Live and Let Shop

by Michael P. Spradlin

  I managed to get the uniform on okay, but the white belt that went with it was hopeless. Pilar stepped over and showed me how to tie it. It looked complicated. It was really bugging me that I had to do this Tae Kwon Do thing. But it couldn’t be that hard could it?

  “Come on,” she said, and we headed out the door.

  We walked down a bunch more of those brightly painted corridors (this place seemed like it must be bigger than the Pentagon or something). The Academy residence halls were divided into boys’ and girls’ wings, with faculty and staff residences in the middle of the two wings, according to Pilar. I hadn’t seen any of the classrooms yet.

  Finally we entered a room that looked large enough to house a 747. The floor was completely covered with pads and all kinds of punching bags, and other padding hung in different places around the room. At one end of the room a huge American flag was draped on the wall, flanked by a Korean flag of identical size. On the opposite wall was a rack with a lot of long sticks and wooden swords. They looked like they would hurt.

  Mr. Kim sat cross-legged on the floor with his back to a line of students lined up down the center of the dojang. At the head of the line were two guys who looked about my age. One wore a black belt. The boy next to him was that Brent kid that Mr. Kim had introduced me to on the way to my room. He had a black stripe on his red belt. The rest of the line was made up of boys and girls of different sizes and ages, and they all had different-colored belts, starting with red after black, then blue, green, yellow, and white.

  Pilar whispered quietly to me, “You’ll need to line up at the end of the line, with the first gups, the white belts,” she said. And she went to the middle of the line with the other blue belts.

  I walked to the end of the line and stood next to a boy who looked like he was junior high school age. I towered over him. Everyone was quiet.

  Suddenly Mr. Kim sprang to his feet. It happened so fast I almost didn’t see it. One minute he was on the floor, back to us, and the next minute he was on his feet facing the line of students.

  “Ken yet!” he shouted.

  Everyone in the line bowed to him and came to attention. Except me. I just stood there like a lump.

  Mr. Kim walked over to me and smiled. “Class,” he said, “please welcome our newest student, Ms. Buchanan.”

  All the students said “kyun in sepsido” all at the same time.

  Mr. Kim smiled. “That means welcome in Korean,” he said.

  He stood in front of me and showed me how to come to attention. Feet together, back straight, arms by my side, extended at a slight angle.

  “All right. Mr. Scott, please warm up the class,” he said.

  The black-belt guy bowed and then walked to where Mr. Kim had been sitting. He turned to the class and shouted, “Jumping jacks!” He started counting in Korean and doing the jumping jacks. Mr. Kim looked at me, and I began a halfhearted attempt at following along. Mostly doing the jumping without the jack.

  We quickly went on to push-ups and a series of stretches. After the push-ups I was sweating and my legs and arms were quivering. Finally the exercises stopped and Mr. Scott gave instructions for the class to break up into groups by rank and work on “self-defense.” Great. More gym.

  “Come with me, Ms. Buchanan,” Mr. Kim said.

  He walked with me across the do jang to where Mr. Scott stood watching some younger students pretend-punch each other. Mr. Scott was tall, over six feet, and his blond hair was cut short and close to his scalp. He was definitely ripped. Now that I could see him up close, I could see that he was maybe sixteen or seventeen. And he wasn’t bad to look at.

  He said something in what must have been Korean, and they stopped what they were doing. “Try it like this,” he said.

  He stepped onto the mat and the three lower belts formed a triangle around him. One of them held a small wooden club about two feet long. He came at Mr. Scott with an overhead swing. At about half speed Mr. Scott blocked the downward arc of the club and twisted the blue belt’s arm behind his back. While he moved he carefully explained each technique to the students. He softly kicked the back of his attacker’s knee and the blue belt dropped to the ground, losing the club in the process. Mr. Scott whisked the club away with a flick of his foot as the other two blue belts descended on him. He took out one blue belt with a pretend kick to the stomach and the third one with some kind of fancy spin-around kick that, had he been going full steam, would have taken out the guy’s legs. Amazingly, even though it was a demonstration, he seemed to move really fast. He straightened his do bak and addressed the students.

