It would be all too easy to just snap their little necks, but I’m going to ride this out for the rest of the day and see how much grace I’m willing to extend. I can’t let them see that it bothers me, so I just pretend I don’t even notice it.
As Gabe and I walk around the corner to our class, I address the baboons with a smile. “Hi, nice morning isn’t it? You all have a blessed day,” I say cheerfully, as we pass six stunned eyes and one crooked lip.
“Are you feeling okay?” asks a perplexed Gabe.
“Feeling just fine, my dear brother.”
“Well, stop it because you’re freaking me out.”
At lunchtime, the four of us sit down at our usual spot and discuss the particulars about where and when to meet at our place for dinner. “I can text everyone our address,” says Gabe.
“I don’t have a phone,” says Jacob.
“Okay, I can send you an e-mail then,” says Gabe.
“I don’t have a computer either,” Jacob says.
“Really, how do you communicate with everyone?” Gabe says.
“I talk to them in person,” retorts Jacob, making Gabe look silly, “but if I need to do some research, I just go to the library. I’m not much of a socialite on the Internet.”
“Are you done?” I harshly ask Gabe. He just looks at me with his crinkled nose. “Well, I think it’s a shame we have to depend on technology to communicate. What would we do if everything went down, just sit and twiddle our thumbs?” I try to mask any embarrassment Gabe has unintentionally caused at Jacob’s expense.
“Here, give me your hand,” I say to Jacob. I carefully grab his slightly callused hand and write down my address in permanent marker. I pause for a moment before I add my name, just in case he falls victim to immediate short-term memory loss. Amnesia can be a bitch.
Today’s lunch is less than stellar, but because I’m in a good mood, I clean my tray except for the genetically engineered glob of chocolate gel resting in my bowl. The only resemblance to chocolate pudding I see is the dark skin that’s formed on top, keeping any germs from penetrating the surface.
I excuse myself and take my tray to the wash line. On the way I see McKenzie making a mockery of some poor kid’s clothes at the adjacent table. As much as I want to stuff this chocolate mud in her face, I just concentrate on looking forward, hoping to avoid her unwelcomed company.
Right before I pass her, two guys bump into my tray, it flies upward and sends the paper bowl of pudding onto McKenzie’s chair. I quickly observe to see if anyone saw the flying pudding, but it goes unnoticed. Plus, McKenzie is still taunting the poor guy across the way. I find myself having a battle with my ego—should I do the right thing and say something, or do I pass up an opportunity of what goes around comes around? It is McKenzie after all.
This is quite the conundrum, I reject the latter, but before I can even take a step, it’s too late. McKenzie sits down on the congealed chocolate custard. She quickly stands up, belting out a cry in disgust as the pudding hangs onto the back of her jeans for dear life.
If I hadn’t been pontificating about my dilemma, I could have saved her from the embarrassment. Oh well, such is life. All I hear is a roar of laughter and a very angry McKenzie while I drop my tray off. I don’t look back; I just keep walking, hoping she hasn’t spotted me and making a link to the incident. I can only smile.
Lunch is over and it’s back to another stimulating hour of educational apathy. I know the teachers do all they can to share their knowledge without stepping on the philosophical egos of the administration, but because they are told exactly how to teach, it really cheapens the instruction kids get.
The educational system in this country lacks a sense of encouragement, and has delineated our intellect based on our weaknesses instead of our strengths. It has failed miserably at giving students the skills and tools they need that would have otherwise shaped us for a world that is less appealing now than it was ten years ago. Students are no longer able to foster creativity, distinguishing their gifts from others, but are merely forced by the government into vocations they were not meant for. And from what I now know about my fate in this life, I truly believe that’s exactly what our leaders had intended.
We walk back to our lockers before class begins and just out of sight by the water fountain, I spot Derrick. I grab Gabe, warning him that we should take a small detour. He takes my hand off his arm out of defiance. “No! It’s my right to walk these halls just like anyone else. I’m not afraid.” His hands shake uncontrollably.
“You sure about that?” I ask, looking at his trembling fingers. “Okay then, I got your back, bro.” We walk down the halls with Jacob trailing behind, and, as expected, Derrick spots us like a bird of prey.
He lunges forward and pushes Gabe’s head into the lockers, giving him a small cut from the sharp sides. Gabe tries to stand up, but he slips back down from the force of Derrick’s shoe.
“I think I really need to reevaluate that turning-the-other-cheek thing,” Gabe says as I hold his head up.
“This isn’t the freshman hall. What makes you think you can pass by our hall?” Derrick asks while hovering over Gabe. Derrick couldn’t care less about freshman walking these halls, but because it’s Gabe and me, he feels the need to display his egotistical manhood to the whole school. Of course Derrick is no more of a man than I’m a royal princess with etiquette. He’s a small-minded, shit-smelling, roid-raging prick, and I’m being nice.
I spring to my feet and sweep Derrick’s legs out, bringing him down hard to the floor. Before he can get up, I’ve already strategically planted my foot on the side of his face and my thumb firmly embedded into the nerve near the back of his spine.
