Red Samurai

by Tiffiny Hall

  ‘I’m drinking a Long Brown,’ she interrupts, holding up a Thermos.

  I shove my hobbyhorse at her and remove my poncho. ‘Please look after Maheadabell,’ I say, patting my old horse’s nose for luck, then walking to the start line, where Sergeant Major stands.

  Great. I’m racing against both Elecktra and Jackson. Elecktra has not taken off her wedges so I should have an advantage and Jackson’s bunny suit looks restrictive. I can do this.

  Sergeant Major calls, ‘On your marks, ready ready.’

  I place my fingertips on the start line and raise my bottom in the air.

  ‘Go!’ he booms.

  I’m off, churning my arms and legs. Jackson overtakes me quickly in a mauve blaze. Elecktra is struggling behind us in her wedges. My lungs burst with the effort. I’ve been running with the wind too often and I’ve lost a bit of fitness. Elecktra’s red wig suddenly zooms past me. I push harder to catch up, but I’m no match for the older kids with their long strides. Lecky is out in first place. She’s never won a race before. I notice her feet are hardly touching the ground — she’s using her powers! Lecky flashes a victorious smile at me, then blasts off, leaving us all in her red smoke. I don’t even get a place.

  After the race, Elecktra bounces over to Jackson, Cinnamon and me with her ribbon. ‘I won!’ she squeals.

  Jackson scrunches his nose. He has pencilled on whiskers. ‘You’re asking for it,’ he says.

  Elecktra smirks.

  ‘Poxy Roxy’s a loser!’ Hero shouts from the sidelines.

  Elecktra’s eyes cloud over, her mouth tightens and her fists clench. She spins towards Hero. ‘Cool it, short stuff! No one’s asking you to run an Open race!’ she yells.

  I can’t believe it — did my sister just stick up for me? Joy explodes inside my chest. I smile at Jackson and he winks. But I can tell he’s not convinced by Elecktra’s sudden sisterly love. He’s still so suspicious.

  Elecktra walks back to Rose. She ignores Hero, but joins the rest of his clan. All of them have red string tied around their wrists. Hero is teaching the samurai arts to norms — kids without fighter parents. His school martial arts team is growing stronger every week, like an army. Jackson says they’re training in a secret location in the bush.

  Later, I watch Lecky take up a discus. She spins into a blur, then throws it. The discus lands at her feet with poor technique, but she makes it leap five metres further with her mind. Rose House cheers. No one has questioned her sudden athleticism — she is a pro at disguising her powers as magic tricks or timely mistakes.

  ‘I won!’ Cinnamon joins me with a blue ribbon pinned to her red tracksuit top. ‘I can’t believe it! I won. For real!’

  I hug her. ‘You won for real!’ Her excitement is contagious. ‘What did you win?’ I’ve been too busy watching Elecktra’s every move to notice any of the other events. I haven’t even seen Jackson compete.

  ‘Hammer throw,’ she says. ‘Sergeant Major showed me how and when I threw my first one, he said I’m a natural. I’m better at throwing than climbing.’

  I remember Cim paralysed on the rock-climbing wall when she was only a ruler’s length off the ground. She’s changed so much. So far she has participated in school sport, represented Rose in the hammer throw, been bike riding after school and is trying to eat healthily, although she’s given up beetroot. At this rate she’ll be at the Olympics before we graduate.

  The sports carnival is winding up. We stand next to the long jump pit with my hobbyhorse, Maheadabell. Jackson approaches with so many blue ribbons pinned to his purple bunny costume that he looks like a decorated war hero.

  ‘Poor effort,’ I tease, flicking one of his ribbons.

  ‘Cute horse,’ he says, patting Maheadabell.

  When I don’t laugh, he asks, ‘Hey, are you okay, Roxy Rox?’

  Cinnamon looks at me, concerned.

  ‘Elecktra’s still acting weird, you know?’ I look up into the green pastures of his eyes. He stares down at me and smiles.

  ‘Oh, I know,’ he says. Cinnamon nods in agreement.

  ‘I think we need some professional help. Do you think it’s time to talk to Sabo?’ I ask.

  Jackson tilts his head and one bunny ear flops down over his face. Now I laugh. Cinnamon narrows her eyes.

  ‘I’m not sure about professionalism,’ he says, ‘but yeah, Sabo will convince her to train regularly.’ Jackson must think she’s turning ninja too! Nothing escapes Jackson. He has a sixth ninja sense — sniffing out other ninjas. Jackson walks off to join his House as Sergeant Major announces the awards ceremony is about to start.

