Kung Fu High School

by Ryan Gattis

  My view of the ceiling was part-covered by limp cords of dampish hair connected to the face in the dark, pressed firm to the crook of my neck. That was when I knew we were the two notorious puzzle pieces in the box that my mom always complained about. She had sworn always that in every puzzle there were two mismatched pieces that fit perfectly together even when they didn't make the bigger picture. They never made up a part of the mountains or the old, old train engine or whatever it was supposed to be, and that was confusing in the solving rhythm, made it slower, but the hooked peninsula of what looked like a turned-over leaf really did fit the receding grotto-shaped cutout of half a coal furnace and the spotty cardboard locked together even though the top pattern was all wrong and I felt so light-headed, so finally awake in a deadened body that I fully expected the walls of my room to take off on their subway rounds again, like they had at school, in streaking red-bricked horizontal lines of very real velocity, leaving me here with him, to be slow. Too slow. One dragging foot in front of the other, going nowhere, for just one night.

  THE FRIDAY OF ALL FRIDAYS

  Getting ready like it was my last day on earth: no Vicodin ever again, no real breakfast, just a protein shake, an old tuna sandwitch, crusty on its edges, and an extra long shower where I took about all the hot water. I wanted to wash everything twice. So I did. In between my toes, the back of my knees, I rubbed the skin raw with a balding washcloth and then worked in all the parts I usually miss or just gloss over with a fluff of soap bubbles. I even cleaned behind my ears and inside them. I washed my hair three times but didn't bother with conditioner because it was just going to get frizzy anyway. Shaved my legs and armpits, didn't sweat my bikini line. Couldn't even look down there. Lower back and my shoulder blades and the arch of my neck too, they all got scoured, as best I could with my reach anyway. I popped a few pimples, one on my shoulder, two on my right cheek, but for the most part, took it real easy on my face and the wound on my jaw. Rinsed my mouth with saltwater real good three times.

  I dried off every bit of me with a clean towel, a blue one that used to be Cue's and happened to be within reaching distance as I balanced on one leg on the bath mat. Almost scraped my wrist on the counter when I lost my balance but caught myself Yeah, I was nervous. I had no idea what to expect. From school or from Jimmy. So I did my best to concentrate on the simple, small tasks at hand. Dried my face, chest, toes, legs, belly, arms, and ruffled up my hair helmet. Then I wrapped a towel around me and another around my hair and jumped the hallway carpet into my room and shut the door.

  Waited fifteen minutes until the majority of skin was good and dry and then I put on lotion, with vitamins. I didn't do it enough. That was why my skin was so raw all the time. And also because I wore so many layers and never worried about sweating so long as I was protected. So this time I felt kind of greasy as I slipped my padded chonies plus specially made cup on. I didn't mess with T-shirts and went straight for the long-sleeved turtleneck with Kev protection all the way down the arms, front and back organ protection, and most importantly, plastic-molded throat protection. Leggings went on. I put a plastic kinfé in the sheath. I needed the lightest, most protective stuff I had. I grabbed all of it and even lined my khaks out with hard plastic shunts: over my kidneys, thighs, and calves then clipped the insides of my khaks to my leggings so that the weight of the shunts wouldn't get wild and bunch the fabric in the wrong places when I needed to kick. Two pairs of socks, then the boots. At about that point, I felt like I needed to throw up. Just nervousness really, about what was to come, not the previous night.

  Flushed the toilet and part of my protein shake down with it, then proceeded to not put any books in my backpack. Not a single piece of paper or a pen either. The first thing that went in was a full water bottle. If I was going to have to roll anywhere near as much as I thought I would, I'd need that. Of course, when shit went down, I had no idea when I'd have a chance to drink it, but at least I had it. Next in was a pair of chuks wrapped up in a sweatshirt. Chuks = Nunchaku: two rounded pieces of wood about a foot long and connected with a thin rope. I didn't know them too well, but it extended my reach and that'd be huge when forced to fight in groups. In went a pared-down first-aid kit, stuffed to the zipper with extra gauze and duct tape. I zipped two plastic kinfés into the bottom pocket. In the same pocket, there was just enough room for a pair of hard industrial plastic knuckles, like brass knuckles but without the metal. They're just as hard and cause just as much damage, trust me. Left at the top was enough room for my lunch and a padded hat.

