by Dan Gutman
“Let us close our eyes,” Mr. Jack told us.
What? How can I kick butt with my eyes closed?
“Take a deep breath,” Mr. Jack said softly. “Now exhale. Do that again. Deep breath . . . exhale.”
“Excuse me,” I said. “What does this have to do with kicking butt?”
“Shhhhh,” Mr. Jack said. “A closed mouth gathers no feet.”
“Huh? What does that mean?”
“It means keep quiet and you won’t say anything dumb, Arlo,” Andrea said. “It’s a wise saying.”
It didn’t sound very wise to me.
“Hush,” said Mr. Jack. “First you must learn how to breathe.”
“I already know how to breathe,” I said. “If I didn’t know how to breathe, I’d be dead.”
“Shhhhh,” Mr. Jack said. “Sit quietly. Can you hear your heart beating?”
I listened for my heartbeat. The only thing I could hear was the ceiling fan.
“Keep your eyes closed. Stare at the inside of your eyelids,” Mr. Jack told us.
I tried to stare at the inside of my eyelids, but I couldn’t see anything. My eyelids had nothing on them. I wondered if everybody else was seeing cool stuff on the inside of their eyelids. I opened my eyes for a second to look, but then I couldn’t see my eyelids anymore.
Somebody should tell Mr. Jack that the inside of our eyelids is really boring. They should put TV sets in there. Then you could watch TV while you’re sleeping. That would be cool.
“Think happy things,” Mr. Jack said. “Allow your stress and bad feelings to escape. Today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday.”
Wow, Mr. Jack was like Yoda from Star Wars, but taller and with muscles.
“Become one with the universe,” Mr. Jack told us. “The less you have, the more there is to get.”
Huh? That didn’t make any sense at all.
“Feel the energy within you,” said Mr. Jack. “It’s easier to wear slippers than to cover the earth with carpet.”
What?
“Let your tension melt away,” said Mr. Jack. “If you hit your toe with a hammer first thing in the morning, nothing worse can happen to you for the rest of the day.”
Wait. What? I was starting to think that Mr. Jack was crazy.
“Repeat after me,” he said. “I ying gah.”
WHAT?!
“I ying gah,” we all said, even though it made no sense at all.
“Again. I ying gah.”
“I ying gah . . . I ying gah . . . I ying gah . . . I ying gah . . .”
We had to say that dumb I ying gah thing about a million hundred times. It was the most boring thing in the history of the world.
“Okay, open your eyes,” Mr. Jack said.
Finally, it was over. What a relief!
Mr. Jack said he would be working with small groups, so our class got to stay in the gym while everybody else went to their classrooms.
“Does everyone feel relaxed now?” Mr. Jack asked us.
“Yes!” said all the girls.
“No!” said all the boys.
“We don’t want to learn that stuff,” Ryan told Mr. Jack. “We want to learn how to kick butt.”
“Yeah, Mr. Klutz didn’t bring you here to teach us how to breathe and stare at our eyelids,” said Alexia. “I thought you were supposed to show us how to defend ourselves in case of emergency.”
“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Mr. Jack replied. “Okay. Boys on one side of the gym, girls on the other.”
All right! Finally it was butt-kicking time!
Michael lined up across from Alexia.
Ryan lined up across from Emily.
Neil lined up across from Annette.
And I lined up across from . . . Andrea!
Yes! Finally! After all these years of being annoyed by Andrea, I would get to show her who’s boss. This was going to be the greatest day of my life.
“Oooooh!” Ryan said. “A.J. lined up across from Andrea. They must be in love!”
“When are you gonna get married?” asked Michael.
6
Sweet Revenge
I looked across the gym at Andrea. She was giving me the evil eye. I put on my meanest mean face. Finally I would get back at her for all the times she made fun of me. All the times she said mean things to me. All the times she did something better than me. Revenge would be sweet.
“You’re going down!” I shouted, pointing at Andrea.
“I don’t think so, Arlo,” Andrea replied.
