Body Shot (The Dojo)

by Patrick Jones

  Latasha loosened her grip on Meghan’s arm but leaned in closer. “That’s not the pain I’m talking about, and you know it.”

  Meghan glared at Latasha with a fighter’s scowl but said nothing. She turned and walked away. Latasha followed behind her, yelling, “You gotta get off the wheel, Meghan.”

  “Meghan, wake up!” Her grandmother’s voice sounded concerned.

  Meghan slowly opened her eyes to see her extended family sitting around the table at her grandparents’ house. She’d fallen asleep in the middle of the Thanksgiving meal.

  “Are you okay?” her grandmother asked.

  “Just tired,” Meghan answered.

  “Maybe you should get some sleep every now and then,” her uncle said.

  “Maybe she shouldn’t spend so much time at the dojo,” her grandmother countered.

  “Maybe I’m tired of this bickering,” Meghan said, which silenced the room. She stared at her uncle. He looked at her with suspicion like Miss Allison did at school.

  Meghan’s aunt Judy broke the silence. “Megs, can you join us to go shopping Saturday evening?”

  “Thanks, but I’m busy. I’m going over to Shawn’s to watch a UFC pay-per-view.”

  “Oh, goodness, they even fight on Thanksgiving weekend. Honestly, Daniel, I don’t know how you got hooked up with this, and now to have your niece fighting too?”

  “I fight for me, not for him,” Meghan said, which wasn’t entirely true. She wanted to please her uncle. She also had no choice of other sports. She’d been an athlete all her life, but the accident robbed her of the mobility and speed crucial to the team sports she used to do. She couldn’t run, jump, or drive to the basket. She could only stand and fight.

  “Can we talk about something else?” Meghan’s grandmother asked. She led the conversation in a different direction, while Meghan fought the urge to drift off to sleep.

  “I’ll be right back.” Meghan excused herself from the table, grabbed her purse, and went into the bathroom. Some girls at the dojo purged to make weight. But why stick fingers down your throat, she thought, when you could just swallow a pill?

  “Honey, could we speak with you for a minute?” Meghan’s grandfather said when she returned. Her grandparents stood in the kitchen, away from the rest of the family.

  Meghan nodded and rested against the countertop. “We know you’ve been working very hard trying to juggle school, helping out around the house, and fighting,” her grandmother said.

  Meghan braced herself for the blow.

  “You need a vacation from all of this,” her grandmother continued.

  “A vacation?”

  “We know you have some heavy training coming up for your first amateur fight. But first, we all think you need to clear your head, rest your body, and reset your focus,” her grandmother said.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “We’re not,” her grandmother said. “We’re sending you and your uncle to Hawaii for your winter break. I know it will be tough being in the Hawaiian sun rather than the cold, damp Missouri December.” Her grandparents laughed.

  “Is something wrong?” her grandfather asked.

  “Can I bring one of my friends with me instead of Uncle Daniel?” Meghan asked.

  “No, this was actually his idea. He’s worried about you too,” her grandfather said. Her grandparents’ eyes glanced away, avoiding hers.

  “But I bet Latasha would—” Meghan started.

  “Won’t she have a holiday tournament like you used to have?” her grandfather asked.

  “How about Tommy?” Meghan asked. Her grandparents frowned in unison.

  After a pause, her grandmother spoke. “We think it’s best that you not spend time with Tommy.”

  “Why?” Meghan decided to press them. See what they actually knew.

  More eyes darting back and forth. “She’s a bad influence,” her grandfather offered.

  “You don’t get to pick my friends!” Meghan said more loudly.

  “You’re right,” her grandfather said. “You’re only months away from being an adult. But I guess we had hoped you’d make better choices.”

  “You don’t know anything about Tommy,” Meghan countered.

  “We know enough,” her grandfather said.

  “How? From whom?” Meghan shouted. Her grandparents didn’t answer. Meghan fumed as it came to her. They didn’t know about Tommy’s pill connections, but somebody else did. And she had talked.

  “How dare you!” Meghan shouted into the phone, sitting on her bed with her door closed.

  “Happy Thanksgiving to you too,” Latasha replied.