He lays there unable to move, like an opossum waiting for his enemy to leave. I let go after a few seconds, hoping he will understand I’m not here to back down. He struggles to get up, but immediately tries to brush off the embarrassment of being taken down by a girl in front of a crowded hall.
“Is that all you got? You think catching me off guard like that is going to stop me from breaking you in two?” Derrick lunges toward me, but I stand my ground knowing he is too easy to defeat. Gabe tries to get between us, but Jacob pulls Derrick’s shoulder.
“Leave her alone!” Jacob shouts.
Derrick turns and swings his arm toward Jacob’s face, throwing him off balance and falling to the floor.
“What, is this your girlfriend? You honestly think she wants to go out with trash like you? Does she know you’re going to end up like your father? You don’t belong here, Jacob. Go back and stay with the other Watchers,” says Derrick.
My heart suddenly sinks into my stomach as I look down at Jacob’s face. His head tilts downward as if he shamefully accepts Derrick’s comments. I’m saddened by the turn of events and it’s all my fault. I couldn’t care less where Jacob came from. His father’s past matters nothing to me, nor do I feel any different about my relationship with Jacob. I’m more pissed now at Derrick’s comments than I am at what he did to Gabe.
There is nothing but silence now until the second bell rings for class to start.
“This isn’t over. The next time we meet like this you’ll wish you had transferred,” says Derrick, pointing at us. When he leaves, the crowd immediately dissolves.
I walk over to Jacob, but he doesn’t look like he’s in the mood to be helped up; instead, he rejects my hand and pulls himself up, trying to erase the possible embarrassment that he just encountered with Derrick.
While we walk to our class, I waver over the idea of talking to Jacob about Derrick’s cruel intentions. What he said about his father being a Watcher stirs my nerves to the point where I can’t let this awkward silence linger. I hate prying, but I can’t help not knowing, so I just ask anyway. “What did Derrick mean back there?” I say softly. Jacob doesn’t answer; he just looks down without any emotion, and I know I shouldn’t have said anything.
I move my hand toward his, then interlace my fingers i
n-between his and hope he doesn’t reject me. His warm hand grasps mine, and I can just barely recognize the corner of his mouth raise as if he wants to smile. This is the first time either one of us has shown any kind of affection toward one another, and it’s the first time I’ve held a boy’s hand like this since Jimmy Larkin in the second grade.
Before we go to class, we pass one of the many televisions that hang in the corners of the hallways and in each classroom. I stop and look at the news playing in the background, which suddenly gives me an idea. “I think I know how we can calm Derrick’s ego,” I say with a big grin.
CHAPTER 10
Before the last bell rings, the television hanging in the corner of the classroom suddenly comes on. The TVs are normally for educational purposes, but when there is pertinent weather information or some national news coverage of importance, class can be interrupted at any time.
The government controls just about everything, but the media still has some slight advantages in pursuing and displaying stories to the people that the government would probably much rather have filtered. This has sparked much of the recent debate going on in what’s left of our administration.
The government has a tight lid on global information filtered through the media, especially via the Internet, which has recently been heavily regulated, but today’s sudden news coverage is not without a hint of irony—it’s about our very own nation. At the bottom of the screen is a scrolling ticker that reads: Breaking news—A possible class movement on the rise.
The newscaster comes on the camera and says, “The ongoing class wars have created a deterrent in policy during a special congressional hearing today that included special guests, Gennadi Gorshkov of Russia, and Delun Yeung of China. The nation’s relationship with these two leaders has led to extensive cultural adaption policies. During this international diplomacy, the two leaders have recently exercised their voice about similar changes that have been put into place in their respective countries. Talks between the political parties may have reached an agreement to remove all Watchers from a twenty-mile radius of every city. This restructured policy goes on to include a possible relocation of poverty-stricken families to designated poor regions, which according to leadership is deemed necessary and is less likely to disturb a future international economic policy. Though these talks have not been confirmed as resolute, Russian and Chinese leadership have vowed to see these policies successfully determined by the end of the week. The president says he doesn’t…”
The broadcast suddenly turns to black followed by an eerie silence, and the television shuts off a minute later, leaving us wondering what was going to be said next. This information was obviously not supposed to leak out, and the government has now forcefully stepped in, controlling the media’s outlet of information, but too much has already been said. The events that have been prophetically broadcast are now in motion and can’t be stopped. It has begun.
For a moment, nobody says a word; they just look down at their desks, wondering if they will be the ones relocated. Our teacher looks a little stunned, but doesn’t hesitate to stand up and try to make everyone feel at ease. “It’s the same old mantra we hear from our government and nothing ever happens. I wouldn’t worry too much over this. Information can always be misleading.”
Misleading, really? Do you honestly think we’re not smart enough to determine what this administration is capable of doing after what this country has gone through the past ten years? I understand the teacher’s intentions, but at least give us a little credit.
Before anyone can say a word, the final bell rings, leaving everyone hanging on with a little more uncertainty now. After this troubling news, I find the little time I spend with Jacob outside a bit unsettling before Gabe and I meet with Father Joseph in the den. That’s what we call the fortified concrete structure. Like clockwork, we find ourselves sneaking into the back window of the gas station and through the side room where Father Joseph waits.