Mr. Jack went to the room where all the sports equipment is stored. He came out rolling a big cart. It was full of helmets, kneepads, elbow pads, and every other kind of pads you can think of.
“Do you have any iPads?” I asked.
“Do we really have to put all this stuff on?” asked Neil the nude kid.
“Yes,” Mr. Jack replied. “We don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“Why not?” I asked. “Isn’t the whole point of fighting to hurt somebody?”
“We’re not fighting,” Mr. Jack told me. “We’re learning how to defend ourselves. There’s a difference. Wise is the man who knows when he runs out of invisible ink.”
What?! Mr. Jack sure knew a lot of weird wise sayings.
We all put on helmets and pads. After that, Mr. Jack took out a giant roll of plastic bubble wrap and he made us wrap ourselves up in it. He sealed it with duct tape.
I looked like a giant marshmallow. It would have been embarrassing, but everybody looked like giant marshmallows, so it was okay.* Mr. Jack stuck a name tag on each of us.
“Okay, A.J.,” he said. “When I count to three, I want you to attack Andrea.”
“With pleasure!” I said.
“And Andrea,” said Mr. Jack, “I want you to do everything you can to defend yourself.”
“Oh, I will,” Andrea said. “I will!”
“One . . . two . . . three!”
I came charging toward Andrea at full speed. My plan was to tackle her like we do in Pee Wee football. But at the last instant, Andrea stepped aside, grabbed my legs, and flipped me over. I went flying.
“Eeee-yah!” Andrea screamed.
I don’t know exactly what happened next, but when it was over, I was lying on the floor. All the girls were cheering and clapping. All the boys were giggling.
Okay, Andrea was lucky that time. Anybody can get lucky once in her life.
I got to my feet and came charging at Andrea again. This time, she bent over at the last second, pulled my arm, twisted it, and elbowed me in the stomach. Once again, I was on the floor.
“Eeee-yah!” Andrea screamed.
Okay, I must have slipped that time. It happens. I struggled to my feet and came charging at Andrea again. This time, I was careful not to let her grab me with her hands.
“Eeee-yah!”
Andrea spun around on one foot. The next thing I knew, her other foot was flying at my head. I tried to duck, but her foot caught me in the helmet and sent me reeling backward. I landed on the floor next to the bleachers.
“Nicely done, Andrea!” said Mr. Jack, clapping his hands. “Where did you learn how to do that?”
“I take karate classes after school,” Andrea said.
Now she tells me.
I should have known. Andrea takes classes in everything after school. If they gave classes in how to clip your toenails, she would take that class so she could get better at it.
“It looks like the shoe is on the other foot, Arlo,” Andrea said, sneering at me.
Huh? What did shoes have to do with anything? I looked down at my feet to make sure I hadn’t put my shoes on backward. That’s when Andrea came charging at me. I put my hands up at the last second to protect my face, but she took a flying leap, and the two of us landed in a heap on the floor, with Andrea sitting on top of me. She was holding her fists up in the air and all the girls were cheering.
“Oooooh!” Ryan said. “Andrea just totally kicked A.J.’s b
utt! They must be in love!”
“When are you gonna get married?” asked Michael.
If those guys weren’t my best friends, I would hate them.
7
The Key to Self-Defense
After that, we had to go back to class so the other grades could get their turn with Mr. Jack. My teacher, Mr. Granite, started talking about fractions and stuff, but I couldn’t pay attention. I kept thinking about what had happened in the gym.
Not only did a girl kick my butt, but the girl was Andrea. And not only did she kick my butt, but she kicked my butt with the whole class watching. The best day of my life had turned into the worst day of my life.
Sitting in class, I felt like everybody was looking at me and whispering. I thought I was gonna die. I wanted to run away to Antarctica and live with the penguins. Penguins don’t attack each other. Penguins are nice.
After about a million hundred minutes, an announcement came over the loudspeaker. Our class had to go down to the gym again for another session with Mr. Jack. I didn’t want to go, but I knew that I had to. If I said I didn’t feel well or made up some other excuse, everybody would know it was just because I didn’t want Andrea to kick my butt again.