  “What are you doing talking with my grandparents about Tommy?” Meghan asked.

  “Drastic times call for drastic measures,” Latasha said. “I could tell you weren’t listening to me, so I thought maybe you’d listen to family. Even though I thought that’s what we were.”

  “Stay out of this.”

  “You’re still like family to me, no matter what,” Latasha said. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

  “Like I said, stay out of my business,” Meghan snapped. “Tommy’s my friend.”

  “She used to be our friend,” Latasha said. “Now, to her, you’re just income.”

  In one swift motion, Meghan hung up the phone and opened her pillbox. She swallowed four Somas and waited for the dreamy state to kick in. With the pills, there was no before, no after, no pain; there was here, now, and joyful nothingness. The Somas were like a KO punch she welcomed every night.

  “Meghan, come here,” Mr. Matsuda called out as Meghan walked into the dojo. She jogged over to where Mr. Matsuda stood. Next to him was a girl who reminded Meghan of Latasha—just as tall and athletic-looking.

  “Meghan, this is Josie Roberts. She’s a black belt in jiu-jitsu, thanks to me.” The girl bowed to Mr. Matsuda, and they laughed. “Nice to meet you,” Meghan said.

  “She’s been training over at the MMA Academy and—”

  “I’d love to train here with Mr. Matsuda, but it’s too far from my house,” Josie said.

  “She’s only trained in MMA for about a year, but she has a solid background,” Mr. Matsuda continued. “But she’s got the same problem you have. No real competition, so we thought—”

  “Yes!” Meghan shouted. Josie laughed.

  “So she’ll join us for drills tonight, and then you two will spar at the end of the night, OK?”

  “I’m ready to rumble,” Josie replied and picked up her gym bag. “You ready to bring it?”

  Meghan stared her down, but Josie kept smiling. Why wasn’t she scared? With Meghan’s fearsome scowl and scarred face—Josie wouldn’t know the scars didn’t come from fighting—Josie should be shaking. Meghan wondered if Josie had a secret weapon too.

  “So, what do you think?” Meghan asked Jackson as they drilled together.

  Jackson threw a hard right against the blocker, which knocked Meghan back an inch.

  “I think it’s a great idea,” Jackson said. “I hope we all get a chance to do that.”

  “Do what?” Hector said as he walked over. Nong was a step behind with the blocker.

  Meghan explained how she’d get to spar with Josie, to practice fighting a better-matched and less familiar opponent. Like Jackson, Hector seemed interested in doing the same, though he hardly showed it. Nong talked a lot without really saying anything. A normal night at the dojo.

  “Hey, I’m going to Hawaii for Christmas break since the dojo is closed,” Meghan said.

  “Sweet,” Nong said. “Maybe you’ll run into BJ Penn.”

  “Who?” Meghan asked.

  “He was the second fighter in UFC history to win titles in two different weight classes,” Nong said.

  “Who was first?” Hector asked.

  “UFC Hall of Famer Randy Couture,” Nong said. “You know who is next to do that?”

  “Jon Jones?” Jackson offered up the name of his MMA hero.

  “Nong �
�The Ninja Warrior’ Vang, that’s who!” Nong shouted, then threw an air kick.

  Meghan laughed, while Hector and Jackson just shook their heads in some strange combination of amusement and disgust. “Well, first, you’ve gotta win in amateur, Ninja Warrior.”

  As they drilled, they talked about their first amateur fights, which would happen soon after their eighteenth birthdays. Meghan’s fight would be right after they graduated from high school, while the others would fight before.

  The topic turned to their plans for after high school. Nong and Hector wanted to dedicate themselves full-time to training, while Jackson’s goal was to join the Army Special Forces.

  “What about you, Meghan?” Jackson asked. Meghan handed Jackson the blocker. She answered only with a shrug before she started throwing hard kicks and harder punches.

  Mr. Hodge stood in the middle of the ring. Although Josie was around the same weight as Meghan, Josie had a slight reach advantage. Long arms, Meghan knew, could easily be snatched into a submission. If she could Kimura someone stronger than her, like Shawn, then Josie should be easy pickings.

