled at us when we came in, except for the one girl. She sat by herself at the back of the room and didn’t even bother to look at us. One of the boys and the girl looked around my age, but the rest of them were younger. I was surprised to see that none of them looked very athletic. They were all either too skinny or too heavy, and most of them seemed kind of small. I glanced over at my brother. He was at least six inches taller than every other kid in the room.
I hope we don’t stand out too much in the beginners’ class, I thought. The mission would be doomed if we couldn’t manage to stay undercover. We sat down on the mats and tried to look smaller.
As soon as our butts hit the floor, the office door opened and Paul Huang came out. I wondered if he’d been watching the dojo through his window.
“Welcome,” Huang said in a quiet voice. “I’m Paul Huang, the sensei of this school. I’m glad to see you all here at the Rising Phoenix.” As he talked, he looked every one of us in the eye, holding each student’s gaze for a few seconds before moving on.
That was an old cop’s technique, I knew. Dad always said that making eye contact was the easiest way to assert yourself and show your strength. Huang had it down.
“I’m sure all of you have an idea of what it means to study karate,” Huang was saying. “Some people think karate is about fighting. But it’s not. It’s about discipline.” He stared at the overweight boy. “Self-discipline.”
A thin, gangly boy raised his hand. “We’re not gonna learn to kick and fight?” he asked in a nasal voice.
“You will,” Huang said. “But those are only moves. The more important lesson you will learn is to trust yourself. To control your body with your mind. The true martial artist will rarely fight, because he—or she—will rarely need to. The true martial artist projects an aura of strength that makes him intimidating to others.”
I wasn’t quite sure he was right about that, but then again, my martial arts training was limited to playing video games and watching Jackie Chan movies.
“How do you get that aura?” the girl asked. I was surprised to hear her speak up—she was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, and she still hadn’t looked at anyone else. I’d assumed she was supershy.
Sensei Huang smiled. “Like I said, discipline. Self-control leads to self-confidence. Self-confidence leads to self-esteem. And that leads to greater happiness in all areas of your life. Trust me, everyone. Once you know how to control your body, you’ll know how to control your whole life.”
I had to force myself not to roll my eyes. I’d expected a karate master to be breaking wooden boards with his bare hands, not giving us a touchy-feely speech about self-confidence. But looking around the room, I noticed the other kids nodding, their eyes shining. Obviously they didn’t share my annoyance at Sensei Huang’s lecture. And it wasn’t too hard to figure out why. These kids all seemed perfectly nice. But they weren’t exactly the type of people who ended up popular in school. They could all probably use a self-esteem boost.
So maybe Sensei Huang’s method wasn’t so bad after all.
“Let me explain how a typical class will go here at the Rising Phoenix,” Huang went on. He waved us all to our feet. “We begin with the traditional Japanese bow, to show our respect for each other and for the art of karate.” He gave a little bow.
I bowed back. The other kids glanced at me and did the same.
Sensei Huang met my eyes and smiled a little, but I got the sense that he was studying me. I quickly looked down. I didn’t want to draw too much attention to myself. From the corner of my eye, I could see Frank staring at his feet too.
“In the beginners’ class, we will be studying kihon,” Huang said. “These are the basic building blocks of karate: striking, blocking, kicking, and punching.”
He went on describing the types of moves we would have to learn before we could continue on to more advanced karate. As he talked, I glanced around at the other students. They were all listening intently. I let my gaze wander over to the huge windows at the side of the room. Billy Lee stood out in the hallway, talking to Finn. That was no big surprise—but the look on Billy’s face was.
The kid was practically crying. His face was bright red, and he kept shaking his head while Finn talked to him.
I couldn’t drag my eyes away from Billy. He’d been so happy in the locker room and outside. What could have happened to make him so upset now
?
Billy tried to say something, but Finn cut him off. Finally Billy just turned and ran for the front door. I thought I saw him brush away a tear as he went.
Finn Campbell turned and looked right into the dojo, his eyes on Sensei Huang.
I glanced at the sensei. Huang was staring back at Finn with an alert expression on his face. I got the feeling that he’d been watching the whole exchange. But he just kept giving his introduction speech without missing a beat.
This guy is smooth, I thought.
