by Annie Bryant
Maeve followed her mother and father up into the bleachers. She hoped they weren’t going to sit there forever. The tae kwon do people should be showing a Karate Kid movie or Jackie Chan flick for people who had to wait around all day.
“Did anyone get a program?” Maeve asked. She had already realized she couldn’t sit there for hours with her parents. They were whispering like teenagers. And her mother was giggling. Giggling! And totally ignoring her. Boy, was this weird.
“What time is Sam’s group going on? I don’t think I can sit here much longer.”
Her father looked at the program. “Best I can figure, it might be another hour or more before his group tests.” Dad dug in his pocket. “Here, Maeve, why don’t you go see if you can find us something to eat? I didn’t have any breakfast.”
“Ross, you didn’t eat breakfast?”
“A cup of coffee. I forgot to get groceries. And I usually go out for breakfast before the first matinee.”
Maeve took the fistful of dollar bills. “I’ll try, but I don’t have too much hope of finding anything.”
She could spend an hour looking around. And once Sam did his thing, they’d leave and get a late lunch. Her father was definitely in a good mood. He was enjoying her mother’s company. A big smile escaped onto Maeve’s face.
She stuffed the money into her tote bag and stepped down the bleachers into a sea of buzzing white outfits. Like snow bees. Was there any such thing as snow bees? Maeve Kaplan-Taylor, explorer, in search of the elusive snow bees on the slopes of Mount Kilimanjaro.
That sounded like a good plot, and a fun place to go on location. Unless she actually had to climb the mountain. Maybe there were chairlifts.
In a couple of minutes, she went from being an explorer/ tomb raider to feeling a little uneasy. There were about a million guys there. Two boys her age stopped to talk to her.
“Are you testing today?” A boy with red hair almost the shade of hers smiled at her.
“What belt do you have?” Red’s friend had the kind of blue eyes you only read about or saw in the movies.
“She’s not testing today,” another boy said. His teeth were covered with metallic blue braces. “Can’t you see she’s not dressed for testing? Do you have a red belt already? Black? No, you couldn’t have a black belt.”
“I—I—” This was more boy attention than even she was used to.
Just smile and keep your cool. This is how it will be everywhere you go when you’re a famous actress or rock star. You can do it.
“Has—does anyone know where I can get something to drink?” She stuttered when she asked, but she smiled to make up for it.
“Maeve, hey, Maeve, what are you doing here?” A familiar voice called to her. She reached out for the speaker like he was a lifesaver ring tossed to her while drowning and surrounded by big white sharks.
“Dillon? Dillon is that you? I didn’t know you were taking tae kwon do.”
Either he was, or he’d dressed in white pants so he’d fit in. His smiling face was terribly welcome. And when he took her arm and pulled her off to the side, away from that crush of admirers, she could have hugged him. She didn’t, of course. She would never want to embarrass him like that.
“Yeah, I’m going for my red belt today. Want to come and watch?”
Maeve looked at Dillon. She thought basketball was his only interest. Dillon…Riley…just when you think you know someone, they go and surprise you.
“If you want to come,” Dillon invited again, “we have to hurry.”
“I—oh—yes, but I’ll have to tell my parents where I am. We’re here to watch Sam get his yellow belt.”
“That’s after my test. You’ll have plenty of time.”
Maeve took off to find her parents again and tell them where she was. “Mom, Dad, I found Dillon here. He wants me to watch his exam.”
“How do you always find someone you know when we go somewhere?” her mother asked.
“She’s outgoing, Carol.” Her father smiled at Maeve. “Just like you were in school. Go ahead, Maeve, but be sure you get back to watch Sam’s test.”
“I have a program. I will, I promise.”
Maeve took off, making sure not to run and look too eager. But she didn’t want Dillon to be late. He grabbed her hand, and they took off to another open area. Dillon pointed to bleachers. “If you sit close to that mat, you can see.”
He got in line behind a class of boys and one girl about his age. Only once, before he went on the mat, did he look up, smile, and wave. Then he became someone she didn’t know.