  “Three rounds of two minutes,” Mr. Hodge said. “Protect yourself at all times.”

  Meghan extended her glove, and Josie touched. They went to their corners to await the whistle. Everybody in the dojo sat on the mat and waited. Meghan sensed the anticipation in everyone but herself. She hadn’t mentally prepared for a hard spar.

  At the whistle, Meghan faked a kick and started to circle. She knew that Josie could dominate on strikes with her reach advantage, but if she had a jiu-jitsu background, she’d also be tough on the mat. Like with Shawn, the key was to cut her wind and force a mistake.

  Josie threw a hard right, but her left was weak and she didn’t try to throw any kicks. Meghan tried kicks to the body and legs, but Josie defended them well. Over and over, Josie tried to get Meghan to the mat. Meghan blocked every shot. With the round winding down, Josie got Meghan’s left leg elevated, but Meghan stayed balanced and wouldn’t go down. As the first round ended, neither fighter had scored a takedown or a solid strike, although Josie had pushed the action more.

  “You lost that round,” Mr. Hodge said to Megan during the break. “Are you going to work hard or not?”

  Meghan banged her gloves together and raced to the middle of the ring when the whistle blew. When Josie tried an overhand left, Meghan responded with a jab to the body and followed up with knees. Then she took Josie over with a sweeping hip throw. On the ground, Meghan tried to get position, but Josie’s long arms fought her off. Even though Meghan had the mount, Josie controlled with a closed guard. When Meghan felt Josie’s leg creep up her back into rubber guard to set up a submission, Meghan passed guard and regained her feet.

  Josie quickly stood, and they began exchanging strikes. Soon Mr. Hodge blew the whistle to end the round.

  “What’s your plan?” Mr. Hodge asked Meghan between rounds. Meghan took out her mouthpiece and swallowed some water. Mr. Hodge lowered his voice and looked her in the eyes. “If she’s stronger than you, then use your quickness. Get in, fire some body shots, and stay away from takedowns.” Meghan nodded. “You have the skills, so use them!”

  Meghan put in her mouthpiece and waited for the whistle. In the opposite corner, Mr. Matsuda was talking with Josie. Was he encouraging her or telling her Meghan’s flaws?

  To start the third round, Meghan exploded with a series of kicks to Josie’s legs, but Josie responded with a hard right. Another hard right to the side of the head buckled Meghan’s knees for a second. That was all it took. Josie swarmed Meghan and showered her with wild strikes: jabs, hooks, knees, and kicks. They came from every angle, too many defend against. It was happening both too fast to react and in slow motion. Just like the accident.

  Josie grabbed a clinch and executed a textbook judo throw. She got full mount position as Meghan fought to get half guard. Meghan stopped a hard right coming toward her jaw, but she couldn’t stop the left elbow strike that split her open just above the right eye.

  “That’s it!” Mr. Hodge shouted and waved his hands in the air. Before he raised Josie’s hand, he bent down to Meghan. Somebody threw a towel into the ring, and he handed it to her.

  Meghan wiped the blood and spit from her mouthpiece. “You okay?” Mr. Hodge asked.

  “I’m good,” Meghan answered and then looked up at Josie. “But she’s better, tonight.”

  “She was faster than you. I didn’t think that would be the case,” Mr. Hodge said. “Or maybe you were just moving in slow motion so everybody could watch you fight?”

  Meghan sat up, pressed the towel against her bloody forehead, and moved from Mr. Hodge toward Josie. She took the towel away and saw the red stain in the middle of the white fabric. She tasted the blood that had dripped into her mouth. So that’s what defeat tastes like, she thought. She looked up at Josie and saw the smile on her face. Meghan smiled along with her.

  “Enjoy it while you can,” Meghan said. “Because next time will be different.”

  Josie took out her mouthpiece. “What makes you think so?”

  Meghan couldn’t tell her the truth. The meds had begun diluting her fighting skills—she could tell she wasn’t thinking as fast on her feet. In a few weeks, she’d go to Hawaii with her uncle, get clean, get her mind right, and get her fight game back. It wasn’t even the sun, the ocean, or the food that she was looking forward to. It was the chance to get a few thousand miles away from her life and finally get off the wheel.

