The Dragon Lady of Hamilton High

by Lady Li Andre

The Dragon Lady of Hamilton High

  By

  Lady Li Andre

  For Anna

  Copyright 2015 Lady Li Andre

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  About Lady Li Andre

  1

  I knew the moment I saw the car parked across from the school entrance that my world was going to be shifting again. But that was normal. I moved toward the car and pulled the bubble of stillness around myself. Kids whizzed past on skateboards, half of them shouting angry profanities while the other half experimented with words of love toward others they didn't really know. This was the standard Friday release. Like a dam bursting, the pent up energy rolled outward from the doors all around me. I tried to envision myself a small bubble floating on top of the chaotic waves around me.

  I wouldn’t miss any of the kids. I have learned not to miss anyone anymore. I don’t let myself get attached. That’s what really hurts. And we seem to be jumping a lot more lately and usually without warning. This was why I never brought any school books with me. I had once. It had been a library book. That really bugged me and I’d made my mom mail it back. Penance for the fast withdrawal.

  I did like this school. It was one of the better ones I’ve attended. The teachers still cared about what they taught and found interesting ways to make all the stuff worth learning. The classes were actually interesting. And I had been in all AP classes. That was better than the school I’d started out the year with. They only offered a few AP classes. I think I might want to go to college someday. If they would let me in. My transcripts might scare them!

  I crossed the street. I could see mom sitting in the driver’s seat, looking apprehensive. She was watching everyone. I didn’t see anyone paying the least attention to our old car. As I walked down the sidewalk toward the car, I could see the slight rise of the blankets that covered everything in the backseat. I had been right. Mom was on the move.

  I got in the car and shut the door. There was just enough space at my feet for my backpack. The small interior was crammed full – tightly organized. Mom waited for me to put on my seatbelt then pulled out into traffic. I didn’t ask. I never do. I can’t decide if it’s because I’m afraid my mom wouldn’t tell me the reason or because she would tell the reason and I’d be so freaked out that I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.

  I knew this part of the routine quite well. She drove all over Omaha and ended up at the big mall. She found a parking space in the middle of a sea of colorful metal and parked. I helped her push the sun screen into the front window that would not only block out the late afternoon sun but also give us privacy from people passing by. She looked over at me. “I’m sorry, Erin. I didn’t have time to warn you. I didn’t know they had found us until after you left for school this morning.” She pulled out a small cooler, opened it, and handed me a tuna sandwich.

  I unwrapped it and concentrated on eating the sandwich. I was taught early on that you shouldn’t do more than one thing at a time. When you are eating, eat. I finished the sandwich. She was watching me. I’m use to that. I considered what I was going to say. “Do you have a destination in mind?”

  She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. “I just wish I could figure out how they found us so fast. It only took them three weeks this time.”

  I closed my eyes and listened to the air moving in and out. Fusan had taught me that tension of the body prevented the mind from properly functioning. The best way to reduce tension was to meditate. I don’t know that I really understood that, or most of all the other things Fusan had taught me when I was little, until I got a lot older. He was the one thing in my life that I really did miss.

  Mom’s breathing had become slow and regular. She would sleep until the mall closed. I sighed and opened my backpack. There were four shirts and two pairs of jeans inside. I had discovered them in the lost and found last chance box at lunch time. They had been washed by the school laundry but had some stains. I didn’t care. I liked stains. They gave me a starting point.

  I pulled out the first shirt and opened it in my lap. It was a soft sky blue. Not a flashy blue like robin’s egg, but a muted tone, like the sky over the great plains in summer. There was a spackling of white freckles. Bleach spots. I could almost see the pattern of scales if I let my eyes relax.

  Fusan had been a Sumi-e master. I had watched him take several hours to contemplate a silk canvas before he ever loaded the brush with ink. Each stroke was a meditation. The act of creation, an infinite symphony. The end result was breathtaking. He gave them away. His family didn’t understand why he didn’t sell them but Fusan didn’t like money. The painting was done and that was it. He didn’t need it anymore. He gave it to people who needed the inspiration.