  “Remember, the attacker with the weapon is the first priority. Also, if you can, once you have disarmed the attacker, either use the weapon yourself or kick it away. Don’t let one of the others grab it and get a chance to use it on you again.”

  Mr. Scott gave them another command in Korean and they returned to their exercise.

  He turned as we approached and bowed, which Mr. Kim returned.

  “Mr. Alex Scott, this is Ms. Buchanan,” he said. The guy turned and bowed in my direction. I kind of nodded and said, “Hey, how’s it goin’?”

  “You must return the bow,” Mr. Kim said. He showed me how to cross my arms in front of me and bow. It took me about four times to get it right. I noticed Mr. Scott had a smirk on his face as he watched me.

  “What’s so funny, muscle head?” I glared at him.

  “Ms. Buchanan,” Mr. Kim said quietly, “in the do jang, during class, or in competition we address each other as ‘Mr.’ or ‘Ms.’, not ‘muscle head.’ When you address me or Mr. Torres, whom you will meet tomorrow, you address us as ‘Master.’”

  “Why?” Like that was going to happen. Me call somebody master? Keep dreaming, Mr. Kim.

  Mr. Scott spoke up. “Master Kim, may I?” Mr. Kim nodded.

  Alex looked at me and bowed again. “Master Kim is a ninth Dan in the art of Tae Kwon Do. It is the highest rank that can be achieved in the art and takes years to earn. Mr. Torres is a fifth Dan. When a student earns the rank of fourth Dan, they earn the right to be called Master. Each Dan, or rank, is noted on the uniform, by the stripes on the do bak. I am a second Dan black belt.”

  I looked at Mr. Kim’s uniform and noticed the difference. Mr. Scott’s black belt looked relatively new and stiff compared to Mr. Kim’s, which was faded and looked like it had been through the wash a few times. Mr. Kim’s uniform top was hemmed with black stripes, and there were several thin black stripes running down his pant legs. Alex’s do bak had only a single black stripe running down the pant leg.

  “Oh,” I said. I was the queen of the witty comeback, after all.

  “Mr. Scott, please begin Ms. Buchanan’s study of the first pattern.”

  They bowed to each other, and Mr. Kim turned to another group of students.

  “Follow me,” Alex said.

  We went over to a fairly deserted corner of the room and Mr. Scott began introducing me to the art of Tae Kwon Do. First I had to learn a “sound-off,” which gave the history and meaning of the first pattern. Learning stuff by memory is pretty easy for me. There was a lot of stuff in the sound-off about kings and dynasties and Buddhist monks. It took only a few times through the sound-off, before I had memorized all the words. But the physical part was impossible. There were too many movements, and Mr. Scott kept stopping me and showing me how to do it correctly. Once when I fell sprawling to the mat he couldn’t stifle a chuckle.

  “You think this is funny?” I snapped.

  “Honestly, yeah. You were kind of all over the place on that one. But don’t worry, you’ll catch on.” He was totally giving me attitude. I was about to let him have it, but I noticed that his eyes, which were a steel-gray color, were kind of laughing too, and I momentarily forgot my witty retort. Did I mention he was devastatingly cute?

  But I couldn’t get the moves at all. Just when I felt like I was about to cry, Mr. Kim shouted another command and the class stopped. Everyone bowed to one
another and went back to the line the class started in. I stood at the end again. Mr. Kim said a bunch of other stuff, the class turned to face the flags on the wall, and everybody recited the Student Oath of Tae Kwon Do: “Courtesy. Integrity. Perseverance. Self-control. Indomitable Spirit.” All of which are qualities that I don’t possess, by the way.

  “Class dismissed. Ms. Buchanan, a moment, please,” Mr. Kim said.

  As the students filed out, Mr. Kim came over to where I stood.

  “I will have some study material brought to your room. Do not be discouraged. Tae Kwon Do is a difficult and challenging art. But the rewards it offers are immense. You had a good first class. It will get easier each time.”

  “I can’t do this,” I said. “I’m no good at gym stuff. Isn’t there something else I can do instead?”