  “I’ll win,” Meghan said, trying to hide her smile, “because I’ve got nothing left to lose.”

  “I’m sorry.” Meghan stood in front of Latasha’s locker on the first day of school after winter break with a box of macadamia nuts in front of her. Her tan was already fading, along with the craving for pills. “You were only trying to help.”

  Latasha nodded. “And did I?” she asked as she took the box.

  “I think so. I went my entire vacation without, you know,” Meghan said. “And I stopped in the office this morning and I’m getting my locker changed, so that’s a small step.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Latasha said. “You want to take a bigger step?”

  “What?”

  “Join the basketball team again. We need you, bad,” Latasha said and laughed. “We lost every game of the holiday tournament. Nobody but me shot over fifty percent. It’s horrible.”

  “I can’t. I need to focus on my fighting,” Meghan said. “I have my first fight coming up right after we graduate, and I want you to be there.”

  “Will I finally get to meet all of your dojo friends?” Latasha asked.

  Meghan shrugged but said nothing. She kept her balance—and her secrets—by not mixing friends.

  “Seriously, think about coming back. I know you’re hurt, but I bet you could still shoot and rebound.” Meghan’s mom had coached them for hours on rebound positioning. It was one of the only skills Meghan still had on the court after her injuries from the accident.

  “Meghan!” Latasha shouted. “You zoned out. You’re sure you’re clean?”

  Meghan nodded, smiled, and then headed off toward the office. She took a path so she wouldn’t pass by her old locker, by Tommy, or by the little pills of Tommy’s that offered big temptation. She would see Miss Allison as well and let her view Meghan in an alert, non-Soma state.

  Meghan avoided the cafeteria and ignored Tommy’s texts throughout the morning, but she knew she had to confront her face-to-face at some point. They arranged to meet during lunch at a city park near school. Meghan cleaned the snow off the swings as she waited for Tommy.

  “What’s the story?” Tommy asked when she arrived. Meghan was already on the swings.

  Meghan waited until Tommy sat in the swing next to her. “I need to tell you something.”

  “I thought you already did by changing lockers. That’s a pretty clear message,” Tommy said.

  “I didn’t clear out everything. I left that picture
of the three of us.”

  “Four of us.” She paused. “Your mom really did mean a lot to me.” Tommy started to swing. Meghan joined. “What did I do to you, Meghan?”

  “It’s just that I need to change things in my life,” Meghan said slowly, unsure of what to say and how to say it. Finally she just said it. “I don’t think I can be friends with you anymore.”

  “Did your uncle tell you this on your big vacation in the sun, while I was stuck over here, freezing my butt off in Missouri? Or did you come to this realization elsewhere?”

  Meghan didn’t tell her the truth; she’d seen very little of the beach. Most of it was spent fighting off the effects of self-detox. She kicked her legs to swing higher. “No, this is my ­decision.”

  “So what did I do to you?” Tommy asked again.

  “I’m tired. I’m tired of needing pills to wake up, go to sleep, make me feel better or not feel anything. If we stay friends, share the same locker, it’s just too tempting. I’m not saying we can’t be friends ever again, but—”

  “We said that we’d—all three of us—we’d be friends forever. Remember?”

  “That was a long time ago. A lot has changed,” Meghan said softly.

  Tommy lit up a cigarette. “We said we’d win state titles every year, and then we’d get NCAA scholarships. And we’d tell the recruiters that we wanted to stay together.”

  “I have to move forward, Tommy. I have to let go of that.”

  Tommy blew a smoke ring that mixed with her frosty breath. “Fine. I don’t need you.” She got up off the swing. “But you need me, and you know it.”

  Meghan didn’t respond. Part of her wanted to leap off the swing at the highest point and land hard on the ground, maybe shattering her ankles again. It would be an excuse to get stronger pain pills from a doctor—how she’d gotten hooked in the first place. But instead she kicked to swing even faster and higher as she watched Tommy walk away.

  “I wanted to let you know, I’m feeling better,” Meghan told Miss Allison.