“Enough talk,” Huang said suddenly. “I’m sure you’d all like a demonstration of a few of these moves we’re discussing.”
The other kids all nodded, so I did too.
“Okay, I’m going to show you a basic combination. You’ll have to master all these moves before you can advance out of the beginners’ class,” Huang explained. “I need some help to demonstrate this, so I’ve asked one of my top students to join us.”
He waved to the back of the room. I turned, surprised. I hadn’t noticed anybody come into the dojo.
And when I saw the top student who was coming up to help Huang, my surprise turned to outright shock. Because there, in all his gawky, shy glory, was one of my best friends: Chet Morton!
4
Nerd Master
I couldn’t believe it! Chet, at the Rising Phoenix? It made no sense. Chet’s a great guy and all, but he’s not exactly brave. Or strong. Or athletic. And right now, he stood in front of the class blinking furiously with one eye and making weird faces.
When Sensei Huang raised his hand and did a lunge punch—his fist flying straight at Chet’s face—I almost ran up there to stop him. I mean, it was Chet! What could he do to defend himself?
But when Huang’s fist got close to his head, Chet brought his arm up in a blocking move that kept Huang from hitting him. Next, Huang spun and kicked Chet in the chest. This time Chet went down. Still, even as he hit the ground, I could see he wasn’t hurt. In fact, it seemed like Huang’s foot had barely touched him. Just like that first punch had seemed designed to hit the air in front of Chet’s nose, rather than actually hitting Chet.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Huang was doing all the real work. All Chet had to do was show off one basic block, then fall down. And I knew from years of experience with Chet that he was good at falling down.
Everyone in the dojo gasped. Chet climbed back to his feet and bowed at Huang. The other kids all clapped as if that had been some serious karate. Obviously they hadn’t been watching as closely as I had.
I shot a glance at Joe. He nodded. He’d seen what I’d seen.
“Thanks, Chet,” Huang said.
Chet grinned from ear to ear and practically bounced back into the group of students. He was still blinking, but he headed toward the back of the dojo, looking proud of himself. I noticed the one girl in class smiling at him, her eyes shining. She stepped up really close to Chet as he walked by her. Now, I’m not too comfortable around girls. My brain just shuts off and I tend to act like a total dork. But compared to Chet? I’m Brad Pitt.
Chet doesn’t just act dorky around girls. He acts oblivious. As if he’s not even aware that there are girls on the planet. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him talk to a girl in our whole lives—and today was no exception. Chet noticed the girl smiling at him and he took off, fleeing back into the hallway that led to Huang’s office.
“That’s it for our orientation,” Huang was saying. “If anyone has questions, I’ll be happy to answer them one on one. Otherwise, I’ll see you all on Tuesday.”
I caught Joe watching me and shrugged. We both knew we should be talking to Huang. He’s the one we were here to investigate, after all. But we also both knew that we just had to talk to Chet ASAP. We had to know what he was doing in a martial arts school!
Joe and I left Huang fielding questions from two of the other kids. We took off after Chet and caught up to him in the locker room changing out of his gi.
“Hey, Chet,” I said, patting him on the back. “What’s going on?”
He jumped, then grinned when he saw us. “What are you guys doing here?” he asked, shoving his glasses up higher on his nose.
“Didn’t you see us in the beginners’ lecture?” Joe asked.
“No,” Chet said. “Were you there? I couldn’t see much. I can’t wear my glasses during karate. Too dangerous, you know? They might get cracked.”
“How can you do karate if you can’t see well?” I asked.
“Oh, I usually put in contact lenses. But I washed one down the sink before. So I had to do the whole demo with only one lens in.”
That explains the bizarro blinking, I thought. Poor Chet had really bad luck.
“I can never get the stupid things in right,” Chet muttered out loud. “I don’t understand why everybody loves them so much. What’s wrong with glasses?”
Joe clapped him on the back. “You did a pretty impressive job up there, considering you couldn’t see.”
“Yeah. What are you, a brown belt already?” I joked.
Chet blushed. “I hardly had to do anything,” he admitted. “Sensei Huang does all the work.”
“He must like you,” Joe said. “He said you’re one of his top students.”
Chet puffed up like a peacock. “I am a fast learner,” he said. “You guys will be joining my class, I guess. I’m kinda surprised you’re here.”