He bowed to the mat, to his teacher, then in front of someone with a clipboard and pen. The teacher put Dillon through a series of moves. He kicked out in front, spun, and kicked in back. He made a whole string of precise moves, holding poses, jumping into new stances. His technique was similar to what Sam had been trying to do all over the house, except that Dillon looked almost professional, like the Karate Kid, but taller.
Maeve had never seen Dillon so serious. Never once did he look up and wave or smile at her. His mind was totally focused—not the goofy cutup he was in school.
He moved on to sparring, being assigned an opponent. The teacher watched as the two boys moved precisely. It seemed to be up to Dillon’s opponent to protect himself. As Dillon threw a punch, he yelled “Aiiiii,” just like Sam had been doing as Cato. The boy would fight back, they’d slide across the mat fighting, then chop with the side of a hand. There were probably names for the moves, but Maeve had no idea what they were. She just knew that Dillon was good, as were each of the boys he fought against. She was glad he didn’t fight with the girl, although once she took her eyes off Dillon to watch her for a few seconds. She seemed to be holding her own.
When they were finished, there was a ceremony. Dillon walked up to his teacher and bowed. The teacher pulled off Dillon’s blue belt and tied the red belt around his waist. Dillon bowed again. The class stood at the edge of the mat watching until each person got a new belt. Maeve was so glad. Flunking in front of this crowd of parents and friends would have been too embarrassing.
Dillon stepped off the mat, bowed a final time, then hurried over to where she sat. “What did you think, Maeve? Want to take lessons?”
“Fabulous, Dillon. I had no idea you could do that.”
“It’s not something I talk about a lot. This is kind of…you know…private.” Maeve was surprised at how serious Dillon’s voice sounded.
“Thank you for letting me watch.” Dillon had shared an intriguing side of himself Maeve might never have known about had she not run into him. She felt kind of special.
“I’ll go with you to watch Sam,” Dillon offered.
“Okay. Do you ever teach the younger kids?”
“I’m ready to do that now. I wanted to get my red belt first.”
“Is black next?”
“Yes, first degree black, then there are more advanced degrees. I’ll stay with it and go as far as I can.” Maeve could see it now. Dillon and Maeve in Hollywood. Mr. and Mrs. Kung Fu.
Dillon held out his hand and together they ran back to where Sam was going to test at one end of a big gym.
“Look, Mom, Dad, Dillon got his red belt,” Maeve said. “It was awesome to watch. Much different from a karate movie. We came back to watch Sam. Is he up next?”
“Almost. Come up here and sit down,” her father said. “Talk to me, Dillon. Tell me why you decided to take a martial arts class. What do you think? You think an old guy like me could take this sport on?”
Maeve looked at her mother. Mom shrugged, smiled, and then hugged Maeve to her while Dad and Dillon visited. Maeve was glad for her father to get to know Dillon. She was glad to learn something she didn’t know about Dillon. Maybe he was two people, the goofy guy who teased her all the time, who loved the cheers from the Abigail Adams basketball fans, and this poised, serious fighter guy.
She liked both.
Sam waved as he ran out to his mat to test. They wat
ched him go through a scaled down version of Dillon’s test. But Maeve could see something happening to Sam when he got on the floor and performed his moves for the tester. Sam was growing up a little bit. Maeve was proud of her pesky little brother. She’d tell him so when they got home.
Dad invited Dillon to go to lunch with them, but Dillon said his family was expecting him home.
Family. Maeve liked that word. She also liked the idea of Family Day, which had been surprisingly fun and not at all boring. And Maeve now had new hope that her own family would be back together again someday.
CHAPTER 8
Basketball Rules!
Charlotte had planned to meet Isabel in The Sentinel office before school on Monday. She was still polishing her feature article on the Lake Rescue experience, and Isabel needed to put finishing touches on two cartoons.
“Before I forget to tell you, Charlotte, Isabel…” Jennifer Robinson, editor of the school newspaper said. “You two did a great job on the seventh-grade page. Ms. Knowland couldn’t be here this early this morning, but she sends her congratulations. She said your idea, Charlotte, of having seventh-grade reporters was excellent.” Jennifer pushed up her funky purple glasses and smiled.