  THE BACKPACK

  It crossed my mind that there could be a double funeral at my house soon. Cue was still in with the coroner for an autopsy, at least that's what the cops said. Fact was, they hadn't released his body to us yet. They were still looking for clues supposedly. They knew they'd never find the killer. Not even his body. By the time Cue's remains would be released to Dad, it was a distinct possibility that I might've already joined him. I dismissed that line of thinking though. It was just too damn depressing. To make it easier, I had to see Dad in our living room inside my head, leaning over his new painting and sticking his tongue out as he worked on Cue's shaved bald head with a light beige and highlights of white-wine white.

  My stomach was going crazy when I walked out of my room but I was ready as I ever could be. Looking into Cue's room, I saw Jimmy's naked back: shirtless, little curves of muscles curled underneath that skin. I don't remember what time he left my room, but there he was, kneeling on the matted carpet and meditating calmly like he'd had a full night's sleep. My first instinct was to turn away. Somehow that posture was barer than anything I'd seen the night before. But I wasn't thinking about it, purposely pushing it away, thinking of anything else really. Like, did I have everything? So I double-checked my pack again. If I could do it, meditate, I would've right then. Serious.

  I poked my head into Dad's room, real glad to find him still sleeping. By the time I put his meds and glass of water next to his bed, my hair was dry enough to tie down. So I braided the bushy stuff hand over hand until it hung down the back of my neck in what must've looked like a tiny little rattail. I used a rubber band to finish it. I had thought about shaving it all but that would have given the game away. Everyone would've known today was the day.

  "Remember that letter I got from my mom?" Jimmy was in the living room, putting his books in his bag. When you're that good then maybe it's worth it carrying books. I had totally forgotten about that letter. No change in his voice though. No fawning over me. No glance or two at my body. For a second, I wondered if it even happened, or maybe if I was that bad the night before, that hazy, that he just wanted to forget the whole thing?

  "What about it?" It didn't feel like there was any blood in my face. I mean, rolling was one thing, but this was pretty much suicide. The only good thing about it was that it was on our own terms.

  "Yeah, well, it was pretty emotional. She's all lonely and she freaked out when I told her about Cue. She wants me to come home."

  His words made me even queasier than before. "So what happens now?"

  "I'm not leaving you, Jenny."

  Whew. I didn't want to care about Jimmy's misplaced ideas about chivalry or even love at that point; I'd say I gave him a hug but I'm sure I just kind of fell on him. Where there was Jimmy, there was a chance.

  "She said something else though, she said if it ever got down to it, that I should protect myself. She doesn't want her baby dead."

  I could understand that. He smelled good through Cue's sweatshirt that was too big for him. And there was just something about his face that calmed me down. The look really. Like the fact that he couldn't lose was just big enough for me too.

  BANG. BANG. BANG.

  I pulled away from him and moved to open the front door.

  "How many ex-Waves can we count on?" Melinda blurted as soon as I let her in. She hadn't calmed down from the moment she left eight hours before, I swear.

  "How many Wolves can we c
ount on?" I asked in return.

  "No idea, rumors already going round that we're finished, that Rico turned maybe three or four hundred before I knew about it." She put her fists on her hips. "Jesus, it's good to see you, Jimmy. You may be our only hope."

  The Jimmy I knew would've ducked his head at that and looked sheepish, like he wasn't comfortable with all that pressure, but he just nodded.

  Our walk to school was the fastest of my life. I was on automatic pilot. Just following Jimmy and Melinda.

  "Well, get the word around. Make sure that whoever's loyal is on the north side of the quad before circles," Melinda said. "I got to go find Mark. He'd better have good news."