  My art was different. I pulled out the art board and my markers. I could see the dragon hiding in the shirt. I simply drew it out of hiding. Each bleach spot became the highlight of a scale. The dragon form became Fuku Riu, entwining around the shirt with his head looking up on the left shoulder. Maybe he would bring me luck.

  By the time it was dark, I had most of the outline finished. I put it away and woke mom. We pulled the sun screen from the window and began our next journey. I don’t know how many miles I’ve traveled in my life. Sometimes the trips are short but more often they are a day or more on the road. I don’t know how my mom does it. It’s like binge driving.

  I fell asleep after we got on an interstate. I woke sometime early the next morning as mom was getting gas. That’s the best thing about the interstate. The gas stations never close. When she pulled back onto the road, I could see headlights and tail lights ahead of us. We weren’t the only ones traveling at this hour. I dozed again.

  The next day was dreary. The sky swirled with charcoal clouds that spattered rain at intervals. The landscape was bleak. I could tell where the small waterways were by the shrubs that passed for trees. I didn’t need a compass to know we were traveling west. That meant mountains ahead of us. I’ve never cared for driving through the mountains in the snow. I looked over at mom. “How far are we going?”

  “Until I find something promising.”

  I smiled. Fusan would have approved. I went back to work on the shirt and finished the black details. I had a special set of metallic markers that I’d been given as a gift. I used the gold to give highlights to Fuku Riu’s beard, the mane down his spine, and the fluff at the end of his tail. The end result was striking.

  Mom stopped for lunch at a rest area. I got out and stretched. When I got back in, mom was looking at the shirt. “Which dragon is this?”

  “Fuku Riu. He’s a Japanese luck dragon.”

  She looked uncertain. “Do you think we need some luck?”

  I didn’t say anything. I don’t believe in luck. I would much rather pay attention. We stopped again in the afternoon. According to the signs,
we were in Boise, Idaho. Mom found a mall and we repeated the sun screen routine. I pulled out a pair of faded black jeans and a gray shirt. I had picked these as a set. There was a stain down the side of one leg. I could see the claws of the dragon’s back leg reaching down the leg of the jeans. The tail would twist around the other leg and hide the smaller stains at the knee. The dragon would appear wrapped around me with its head resting on my right shoulder and a claw on the left shoulder. It felt secure.

  Mom woke before dark because of a confrontation a few cars away in the parking lot. She couldn’t get comfortable again so we started out early. She turned on the radio. Looking at the sky, I had a pretty good idea of why. It smelled like snow. I just hoped we could beat the storm through the pass. The weather report wasn’t promising. I realized the report had inspired my mother rather than discouraged her.

  I had sketched out enough of the dragon to know who it was now. Ladon, the Greek dragon that had guarded Hera’s golden apples. One of the coolest things about dragons is that you can find them all over the world. Every culture seems to have them. Ladon had some serious claws but short stubby wings. I pictured him protecting me as he wrapped around my body with the clothing.

  Once it got too dark to see, I put my work away. There were serious mountains all around us. One of the advantages to your mom constantly moving around is that you get really good at geography. These had to be the Rockies.

  I didn’t remember falling asleep. I woke when we stopped for gas. I didn’t know what time zone we were in so I had no clue what time it really was. I had a vague flash of more mountains around sunrise but mom wasn’t stopping so I went back to sleep.

  When I opened my eyes again, the world was still. The car was quiet. I looked over and mom was looking at me. “I think we’re here.” She sighed. “I’ll be back in a bit.” She got out and walked away from the car.

  I sat up and looked around. We were in a city. The buildings beside the car looked older. They were squat as if the gray sky was squishing them down into the ground. There were small businesses on the street level. The windows above suggested apartments. I’d lived in apartments like those many times. It was a one-way street.

  Mom came back. It hadn’t seemed very long but she was smiling. “I have a job.” She pointed across the street to a small diner. “I have to be back here by noon.”

  I looked at my watch. “Then you’re already late. It’s ten after.”