  Cinnamon elbows me. ‘There’s something going on between you two!’

  ‘As if!’ I say, blushing badly.

  ‘Liar.’ She smiles as we join the other kids in a mash of rainbow colours on the oval. Everyone is shouting their House chants and thrusting their banners in the air. I sink into the pack circling Sergeant Major. I’m not feeling House-spirited today. My mind has been too full of Elecktra. How dare she use her powers when competing! And in such a ridiculous outfit. Outfit! That reminds me of Elecktra’s viewing party this afternoon. I’m not looking forward to seeing Chantell.

  Sergeant Major hushes the crowd and we wait anxiously for the results. Cinnamon is hovering in a cluster of red over with Rose House. I’m not expecting Cosmos to do well. Chantell was more interested in how to make brown fashionable than filling our events with competitors.

  ‘In third place,’ Sergeant Major pauses, ‘Tulip!’ The orange in the crowd go nuts and run up to him in a cloud of tangerine fizz.

  Sergeant Major hushes the crowd again. ‘In second place, we have —’

  ‘Me!’ some kid yells out. Sergeant Major shoots him a glare and the boy is swallowed into the Neapolitan swirl of brown Cosmos, pinky-red Rose and white Lily.

  Sergeant Major clears his throat. ‘In second place, we have,’ he repeats, ‘Iris!’ A blue wave of kids surges forwards and envelops Sergeant Major. They have blue-painted faces and some of them are dressed like Smurfs, sailors and Alice in Wonderland.

  I think first place will be a tie between Rose and Lily. Sergeant Major waits for us to be quiet.

  Elecktra is standing at the front of Rose, her red wig blowing in the breeze. She would love to be House captain one day. I don’t know why though. Whenever she has to do something in a team, she blabs on about how much teams make her stressed and ‘stressed’ spelled backwards equals ‘desserts’. So according to her logic, being in a team will only make her fat. Lecky logic is confusing, I know.

  ‘Drum roll?’ Sergeant Major asks. We all tap our thighs to drum up suspense.

  ‘In first place, the winning House is … wait for it …’ We hit our thighs harder to make the drum roll louder. ‘Rose!’ he yells.

  The first person to scream is Cinnamon. She throws her cowboy hat into the air and yells, ‘Yee-ha!’

  Rose blazes to the front in furious excitement. Cinnamon is high-fiving everyone and even earns a high-five from Elecktra. I can’t take my eyes off Cinnamon — she’s glowing. Today she won her first race and now she’s part of a winning team. She rarely used to leave my side, but now she’s hanging out with other kids. Her emotional fitness has improved so much too. I’m supersonic proud of my friend.

  I feel a soft paw on my shoulder and turn to see Jackson. I’m lost in his eyes when Cinnamon nearly knocks me over with her enthusiasm.

  ‘Hey, can I come to the dojang tonight with you and Elecktra?’ she asks. ‘I can be your wing-woman with Mr Axe,’ she whispers into my ear so Jackson doesn’t hear.

  ‘Cim!’ I shush her.

  ‘We need as many fighters as we can find,’ Jackson says.

  Cinnamon claps her hands and runs back to her House. I watch her showing another Gate Two her hammer-throw technique.

  ‘Well, she’s turned over a new leaf,’ Jackson says.

  ‘She’s a new tree,’ I say.

  ‘Don’t worry too much about Eleck
tra,’ he says. ‘I reckon she’ll show us who she really is soon enough. Don’t stress.’

  He’s right. Elecktra will be a ninja when she’s ready to be a ninja. She’s too busy being Lecky now. All I can do until then is support my sister, starting with her viewing party this afternoon.

  ‘Want to come to a viewing party for the Teen Choice Awards?’ I ask.

  Jackson looks at me crookedly and I laugh.

  ‘Nah, man. I think I’ll leave it to the girls. I’ve seen Elecktra’s blog and I’m not a fan of her Rug Report,’ he says.

  ‘Well, I don’t think she needs your fashion advice anyway,’ I say, pointing to his bunny tail. He winks.

  We walk across the oval with my hobbyhorse. A black shadow crosses our path. I look up into the sky, but it’s overcast.

  ‘The town is filling with shadows,’ I say, patting Maheadabell.

  Jackson squeezes my hand with his purple fluffy paw. ‘And these shadows have no sunshine,’ he says.

  I race home to watch the Teen Choice Awards at Elecktra’s viewing party, which consists of me, Chantell and Elecktra. Elecktra has made fairy bread and Chantell has brought over soft drink. They are best friends again, as if nothing ever happened.