We walked to the gym in single file. In the middle of the gym floor was a machine. It looked sort of like a big vacuum cleaner or something.
“What’s that, Mr. Jack?” asked Neil the nude kid.
“Oh, you’ll see,” Mr. Jack replied. “Let’s get down to business. I want the whole class to stand on the blue line.”
We all went over to the blue line. I stood between Ryan and Michael. Mr. Jack went over to the machine in the middle of the gym.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Ryan whispered to me.
“Me neither.”
“Now, the best way to defend yourself in a fight is to not get into the fight in the first place,” said Mr. Jack. “Right?”
“Right!” we all said. When grown-ups say “Right?” you should always answer “Right!” That’s the first rule of being a kid.
“So the key to self-defense is to avoid hand-to-hand combat,” said Mr. Jack. “Right?”
“Right!”
“Sometimes you have to be quick on your feet. Right?”
“Right!”
“You have to get out of the way. Right?”
“Right!”
Mr. Jack flipped a switch on the machine. It started making a whirring sound.
“So let’s see how good you are at getting out of the way,” Mr. Jack said.
He pushed a button on the machine, and you’ll never believe in a million hundred years what came shooting out of it.
Ping-Pong balls!
And they were coming directly at us!
“Watch out!” Alexia shouted.
Ping-Pong balls were flying everywhere. Everybody was yelling and screaming and freaking out.
“Why are you shooting Ping-Pong balls at us?” shouted Andrea.
“To see how good you are at getting out of the way!” shouted Mr. Jack. “Stay on the blue line! Try not to get hit!”
“Ow! He got me!” screamed Emily after a Ping-Pong ball bounced off her head.
“If you get hit, you’re out of the game,” Mr. Jack shouted. “Go sit on the side.”
Emily started crying, and she went running out of the gym. What a crybaby.
Mr. Jack moved the Ping-Pong machine back and forth so the balls sprayed across the whole class.
“Duck! Dive! Dip! Dodge!” he yelled, with a crazy look in his eyes. “Eagles may soar, but weasels don’t get sucked into jet engines.”
What?! Mr. Jack is a maniac!
We were all diving out of the way, but Ryan got hit on the leg. He was out. Then Michael got hit on the arm. He was out. Alexia got hit in the back. She was out. One by one, kids were getting nailed with Ping-Pong balls and going off to sit on the side of the gym.
“Aha-ha-ha!” yelled Mr. Jack after Neil the nude kid got hit in the chest. “Another one bites the dust!”
I was diving left and right and jumping up and down like crazy. There was only one other kid left on the blue line.
Andrea.
Mr. Jack stopped for a minute to reload the Ping-Pong ball machine. I was breathing really hard.
“Beat him again, Andrea!” shouted one of the girls.
“You can do it, A.J.!” shouted one of the boys.
“Only two kids left,” Mr. Jack said excitedly. “Who will be the last one standing?”
“I’d just like to say that I don’t approve of this violence,” Andrea said. “It’s inappropriate for children.”
“What do you have against violins?” I asked.
Mr. Jack pushed the button again, and Ping-Pong balls started flying at Andrea and me, faster than ever. I dove to my left. I dove to my right. I jumped up in the air. Then I heard a pop as a Ping-Pong ball hit Andrea on her shoulder.
“Ouch!” she yelled. “That hurt!”
Everybody started cheering. Mr. Jack turned off the machine.
“You are The Man, A.J.!” Ryan shouted.
Everybody in the class came over and told me how awesome I was. Andrea gave me a hug and said, “You’re my hero, Arlo!” Mr. Jack gave me a certificate that said I was a First-Class Ping-Pong Ball Avoider.
It was the greatest day of my life.
8
Intimidation
Mr. Jack rolled the Ping-Pong ball machine over to the corner of the gym. He told us to sit on the floor.
“Okay,” he said, “the next thing you kids need to learn is intimidation. That’s a pretty big word—five syllables. Does anybody know what it means?”
“A syllable is a part of a word,” I said.