  She started up the car. “Back in Omaha it might be but here it’s just past ten in the morning.” She turned a corner. “One of the waitresses told me there are apartments for rent just a couple of blocks away.”

  I pointed out the sign in a store window. “That seems to be the place to inquire.” She parked. I stayed in the car. This was old routine. Everything we owned was in the car right now. One of us always stayed in it or near it until it was unpacked.

  She came back a few minutes later. “I think your dragon brought us luck. The apartment is on the second floor.” She handed me a key. “Let’s get things unloaded.”

  This was also a familiar routine. Everything was precisely packed in the backseat. There was a card table, two folding chairs, two army cots, two air mattresses, two sets of three plastic drawers of clothes, a bin of cleaning supplies, a bin of kitchen necessities, and a bin of emergency food. The blankets and pillows were draped over all of it to prevent prying eyes from examining the contents. It took about six trips with both of us working together to empty the car.

  With the last bin on the counter, I looked out the window. “Are we going to need things from the trunk?” We kept emergency camping gear, sleeping bags, and cold weather gear stored in the trunk. It was just as precisely laid out. Mom had even made a special rack for the spare tire so it was always on top. She would have made a boy scout jealous.

  She looked out the window. “We may want extra rain gear. That’s the best part about Tacoma. They don’t get much snow here.”

  I finally knew where I was. That was something. State of Washington. I tried to calculate how far away that was from Omaha and gave up. I had no idea what route mom had used to get us here. “We haven’t been in Washington in a while.”

  Mom actually laughed. “I said I was never coming back, too. But we aren’t in Spokane. It’s very different on the west side of the Cascades. It’s like Portland.”

  I filled the air mattresses with a foot pump and made our beds. “I liked Portland.” We had actually stayed there almost four months while I was in junior high school. It had been a good school and a decent neighborhood.

  Mom looked at her watch. “I have to go. The car stays right there. That’s all there is here – street parking. The manager gave me a card to put in the window.” She paused and looked at me. “We’ll be okay.”

  I could see the little lines crossing her forehead. I knew them well. She was worried. I hugged her. “We’re both breathing.”

  She managed a short laugh and hurried out the door. I stood for some time focusing on the air moving in and out until the last of the excess tension dripped out of me. Then I went on with my normal routine. I pulled the small card out of my backpack that I had made in Omaha and went searching for a phone booth.

  Public phones are almost dinosaurs these days. Everyone seems to have a cell phone. I don’t. Mom would have a panic attack if I even suggested getting one. I finally went into the small bookshop at the corner and asked the clerk if she knew where there was a public phone. “Sorry, honey. The kids ripped it off the wall a couple of years ago and they never replaced it. Is it a local call?”

  “It’s collect.”

  “Come on around the counter. You can use the store’s landline. I’d let you use my cell phone but I’m short on minutes.”

  I followed her to a back room. My watch was still set to Omaha time. It was coming up on five there. The phone rang only once. “Sunrise Dojo.” The computerized operator came on and asked the called if they would accept the call from. I said my name. A chime sounded. “Erin! Are you still in the land of the living?”

  “Hi, Matt. More like the land of the lost. Is Sensei Danisan finished with classes?”

  “Ya, hang five.” He shouted for Sensei. “We’ve been worried about you. When you didn’t show for two days straight, I knew something was wrong. You’re like on time girl, to the max.”

  I heard the exchange of voices and Sensei Danisan came on the phone. “Are you safe?”

  “I am. I just wanted to apologize for leaving without telling you.”

  “That does not matter. Only that you are well. Are you allowed to tell me where you are?”

  I had to consider that. I had only known Sensei Danisan for three weeks. Is that enough time to know if you can really trust someone? “I think so. We’re in Tacoma, Washington.”

  “Oh. That is a considerable distance. Let me see if I can find someone there in the database.”

  I usually use a phone book. There was a stack of them on the desk. “Sensei, I’m calling collect. I don’t want to talk too long. I just want you to know I’m safe. Please wish my classes well for me.”

  “Are you certain I can’t do more for you?”

  “I’m used to this. I’ll manage. Domo arigato for your time and lessons.”