“How come?” I asked.
“Just, you know, the two of you always act so sure of yourselves. I wouldn’t expect you to take a class like this.”
“Well, I thought we were just learning karate. I didn’t expect all the self-esteem stuff,” Joe complained.
“Yeah. Sensei Huang has a pretty unique approach,” Chet said. “Do you want to meet him?”
“Definitely,” I said.
Chet led us out of the locker room and back into the hallway. The girl from class was hanging around near one of the office doors. Her whole face lit up when she saw Chet.
“Hi, Chet!” she chirped.
“Oh. Um, hi,” Chet mumbled. He seemed shocked that she was talking to him.
“You know, we didn’t really meet in class,” Joe said, smiling at her. “Why don’t you introduce us, Chet?”
I nudged him with my elbow. Poor Chet was obviously uncomfortable with this girl. Why did Joe have to torture him like this?
“Um . . . uh . . . Frank and Joe Hardy, this is Liz Campbell,” Chet stammered.
Immediately my brain clicked back into ATAC mode, and I could see that Joe’s did too. “Campbell?” I asked. “Are you related to Finn?”
Liz nodded. “He’s my dad.”
SUSPECT PROFILE
Name: Paul Huang
Hometown: Philadelphia, PA
Physical description: Age 26, 5’9”, 170 lbs. of lean, mean, fighting machine. Short dark hair, brown eyes. Asian American. Never wears any expression other than calm and controlled. Has a tattoo of a Chinese dragon on his forearm.
Occupation: Owns the Rising Phoenix Martial Arts School in Holtsville. Is the only sensei. Plans to expand the Rising Phoenix brand into a nationwide chain of karate training centers.
Background: Grew up in Philadelphia with a reputation for brawling and pickpocketing. Found his calling when he took his first karate class at age 16.
Suspicious behavior: Two students at his school have ended up in the hospital in the past month.
Suspected of: Causing harm to students? He’s the only link between the two injured boys.
Possible motive: Wants to be in control, no matter what it takes.
“That’s cool,” Joe said. “He must be psyched that you’re into karate, huh? I mean, he obviously is, or else he wouldn’t work here.”
Liz’s smile vanished. Suddenly she looked more like the sullen girl we’d first seen in the dojo. “Not really,” she said. “I mean, he isn’t that excited about me taking lessons. He’s afraid something will happen to me.”
I shot a look at Jo
e. Why was Finn afraid? Did he know something about the students who’d gotten hurt?
“I don’t care, though. He can’t tell me what to do. Sensei Huang said I could take lessons.” Liz stuck her chin in the air defiantly and walked off to the girls’ locker room.
Chet was sweating bullets. He looked relieved that she was gone. Of course, Joe took that as a cue to tease him.
“So that’s your girlfriend, hmmm?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
“No!” Chet yelped.
I pushed Joe in the shoulder, and he responded by dropping into a boxing stance and doing a few fake jabs at me.
“Looks like you two already know how to fight,” Paul Huang’s voice broke in.
I spun around, startled. I hadn’t heard him come up. He was gazing at Joe and me with a strange look on his face.
“Sensei, these are two of my best friends,” Chet said eagerly. “Frank and Joe Hardy.”
I held out my hand, and he shook it. His grasp was firm, and I noticed a small tattoo on his forearm—a Chinese dragon. When I looked into his eyes, I got the feeling that he was trying to read me, see what I was all about.
He did the same to Joe.
“You boys go to school with Chet?” Huang asked.
“Yep. Ever since second grade,” Joe said.
“And are you in the same clubs and activities?” Huang pressed. “What did you tell me, Chet? Science Club and the debate team?”
“Frank and I are more into sports,” Joe said. I wanted to kick him—obviously Huang didn’t want jocks here. We were the only students in the whole place who didn’t seem athletically challenged.
“Hmm. In that case, you’re not the kind of students I usually attract,” Huang said, confirming my suspicions. “I’m more interested in finding teenagers who feel that they’re not good at sports—kids who think of themselves as clumsy or uncoordinated. Those are the ones I like to help. Whenever I can teach someone a skill to be proud of, I’m happy.”
Martial Law Page 3