“Have you heard the news lately?” Father Joseph asks with an unearthly stare. His question is directed toward me, as if he’s trying to drive home his point from yesterday.
“Yes, or at least most of it before it was shut off,” I say.
Father Joseph takes a key from his pocket and hands it to Gabe. “Here, take this, just in case we somehow get separated from here on out. I made a spare copy.”
We walk into the den, and it’s the same as it was yesterday, but it still feels absolutely incredible to walk into a room with this much hitech weaponry. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it.
“Come and sit, there is someone waiting to meet with you,” says Father Joseph. Out from the hidden room where all the knives are located pops out Henry Matsuda, my martial arts instructor.
“Henry!” I run to him with open arms. “I’m so glad to see you,” I say, hugging him.
“Gabriel, it’s always great to see you. Any new inventions you’ve been working on?” Henry asks.
“No, been too busy trying not to worry about getting my head kicked in at school, but with all this equipment at my fingertips, I may be able to find a cure,” says Gabe.
I haven’t seen Henry in three months, since the beginning of summer. He usually gives me the summers off to work my craft at a pace I’m normally more comfortable with, but I still try to emulate my exercises as if I’m back in the dojo with him.
“Have you been disciplined in the arts? Has your practice continued or suffered since we last met?” Henry asks.
“You can be the judge of that,” I say with poise. I hope I haven’t overstepped my bounds, any arrogance aside, but I’m feeling rather confident today.
“You might want to step back, Gabe, I think God’s work is on display,” Father Joseph says softly, pulling Gabe back by his shirt.
“Don’t let your overconfidence expose your weakness. Respect can go a long way, my young student. Why don’t you go ahead and take off your backpack and let’s just see what you have learned,” Henry says.
“I think I’ll just leave it on for now,” I say.
“Don’t get too cocky,” he says.
Henry takes his position as I take mine, but I stay on the defense at first, blocking everything he gives me. After about two minutes of blocking his punches and kicks, he steps it up a notch.
“That’s a good warm-up, Arena, but that’s child’s play for you. Let’s test your other skills,” he says.
Henry runs toward me, and with his arm raised to the right of my shoulder, he swings a phantom punch with his back turned to me. He then slides down to sweep my legs, but to his surprise, my instincts have matured. I jump and turn with a back kick to his head. He seems to stop playing around with me now and becomes more serious.
I dodge every kick and counter with a knee to his chest. If he only knew I was just playing with him too. Ad-libbing in dramatic fashion, he grabs a wooden stick from the table to intimidate me.
He comes at me at every angle he can think of, and it becomes too easy for me to either block or dodge, and I finally pin him down with the stick to his throat with a simple Sambo move. “Nice move,” he says.
“This is where I slit your throat, of course,” I respond playfully.
He gets up, perspiring and panting, yet I’ve failed to find one bead of sweat resting on my skin. “Kung Fu,” Henry says loudly. This is where I should excel because it’s my favorite of all the martial arts.
I stand in a firm horse stance as Henry comes at me, attacking with strong center punches, and quick, short-burst kicks. He swings his elbows and fires a right punch as I counter with a left grabbing block and a right dragon claw to the throat. I follow by a sweep to his front leg and finish with a right knife-edge kick to his other leg. Henry lies on the floor and his face is in total shock. My eyes pierce through him like daggers.
He gets up and opens with a right-left punch combination. I block the first shot with a left tiger-claw parry and follow with a right tiger-claw parry. I take control of Henry�
�s left arm and apply a tiger claw to the face and groin. I look into Henry’s eyes and say, “If I wanted to, I could just end it here and rip your testicles off right now, but like you said, respect goes a long way.”
I pull down his head with his left arm and strike the back of his neck with a right swinging forearm. He gets up quickly, playing right into my next move. He swings upward with his elbow to my jaw, but I turn around, taking my backpack off and sliding his right arm through the loop. He tries to counter by ducking under to release his arm, but I slip the other loop from the backpack onto his left arm and turn once more, leaving his useless limbs tied to a Hello Kitty backpack and his knees on the ground.
“Looks like you’re ready for school. Shall I pack you a lunch?” I say with a smile.
He sits there briefly, looking defeated, but quickly smiles. “Well played,” says Henry. I help him up and give him a hug.
“You taught me well, and I want to thank you for all you have done. Really, you’ve been like a father to me, Henry. I thank you for that,” I say.
I look over at Gabe and Father Joseph, and they both just stare in silence with their mouths wide open.
“God have mercy on the boy who tries to take advantage of her,” says Father Joseph to Gabe.
“Come and sit down, Arena,” says Henry, trying to catch his breath. “You have learned more moves and mastered techniques than I ever could have imagined. It takes many years to hone the skills you possess right now. You are truly gifted, but you still lack one thing that will complete your training, and it takes most people a lifetime to understand,” says Henry.
“Yeah, and what’s that?” I say, unconcerned.
He pauses, looks into my eyes, and says, “Humility. This is something I cannot teach you.”
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