  All three of us broke in separate directions after the metal check and no one gave us a second look.

  First period: I put the feelers out about what needed to be done after last bell then just tapped my foot too much the rest of the class. No Ridley of course. By second period everyone should've heard the message. If they were down, they'd be there. I spent most of the day staring at the clock and sizing people up. Seeing my exits and wondering what I would do if the fighting broke out at any moment.

  Lunch was tense. Sure, people talked but there was some serious waiting hanging in the air. You could probably've grabbed it and pulled it down it was so thick. Fourth period, I just stared at the clock and let myself think about Jimmy, just for a second. I can't believe how stupid I was to let my guard slip like that and since I was on drugs was that like rape? It was really messing with my head and my stomach. Got called on twice and had to say, "I don't know," and get a disappointed look from the teacher. And somehow, I got out of there when the bell rang and kept my back to the wall as I made it to my next class. I didn't know how much longer I would last through the waiting. It was starting to hurt.

  Well, when the bell came to start fifth period, I didn't need to wait anymore. I stood up from my desk because the bell was different. The teacher hadn't even showed up. Except for two Wolves and an ex-Wave, my entire class was Runners or Fists, fifteen on my initial count, and one kid got up and locked the door. The funny thing was, I just felt relief as I bent down to push the nails forward out of the soles of my boots and made sure to shrug my flannel to the ground while I was down there. Nice and slow. Then I reached for my bag.

  GEOGRAPHY LESSONS

  The classroom I had fifth period geography in was no different than most at Kung Fu, except for one thing, it was a corner/end room. That meant it was obviously two things: on the end of the square building and in a corner, which also meant it was less accessible than most rooms, and harder to get out of Two of the four walls were solid red brick and one of 'em had a skinny window. Even though it was on the first floor, the main building was scrunched up against an excavated hill, so it was really a two-story drop to the ground below, but that assumed you could get out the window that was made of crisscrossing, steel-tinsel-reinforced glass in the first place. The other two walls were standard penny-pinching drywall and thin as saltine crackers.

  In this particular classroom, the chalkboard was on the redbrick south wall. A corner triangle of it had been hacked off with a machete once, then stuck right back on with a couple of brackets. There were world maps attached to the top of the board and the room was the shape of a rectangle, about fifteen big paces from the north wall to the chalkboard and twenty-five paces from the whitewashed drywall to the west brick wall. Technically, not a whole lot of room to work in when there are twenty color-coded chairs with a right-handed arm desk attached. The biggest desk in the room was for the teacher, wooden and bolted to the floor right in front of the chalkboard and facing the students' desks.

  I sat in the middle, just my luck. Worse luck for my Wolf friends, who were scrunched in the back corner, but probably even worse for the ex-Wave-now-Wolf who was near the door, and because of that, nearer to every single adversary. Perhaps the only good news for me was that the two Wolves in the corner were twin brothers and they were pretty good. Much better at fighting as a duo, but I had no idea how they were going to hold up against this many.

  "Don't kill her!" the turncoat ex-Wave screamed. "She's Ridley's."

  Great. Now I was property. A frigging Helen with no Troy, no walls either. And worse than that, the odds took a dive: 3 on 16.

  In movie brawls, kind little bad guys wait their turn and come one by one, to get their asses kicked by the "overmatched" but noble and triumphant male hero. Fuck that. It sure as hell doesn't work that way at Kung Fu. Once the first move is made, kids organize themselves into small groups of three or four and surround on all sides if they have a clear path, kind of like animals that hunt in packs. Two sit back, kick you in vulnerable places when you're engaged in combat with one or two of the others, and if you slow down enough, you get jumped on: law of the jungle. Sloppy and frantic, hard breathing and ruthless, in close quarters the only rule of thumb was to never stop moving.