“You’re going to ask me to write something else, aren’t you, Jen?” Charlotte said. She appreciated the compliment, but she was also suspicious of Jennifer’s motives.
Jennifer grinned. “Uh-oh, you’re getting to know me too well. That was fast. Riley said to tell you he couldn’t have a music review done this time, and Maeve must have totally forgotten she said she’d have an ‘Ask Maeve’ column for this issue. Can you check with her on that? But no matter what, I need one more article from you, by tomorrow, about the trip in general. Just remember some things you did and an anecdote about each. Not a thought piece, like your feature, which is terrific. I read it this morning.”
“But, Jen, I’m not finished with it. I have more to add, and I haven’t corrected it yet.” Charlotte was dismayed that Jennifer had read an unfinished piece of writing. She liked people to see her best work. It made her feel uncomfortable to turn in something that wasn’t proofed.
“That’s okay. You have good last-minute changes. That’s why I know you can write this article by tomorrow. It’s great practice for working on a newspaper.” Jennifer hurried to her desk, piled high with work. Her in-basket overflowed, and empty cans of soda littered the entire desk.
“I don’t think I want to be a newspaper reporter, Isabel,” Charlotte said in a low voice. “But maybe she’s right. I need to learn to write faster.”
“Good luck. The more pressure someone puts on me to draw something, the more I panic. I can’t work at all. I have to be relaxed and happy to create. I’m very right brained, you know?”
“Hi, Charlotte, Isabel.” Chelsea Briggs walked in with a handful of discs. “Do you have time to look at photos and help me choose? I took a ton of pictures at camp so I’d have choices, and now I can’t choose. I’ve narrowed them down to ten, but Jennifer says I can have only two this week. Charlotte, you’re the seventh-grade page editor. Maybe you can make room for three.”
Isabel looked at Charlotte. Charlotte was sure her face reflected dismay at the load of work and only two days left to finish.
She could stay after school today and come in early tomorrow and that was it. Unless…she had library today, and maybe she could get out of gym.
Isabel chimed in. “I’ll help you, Chelsea, if you look at three cartoons and give me suggestions. I’m like you, I can’t choose, but in an emergency I could deliver them Wednesday morning.”
Charlotte could have hugged Isabel for saving her. She hated to say no to Chelsea, who had really come out of her shell lately, but she had her own work to finish. One more rewrite would polish her feature. Charlotte was used to working on poetry where every word had to be perfect. And old habits die hard, the cliché goes. At least there wasn’t time for any fear to wade through. And the seventh-grade page was your idea, a little voice reminded her. “Yeah, yeah.” She smiled and started her computer.
Who’s In? Who’s Out?
Avery got through classes on Monday the way she usually did—laughing, joking, and giving Billy Trentini and his twin brother, Josh, a hard time. But underneath, she was about to burst. She was sure she’d made the basketball team, but ever since she had been excluded from Julie’s party, she had started to feel that nothing was a sure thing anymore.
She’d have bet anything that Julie Faber would have invited her to her birthday party. Now she thought maybe Julie hated her. Just goes to show, you never know what other people are thinking and feeling, especially if they’re really good fakers.
“Any news yet about the team, Avery?” Charlotte asked at lunch when all the BSG met at their table. “I’m sure your name will be at the top of the list.”
“Numero uno.” Isabel held up her finger.
“And you’ll be numero dos,” Avery countered. She knew a little bit of Spanish herself.
“Any number will suit me, as long as I make the team.”
“What’s the word for team in Spanish?” Avery asked.
“Equipo,” Isabel said.
Equipo. As much as Avery loved sports and the BSG and Marty, she kind of liked words, too. She and Charlotte had that in common. She wasn’t as creative with her writing as Charlotte, though. She preferred talking. She wished Abigail Adams had a debate team. She’d try out. If you were good with words, you could talk yourself in or out of anything, except maybe getting an invitation to the party of the year.