“No, dumbhead!” Michael said. “He wants to know what ‘intimidation’ means.”
“I knew that,” I lied.
Andrea waved her hand in the air like she was trying to flag down a helicopter. What a brownnoser. So of course Mr. Jack called on her.
“When you intimidate somebody, you scare them,” Andrea said, looking all proud of herself.
“That’s right,” Mr. Jack said.*
Well, sure it was right. Andrea got one of those electronic book things for her birthday, so now she can look up words all the time to show everybody how smart she is. What is her problem? Why can’t a truck full of electronic books fall on Andrea’s head?
“There are many ways to intimidate an attacker,” Mr. Jack told us. “First, you need to know how to scream. Andrea, I heard you scream earlier. Would you please demonstrate?”
“Eeee-yah!” screamed Andrea. I covered my ears.
“Very good,” said Mr. Jack. “Eeee-yah! It’s even more intimidating if lots of people scream as a team. Let’s hear the rest of you.”
“Eeee-yah!” we all screamed.
“That wouldn’t intimidate a fly,” Mr. Jack said. “Louder!”
“Eeee-yah!” we all shrieked our heads off.
“Much better,” said Mr. Jack. “That’s teamwork! Next, you need to make yourself look big.”
“How can we be any bigger than we are?” asked Alexia.
“Like this,” Mr. Jack said. He raised his hands in the air and spread his legs apart. He actually looked bigger!
“Eeee-yah!” screamed Mr. Jack.
“I’m intimidated,” said Emily, who is intimidated by everything.
“If an attacker thinks you’re tough, he’ll think twice about bothering you,” Mr. Jack said. “Take off your jacket and wave it around in the air. You need to be as obnoxious as possible.”
“That should be easy for you, Arlo,” said Andrea. “You can be obnoxious without even trying.”
“Your face is obnoxious,” I told Andrea.
“Oh, snap!” said Ryan.
“If you’re really obnoxious,” Mr. Jack told us, “an attacker will think you’re crazy and leave you alone. Watch . . .”
Mr. Jack started screaming “Eeee-yah!” and stomping around a
nd waving his jacket and whistling.
And you’ll never believe who walked into the door at that moment.
Nobody! It would hurt if you walked into a door. But you’ll never believe who walked in the doorway.
It was Mr. Klutz!
He watched Mr. Jack screaming “Eeee-yah!” and stomping around and waving his jacket and whistling. Then Mr. Klutz shook his head, rubbed his forehead with his fingers, and left.
“See?” Mr. Jack said. “Mr. Klutz thinks I’m crazy, so he left me alone. That’s what I call intimidation!”
Mr. Jack is weird.
9
Don’t Try This at Home
After we learned how to be intimidating, it was time for lunch and recess. Then we went back to our regular class.
“Let’s pick up where we started this morning,” Mr. Granite told us. “Turn to page twenty-three in your—”
He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. At that moment, Mr. Jack suddenly ran into our classroom at full speed.
“Eeee-yah!” he screamed as he leaped up on Mr. Granite’s desk.
Everybody freaked out.
“Mr. Jack!” said Mr. Granite. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”
That’s grown-up talk for “What are you doing here?”
“You never know when you might get attacked,” said Mr. Jack. “Always be ready for the unexpected.”
“But if something is unexpected,” asked Andrea, “how can we be ready for it?”
For the first time in the history of the world, I agreed with Andrea.
“Yeah,” I said. “If we’re ready for it, it won’t be unexpected.”
Mr. Jack wasn’t listening. He was looking at the stuff on Mr. Granite’s desk. Then he picked up a glue stick and started waving it around.
“What would you do if I attacked you right now?” he shouted.
“With a glue stick?” asked Ryan.*
“Are you going to glue us to death?” asked Neil the nude kid.
“Anything can be a weapon!” shouted Mr. Jack as he leaped off Mr. Granite’s desk and shoved the glue stick in Neil’s face. “Someone could attack you with cotton balls. Someone could attack you with Q-tips! Always expect the unexpected!”