  ‘Shut up,’ Elecktra says to me. It’s not even five minutes into the party and Lecky is being mean. Her moods are driving me nuts. I never know if she’s going to hug me or hit me.

  ‘Lecky, I didn’t say anything,’ I say, taking a seat on the couch.

  ‘Your face said it all. This is a viewing party, not a point-of-view party. So take your status updates somewhere else, thank you,’ she says. If Chantell wasn’t here, she’d be all nice to me, I bet. What is it with Gate One? They care so much about what other people think that they don’t think for themselves.

  ‘I don’t think Mum would want us —’

  ‘Celebrating the world’s greatest talents, fashion and “girl stole my looks”?’ Elecktra interrupts. ‘Of course she does! This is the kids’ Oscars.’ She points to the red carpet of the Teen Choice Awards.

  I was going to say Mum wouldn’t want us eating fairy bread and drinking soft drink. Lucky she’s out and Art doesn’t mind.

  Chantell and Lecky erupt with anger over a teen girl blowing a kiss to the camera. She’s wearing a tank top, miniskirt and ankle boots.

  ‘Is she kidding? Who would wear a statement necklace with those accents? That bag and those shoes. And the ugly hair extensions. Chantell!’ Lecky screeches.

  Chantell lifts panicky eyes from the laptop on her knees. ‘Internet’s dropped out.’

  Elecktra rushes over to the laptop and hits the keys. ‘My blog!’ she screams. ‘I can’t live like this! I need the comfort of everlasting internet access to function.’

  I’m sure no one’s dying to read Lecky’s Rug Report, but she’s treating it like a triple-zero emergency. ‘Geez, what a party,’ I mutter.

  ‘It’s him!’ Chantell squeals, pointing at the boy on the TV. ‘Yay! And internet’s back on.’

  ‘Star light, star bright,’ Elecktra sings. ‘He’s nailed it!’ Her cheeks heat jam red and her feet lift off the ground in excitement.

  ‘Lecky!’ I hiss. She realises her mistake and drops onto the arm of the couch. Chantell is oblivious, madly typing Elecktra’s Rug Report.

  ‘Ten out of ten,’ Elecktra dictates to Chantell.

  Elecktra must start training. She can’t control her levitation. What happens if she spots a pair of shoes she likes in a magazine and flies off into the trees at lunchtime?

  I stride over and pull the cords out of the back of the TV. The screen flicks blank.

  ‘Roxy!’ Elecktra moans.

  ‘Party’s over.’ I shrug. I’m sick of Elecktra only being nice to me when no one else is around. I’m taking charge. ‘I really need you to come to the dojang with me now,’ I say.

  Elecktra disappears behind the TV, but can’t figure out which of the cords fit into the yellow, white and red holes. Chantell is busy blogging. I’m not sure she’s noticed me at this ‘party’ yet.

  ‘Will Jackson be there?’ Elecktra asks, poking her head out from behind the TV.

  I purse my lips. ‘Yeah, think so.’

  ‘Then I’ll come,’ she agrees.

  ‘5pm at the dojang,’ I tell her.

  ‘Art!’ she screams upstairs. ‘TV broken!’

  I hear Art’s footsteps and flash invisible to walk up to my room. Lecky is too busy fiddling with the TV to notice and I don’t exist to Chantell anyway. Reading the Ninja News is more fun than a viewing party, I reckon.

  TEN

  ‘Welcome to the dojang,’ Sabomin greets Cinnamon, Elecktra and me at the door of the practice hall in his Taekwondo uniform, his frayed black belt tied low under his belly. I tell Lecky that ‘Sabomin’ means ‘Instructor’ in Korean.

  ‘I thought he would look more like a GI Joe,’ she whispers, looking at him the way she watches documentaries. Real life is a disappointment to her. ‘I’m Elecktra,’ she says loudly to Sabo.

  ‘Elecktra,’ he says, shaking her hand, ‘strong name.’

  Strong, yeah, but I reckon it sounds more like a brand of nail polish. Lecky smiles.

  We stand behind the dojang doors, peering through the glass at Jackson teaching a class of twenty ninjas how to run up a wall. I’m so happy to finally have Cinnamon’s eyes eagerly devour every inch of the room. She is still glowing after her win at the sports carnival today and hasn’t taken off her crowning glory — her lucky cowboy hat.

  ‘So what belt are you?’ Lecky asks me, squashing her face against the glass to scout the room for talent — cute boys. But she can’t see any of their faces under the ninja hoods.