  Mr. Kim smiled and bowed his head for a moment.

  “Ms. Buchanan. Look at all that you’ve accomplished in the last twenty-four hours. You’ve left your home and flown across the country, matched wits with Mrs. Marquardt, enrolled in a new school, met a new roommate, and finished a first class in what is a difficult and very challenging physical discipline. You have a great deal to be proud of. You must give yourself credit.”

  “But I can’t do it. It’s too complicated. I am a thinker, not a doer.” Yeah, it was definitely my great thinking that got me here in the first place.

  “You are right. As I have said, you have an agile mind. That is why you will easily master Tae Kwon Do. Tae Kwon Do is all about thinking. Doing comes second. Think first and you will become a fine martial artist.”

  I was exhausted and (for once) tired of talking. The more I was around Mr. Kim, the more it became apparent that he had an answer for everything. I wanted out of here. I missed Boozer and Jamie and Grego—heck, I was even starting to miss Charles and Cynthia. At least they didn’t make me do gym. I hated this place. I wanted to go home. But I had nothing left to say. So I just turned and walked away, leaving Mr. Kim standing alone in the do jang.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The First Train Out of Here

  I got lost twice trying to find my way back to my room. I was now convinced this place had to be bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside. There were corridors and hallways all over the place. Finally I figured out that the corridors were all color-coded. There was a yellow corridor leading away from the do jang in one direction, which must be where the classrooms were. Then there was a blue corridor that led back to the atrium and the offices, which led to the rust and mauve corridors that went to the boys’ and girls’ wings.

  Pilar was at her desk again when I finally got back.

  “Do you want to go to the cafeteria for dinner?” she asked.

  “No. Thanks.” What I felt like doing was running away.

  Pilar just looked at me. On the one hand, I felt kind of bad about what I’d said to her before. She seemed okay. But on the other hand, she kept staring at me all the time when she thought I wasn’t looking. Like I was a bug she wanted to dissect or something. It was mega-creepy. She started to the door of the room and then stopped.

  “Are you sure? I think you should take a shower and then come to the cafeteria with me. Have dinner. Meet some of the other students. What can it hurt?”

  “Thanks. Really. But I’m not hungry.” She stood there staring at me again. It was starting to creep me out. “Look, I’m really tired and I’ve had a long day. Do you think you could can the staring act?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re right, it’s rude of me. But I can’t tell you how strong this feeling is that I know you somehow.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t care. I don’t know you. You don’t know me. We’ve established that I’ve never been to Detroit and you’ve never been to BH. So why don’t you give it a rest?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said again. She gave an embarrassed shrug and left the room.

  I went into the bedroom and took my duffel bag out of the closet. I threw in some of my clothes and the $200 in cash that I had stuck in one of my socks. I grabbed my laptop and stuffed it in the duffel bag. I changed clothes and threw the do bak in the closet. I was getting out of here. A whole year of this? It just wasn’t worth it.

  Maybe I could get a bus ticket back to California and crash at Boozer’s for a while. Boozer lived with his dad, who was gone on business all the time. No one would find me there. And even if they did, I didn’t care. Judge Tightass could send me to Juvie, for all I cared. At least I wouldn’t have to make a fool of myself doing stupid martial arts. I shoved the duffel bag under my bunk.

  Pilar came back from dinner about forty-five minutes later. I had to come up with a plan to get out of here, but first I needed information. But I had to be careful. I didn’t want her squealing on me.

  “So, Pilar, what do you do around here at night?”

  “Study,” she said. “Classes are tough, and I’ve got to really buckle down.”

  “Ha. Really? You don’t hang out at the mall or anything?”

  “We’re in the middle of nowhere, and there isn’t a mall for miles. How would we go to a mall?” It wasn’t like she was being snippy or anything. It was just like the idea of going to the mall had never occurred to her.

  “Okay. I was just asking. Isn’t there a rec room or someplace with a TV?”

  “There is a rec room in Yellow corridor with Ping-Pong and stuff, but no TV. Mr. Kim is not a fan of TV.”

  I knew I didn’t like him.