  “You are most welcome, Erin Riu. The best to you.”

  I was touched by his addition of Riu to my name. It means dragon. I hung up the phone and went looking for the woman. “You seem to have a stack of phone books. We just moved in upstairs. Could I buy one?”

  The woman laughed. “Honey, you can have one. The phone company dumps extras on us all the time.”

  I took the phone books – she actually gave me two: the white pages and the yellow pages – and went back up to the apartment. It’s amazing how useful a good phone book can be when you’re new in town. Most have area maps in them. It didn’t take me long to get oriented.

  One of the first things I do when we move to a big city is learn a basic set of boxes around my
area. I pick major roads at intervals of five or ten so that if I ever get turned around, I know how to find my way back to the apartment. It has saved me several times over. This city was easy. It had a major interstate running through it with a lot of tributaries. And a large body of water ran along beside it – Puget Sound.

  Then I moved onto the yellow pages and looked under Martial Arts. There were quite a few listed but only a few within my ten block box. I located them on my roughly drawn map and set out for a walk. I ruled out the closest one without even going in. The kind of people that workout in a dojo tells a lot about the sensei and the overall atmosphere of the place. I saw a couple of guys come out of the first place on my list and kept right on walking.

  The second place at least got a slightly longer look. They had large plate glass windows and an instructor was leading a class of mid-range green belts through their katas. The instructor was very stiff. While some people like the Bruce Lee look, it’s never been my thing. So I moved off to the last one on the list.

  And I found a school. I looked at the map. I was about 4 blocks from the apartment. That seemed reasonable. The sign outside labeled it as Hamilton High School. It looked older. The building was three stories high and shrouded in tan bricks, like a lot of the buildings in the area seemed to possess. The place was dark but it was Sunday evening.

  I continued the last couple of blocks and found the dojo. It was small. The windows hung with colorful bamboo blinds. I could see light through them. The sign on the door claimed it was open. I went in.

  I’m very particular when I first enter a dojo. There are things I’ve learned to notice. I like to stand in the doorway for a while and quietly observe the place. There were several small classes going on and at least one extra room that I could see not in use at the moment. The floor was wood. The work area was covered in mats. There were urns of bamboo in the corners of the rooms. The smell was earthy rather than human sweat. There was a slight breeze drifting through the entry room. I caught a hint of incense.

  I moved in slowly and startled the guy who had been sitting at the front desk. I had heard him breathing so I knew he was there. He knocked some papers on the floor as he stood up. “Wow! I didn’t hear you come in. Sorry. Welcome to Inyo Dojo. How can I help you?”

  His speech was rushed and obviously overused. “Who is the Master here?”

  “Uh, that would be Max Gusalli. He’s with a class right now.” He pointed toward one of the rooms.

  “Would it be all right if I watched for a bit?”

  “Sure. No problem. It’s that room straight ahead.” He bent down to pick up his scattered papers. Looked like homework. I’ve never understood why some kids wait until Sunday night to do their homework.

  I left him to his papers and moved toward the room. I decided I liked the small entry room. It had a bubble fountain in the corner I hadn’t been able to see from the doorway. The soft sound was soothing. I stopped in the doorway of the classroom the boy had indicated.

  An older man was leading a mixed age class through a Tai Chi form. This was obviously not a beginner’s class. All of the students were familiar with the movements. I watched the fluid flow of the Master. There was neither pause nor stiffness to his form. I was impressed. I had studied Tai Chi under many different instructors. He was definitely one of the top ten that I’ve seen over the years.

  The group finished the form. Everyone stood quietly, just breathing. I had found my new dojo. Even without seeing the other classes, I knew this would be a good fit. The group eventually began drifting toward the back of the room, collecting personal belongings and putting on footwear. I stepped to the side inside the doorway and watched the Master interact with his students. His voice surprised me. It was deep with a distinctive accent. Italian. But he spoke softly and slowly. He didn’t rush. His ratings went up in my book.

  Most of the class left the room before the boy from the front desk came in. He walked right by me. “Hey, Max. There was a lady here. She was looking for you.”