  ‘White belt still. There’s a grading in a few weeks,’ I say, looking at Sabo hopefully. Elecktra is unimpressed.

  ‘Jackson is one of our best instructors,’ Sabo says to Lecky. ‘Look at that mat chat. His student connection is uncanny.’

  Jackson notices us through the doors and smiles. Elecktra bows to him like she’s seen martial artists do in movies. He winks at us, but I think the wink was meant for me. Cinnamon elbows me in the ribs again.

  He finishes the wall run-ups and the class splits into groups to practise different techniques. There is one group kicking on the hanging bags, a second group practising knife threats, another group sparring and a fourth group practising ground fighting.

  ‘Before you came, we were discussing swords versus nunchucks in self-defence,’ Sabomin says when Jackson joins us at the dojang entrance.

  Jackson nods. ‘Everyone should know some self-defence. It’s dangerous out there.’ He looks pointedly at me. I think of the shadows spreading across the oval at the sports carnival and shudder.

  ‘Classic me,’ Elecktra says. ‘I forgot to bring my black belt.’

  ‘You’re not a black belt!’ Cinnamon says.

  Lecky winks at Jackson. ‘I’m a black belt in adorable.’

  This is going to be harder than I thought. Cinnamon rolls her eyes.

  I elbow Elecktra in the ribs. ‘Elecktra, tell Sabo why we’re here.’

  She dumps her breath out of her nose like a horse and pulls on her school tie. It has been crafted into a tiny knot around her neck, like a miniature martial arts belt. She looks fascinated by the ninjas learning self-defence.

  ‘Well, I would like to show you some of my new moves. I need to know where my magic has come from and Roxy wants me to learn how to control it,’ she says in a formal English accent.

  ‘Lecky, please be serious,’ I say. ‘No accents.’

  ‘Don’t be so self-defensive.’ She giggles.

  Jackson hands Elecktra a black ninja uniform and a white ninja belt. ‘Why don’t you try this on?’ he says.

  Elecktra drops her chin and glares. ‘My style is New York, but today I’m feeling very London. This is not London,’ she pouts. Elecktra’s dream is to visit the ‘Big Four’ fashion capitals of the world: Milan, New York, London and Paris. She’s
only ever visited the fashion capital of Lanternwood — Royal Central Mall — and it’s only two levels. She says any shopping mall with a nail spa called ‘Beauty and the Beach’ isn’t high fashion. I love going to Royal Central. I’m a fan of the food court. Mum lets us go to Pita Wrapbit, which makes the best thick healthy wraps. I bet Milan doesn’t have one of those.

  ‘You like the London look, hey?’ Sabo says. ‘Draw a Union Jack on it, spill on some mint sauce, crush it in crisps. Do what you have to. But you’ll need to wear this to begin your training.’

  I laugh. Elecktra burns. Sabomin and I operate on a mutual understanding — in training I don’t grab his hair because he can’t afford to lose any more and in exchange he teaches me everything he knows about martial arts. I’ve grown really fond of him. He is one of the most honest people I know.

  ‘This dojangle sucks,’ Elecktra says.

  ‘Ah, technically it’s dojo in the Japanese art of Ninjutsu and a dojang in the Korean art of Taekwondo,’ Sabo corrects her.

  ‘Well, it’s dojangle to me!’ she argues.

  Jackson shrugs and walks back into class.

  ‘Lecky, you don’t get to make the rules,’ I say.

  ‘You’re such a nerd!’ she bites back.

  ‘I’m not a nerd. Nerds dig soil erosion, take metal detectors to the beach and wear socks with sandals!’

  ‘I’ve heard metal detectors don’t make much money anyway,’ Cinnamon adds.

  ‘Girls! Kalyo! That’s Taekwondo talk for “break”. Wow,’ Sabo says to Cinnamon, ‘they need a referee.’ She nods.

  ‘Fine. I’ll wear your stupid Karate uniform. But I better not find any photos on Facebook,’ Elecktra says. She is a Facebook sensation. Her status updates spark debates throughout the schools of Lanternwood. She once declared an eight-day week in honour of her favourite designer passing away. Monday became Mournday and everyone at Gate One came to school wearing an element of Devastated Chic.

  ‘One film about one kid kicking on a stinking beach and all martial arts are the same as Karate,’ Sabo mutters under his breath.

  ‘I hate anything that starts with a K and that includes Kamping, Kiddie Discoveries and Krumping,’ Elecktra mumbles as she walks off to the change rooms. ‘Kiddie Discoveries are never surprising — the dumb toy inside the chocolate bear is always a disappointment!’