  “What if I want to go for a walk or something?”

  “You can walk around the grounds. Sometimes we go outside and run on the track or play softball or touch football on the athletic fields.”

  Great. More gym. Who were these people?

  Pilar looked at me again for a few seconds, and then she said something that gave me the chills.

  “Listen,” Pilar said. “I’m not stupid. I know what kind of walk you’re thinking about. Almost everybody goes for a walk within the first couple of days here.” When she said “walk,” of course she made the little “air quote” sign. I wanted to scream and run. “But it’s better for you if you don’t try it.”

  “Try what?” I said, not believing that she could figure me out that easily.

  “Running away. It’s not a good idea.”

  “I’m not running away.”

  “Sure you are. Everyone tries it when they first get here. But you can’t get past the guardhouse at the front gate. You’re not in good enough shape to make it over the fence around the front of the school, and as for the woods, well, they’re thick and confusing and you don’t want to try them at night.”

  Not in good enough shape? Ouch.

  “Look,” I said. “I don’t know what you think you know about me. But I was just trying to make conversation. You know, learn about this place. I don’t know where you got this ‘me running away’ drama.” Of course, none of that was even remotely true. My desire to get out of there must have been plastered on my face, because she had me pegged.

  “Okay. Whatever.” She turned her back to me, sat down at her desk, and opened a book.

  I went into the bedroom and crawled into my bunk. She couldn’t have known what I was thinking. And that creepy, staring-at-me thing, like she knew me. Maybe Mr. Kim roomed me with her on purpose, to teach me a lesson. Maybe this school was really like Juvie and she was going to beat me up in my sleep or something. That sealed it. I was definitely getting out of here. But I had to wait for her to go to sleep.

  I was tired and it was hard to stay awake, but I was determined. Finally, after what seemed like several hours of studying, Pilar came into the room, changed into pajamas, and got into bed.

  I pretended to be sleeping. I heard her tossing and turning a little bit, and then after a while she seemed to settle down and I could hear her breathing even out and get deeper. She started to mutter a little in her sleep. I waited several more minutes, as she continued to breathe and mutter and mumble. I was pretty sure she w
as asleep. I sat up and put my feet on the floor.

  “Good luck, Rachel,” she said all at once, clear as day. I froze in place.

  Good luck? Had she heard me? Was she just being a smart-ass? Or was she some kind of psychic? My skin was crawling with goose bumps. I sat completely still and waited. She kept muttering strange-sounding words and phrases that didn’t make any sense. I waited long enough to know that she had to be sleeping. Creepy.

  I quickly got up off the bed, grabbed my duffel, and crept to the door. I very carefully pulled it open and stepped through into the hallway. Everything was quiet. So far, so good.

  I headed down the hallway toward the shower room. I figured that there wouldn’t be any alarms or motion detectors in the main hallway here, in case people needed to use the bathroom during the night. But once I moved out into the connecting hallway I was going to have to be careful. There were probably all kinds of alarms and motion detectors and stuff. The place was full of juvenile delinquents, after all.

  The lights in the hall were low for nighttime. When I reached the end of the hall, I stopped. I reached into the duffel bag and pulled out my bottle of Nivea Bath Powder. I had seen this trick in the movie Entrapment, with Catherine Zeta-Jones. I squirted a big puff of powder up and down out into the hallway. If there were motion detectors or sensors, the electronic beams would be illuminated in the powder.

  That’s funny. Nothing. I was surprised. Maybe they used invisible beams. But if a beam was invisible then it really wasn’t a beam, was it? Did they have something more sophisticated? Only one way to find out.

  I turned into the hallway. Nothing happened. No shrieking alarms. No Doberman pinschers came barreling out of nowhere. Weird. This wasn’t much of a jail so far. I headed quickly down the hallway.

  The academy was so danged big, I got lost about three times. But I had a general sense of where the atrium was, and eventually, after a couple of wrong turns, I found it. It was deserted. I went to the main door and looked out at the front gate of the school. Dang! There was a security guard in the guardhouse. It must be manned around the clock. I was going to have to find another way out.