  I weighed my options as they formed a quick perimeter and slowly closed in. One, escaping via the back window was out. Too thin to squeeze through, it would take way too long to break it out and then they'd be on me. Two, taking a hostage was definitely out, because no one would care if I shanked someone. There was not a single person in the room important enough to take because we were all sophomores, plus one or two freshmen. Three, I could reach the light switch and hope for confusion, but that wasn't a possibility because it was next to the door, the only exit, anchored firmly in the east drywall. Besides, the darkness would've been negligible, not even worth it. Four, clear a space and get busy, when I'd drawn enough to me, track back, and hit that door fast. It looked like it was option four. Always remember: in group fighting situations, you must stay at least five moves ahead, that's critical. Use combos. Know what moves flow to what. Kick to throw, use your opponents' bodies and superior numbers against them. If you can't stay five moves ahead, I'm sorry, but consider yourself swarmed. Like hyenas on an antelope.

  The twin Wolves glanced at me, sharing the same look in their green eyes, and we knew we were on the same page. I'd take the lead and they'd bring up the rear, taking people off my backside as quickly as possible. If they could.

  The Fists grouped left and started clearing desks off to the side, stacking them, being slow, you know, letting the tension build. To the right were Runners. They were the first surge as they moved two at a time down the aisle to my left and straight down my aisle after sweeping past the teacher's desk. They had already divided me from the twins. I couldn't wait any longer.

  While facing forward, I claimed the first move by kicking a desk into the waist of the advancing Runner to my left and he must not've expected it because he fell over it awkwardly and smacked himself bad on the tile and started bleeding. Lucky shot. No time to dwell though, another Runner took his place. I stomped on her toes as she scrambled over her bleeding family member and then brought my plastic-knuckled fist right through her glass jaw. She wasn't out, but she was malleable enough for me to snag by the collar and waist with both hands and hip-toss her toward the advancing Runners straight ahead of me. Her flying body took one out and impeded another, which fU Wf ¿WOOL bought me enough time to duck the fist coming at my head from behind. Go for the body, son, the head is too small a target sometimes. Staying low, I finished with a hard elbow to the unprotected urethral area right above the cup of my unlucky adversary and he dropped all his water right there and went down in a lump with possible internal bleeding. Three for me.

  The twins' score: one. They'd gotten a Runner in a double headlock and somehow had cleared enough room to spin him and sling him at the oncoming others. Not the prettiest, but effective. They were getting closer to me, which was good and bad. The good: they could protect my back. The bad: I was running out of space and the Runners were creeping in along the north drywall, coming at me from three sides now.

  One smarty kid tried to jump on a rickety desk and right before he settled his weight on it, I kicked it out from underneath him and as he fell in
front of me, I smashed his skull with my plastic knuckles on the way down. He made a quick red spot on the floor. At that point, I kicked another desk toward the group coming toward me from the teacher's desk and I blocked a high kick from an overzealous Runner and absolutely smashed her in the solar plexus, so hard that she lost her breath as her lungs turned into a vacuum. I didn't even have to finish her off, just had to jump out of the way as her buddy smacked her in the throat trying to hit me high.

  What little air was left escaped from her like a punctured balloon. Like cutting the string with scissors but accidentally getting the tied-off rubber part too: she just crumbled. Her stunned buddy, on the other hand, caught the heel of my boot in his nose and I heard it burst, like a snapped carrot, as I was using my momentum to swing down low into a leg sweep and take out the guy behind me. Once he was on the ground, I punished him with a swift neck chop. I shouldn't've done it though because I was in a bad position. I was too low and the others were coming.

  I looked up to see a knee coming down at face level. I put my arms up to block and started to get my momentum going forward to roll but it was the quick thinking of one of the twins to smack my attacker with a tipped-over desk right before he hit me. As it was, he just fell on me and I threw a quick triangle choke around his neck to put him out. At that point, I was hauled up to my feet by both twins to see the second wave coming at me, straight on. After five or six kids, I should've been dead tired. But adrenaline makes you do funny things, I could feel every muscle fiber in my body. So far so good though. Us: nine. Them: zero. Odds: 3 against 7. It was becoming doable.