  He smiled. “And she found me.” He put his hands on the boy’s shoulders and turned him around, pointing at me. “I’m guessing that would be her.”

  The boy’s eyes went so wide I was worried his eyeballs were going to roll out of their sockets. “Wow! How do you do that?”

  I said nothing. The Master chuckled. “I’m afraid you will never know. Thank you Steven. Have a nice evening.” He walked past me shaking his head. The Master approached and bowed.

  I returned the bow. “Good evening. I realize this is the end of your day. I don’t wish to keep you if you have other things you need to do.”

  “On the contrary. I usually stay at the dojo another hour. My wife is a teacher and uses Sunday evening to prepare her mind for the coming week. My name is Max Gusalli.” He held out his hand.

  I accepted the handshake. “I’m Erin Dawson. My mother and I just moved to this area. I’m looking for a place to continue my training. I’m willing to exchange teaching younger classes for more advanced study.”

  I could tell Max had been studying me. “What do you wish to learn?”

  It had been some time since a Master had asked me that question. “I am open to whatever the Master is willing to teach.”

  He smiled. “Very good. I can tell already that you are an accomplished student. This is a very small dojo. I currently have seven junior masters who come in on various days to assist with classes. You are welcome anytime the dojo is open.” He motioned for the door. May I offer you some tea?”

  “Thank You.” I followed him out of the room and down the hall toward the back of the dojo. It was much larger than it had first appeared. There were six divided rooms plus the larger room by the entry. He led the way into a small grouping of connected rooms that served as office, kitchen, and supply room. The kitchen opened into another room lined with bookshelves and bamboo. There was another water fountain.

  A girl probably near my age was seated at the table in the center of the room. Max leaned into the room. “Linda, I’m making some tea. Would you like a cup?”

  She put down the book and looked up. “That sounds great. Thanks, Max.”

  Max motioned to the room. “This is our library. Feel free to borrow any book. The staff often gathers here. This is Linda Valen. She is one of the other junior masters.”

  I realized he wanted me to introduce myself. It’s funny. I can introduce myself to teachers or students but I never quite know what to say to my peers. But I went in the room. “I’m Erin.”

  Her eyes had widened a little, not as bad as Steven’s but still noticeable. “That is so cool. Your dragon is awesome.”

  I looked down at the wrinkled clothes I’d been wearing since Friday morning. The black design stood out on the faded denim. “Thank you.”

  Max carried cups and a teapot into the room and set them on the table. “If I’m not mistaken, that dragon is Orochi.”

  His ratings rose again. “Yes, it is.” I had gotten all eight heads onto the denim jacket. The body, claws, and tail continued down onto the jeans.

  Linda poured the tea. “I’ve never seen anything like that. Are you the artist?”

  Max passed me a cup. I could almost feel Orochi wrapping tighter around my body. I held up the tea cup and inhaled the aroma, letting the warmth become my focus to follow the path of my breath. The bubble of calm grew around me. “I draw a lot of dragons.”

  Linda put down her cup and moved to the bookshelf. “We have this really neat book on dragon paintings in the orient.”

  Max shook his head. “It’s all right Linda. We’ll find it another time. It’s the end of the day. Why don’t you come and sit. Drink your tea.” He sat and I followed his example. I was relieved. We finished our tea in silence. He stood quietly and bowed to me. “I look forward to working with you. Good night.”

  I stood and bowed to him in return. “Good night, Master.” I bowed to Linda, too. She just stared at me. I shrugged and left the room. I walked out of the d
ojo and down the street.

  It had gotten dark but I knew where I was and there were enough street lights for me to find my way to the diner. I went in. The place was busy. My mom was working behind the counter. I took a seat on one of the wooden stools. She came over and smiled at me. “I was wondering if you were going to stop in. The food here is pretty good. Are you hungry?”

  The noise and smells didn’t go with food in my book. “Not really. I took a walk and found a school nearby. I’ll have to leave a little early tomorrow so I can register.”

  I watched my mother’s face wrinkle with worry. My gut tightened. We had just arrived. Was she ready to jump again?