Avery bit her lip. She wanted to stop thinking about the party. But, a little voice in her head kept repeating Julie Faber, Julie Faber. It was weird how you could be feeling so good about yourself, and one person could totally ruin your mood. It wasn’t fair.
Maybe she’d surprise Julie and everyone else by showing up anyway. She’d walk into the room and find the party was a total flop. No one would be talking, except for people whispering about what to do. Avery would hand Julie a stack of games, and pretty soon everyone would be laughing and saying, “What a great party.” That Avery had saved the day. And Julie would come over to her and apologize. “I’m really sorry I didn’t invite you in the first place, Avery, I’m sorry, I’m sorry….”
“Earth to Avery. World to Avery. Come in, Avery.” Katani reminded her she was at lunch. “What are you thinking about? Basketball tryouts? Why did I ask?”
Avery blinked once and shot back to Planet Earth. To cover her brief lapse, she pulled out a banana. “What’s with the odd couple?” Avery asked, pointing to Anna, sitting beside the Yurtmeister, or was he sitting beside her?
“You never know about chemistry,” Maeve answered. “Do you think Anna will go out with Henry? He keeps hanging out with her. Maybe he’s hoping she’ll get used to seeing him and give in to a date or something.”
“Used to be Anna and Joline were so predictable, but these days I’m not so sure.” Avery smiled. “But I think Anna will make the basketball team for sure. They’re going to post names after school today in the gym. Want to go practice math cheers with Isabel and me after school, Maeve? While we wait for the news?”
“No, I don’t want people to know I have to do that to learn math.” Maeve looked at all of them. “Not that I don’t appreciate your trying to help me, guys. I do, and the funny thing is, that story problem about Dillon inviting me to lunch is still in my head. And I keep thinking of more. I think I could work any story problem on a test easily. Why do you think that is?”
“We turned math into something you were interested in, Maeve.” Charlotte laughed. “If we wrote a movie about how a right-angle girl fell in love with a square boy, got married, and together they made a triangle kid who rode a tricycle, you’d remember that.”
“Yeah, tri means three. Do you think I could get Matt to use that technique?” Maeve looked perkier, ready to smile and be her old self. “We could call the movie Romantic Equation.”
“Matt might be glad for you to have a breakthrough any way you can get it,” Charlotte said.
Avery chugged the rest of the lime water she’d brought in her lunch sack. “Hey, Dillon,” Avery called out. Dillon was returning his lunch tray. Nick Montoya walked beside him.
“Dude? Basketball team list out yet?”
“No. But I wondered how you did on your test. Did you get your red belt?”
“Ask Maeve.” Dillon smiled. He pushed Nick, Nick pushed back. They sparred their way out of the lunch room.
“He did,” Maeve said to Avery. “I watched him. How did you know that Dillon was taking tae kwon do? And why didn’t you tell me? I only saw him at the meet by accident. He seems to have kept the classes quiet.”
“Maybe the subject just never came up, Maeve. You and Dillon need to sit and talk more instead of your just romanticking about him.” Avery made a goofy face at Maeve.
“‘Romanticking’? I love that word.” Charlotte laughed.
“I’ll think about that.” Maeve smiled. “I could sit and talk to Dillon about tae kwon do. Sam got his yellow belt. I was pretty amazed. He settled down the minute he got on the mat and was as polite to his teacher and his opponent as I’ve ever seen him.”
“That’s part of what they teach in self-defense classes, Maeve. Respect for your enemies,” said Charlotte.
“Then you totally respect Julie Faber, Ave?” Katani asked.
“I really didn’t know she was my enemy. If she makes the team, I’ll play fair with her, but don’t ask me to like her.”
R-E-S-P-E-C-T
As soon as the last bell rang, Avery and Isabel raced each other to the gym. They approached the bulletin board where a crowd of seventh-and eighth-grade girls pushed and shoved, trying to see the list posted there. Avery kept her cool, but in her pocket, her fingers were crossed, and butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Instead of pushing and shoving like the crowd, Avery moved away. She took a deep breath and executed a few jumping jacks. On her last hop, Anna and Joline approached, looking as pleased with themselves as they usually did.