Currently working on this since my old hard drive decided to give out on me, which means Volatile Scene is on hold...again. *sigh* I need to get a technician to recover my files, but until then, here.
Five more minute. That's all there is left before the end of another school day. I chant these three words in my head as I gaze at the clock that hangs above the classroom door, observing the hands as they move. Etching the sound of the gears meshing into my brain.
My teacher, Miss Ross, strolls around the classroom, returning to us the test we took the other day. A mathematics test. When she reaches my seat, she slides my paper off the palm of her hand. Written on it in red ink, the score that I got. One hundred percent. Instead of being overjoyed, I stare at the score and the remarks blankly.
"Good job as always, Maria," Miss Ross comments, swelling with pride.
One of my classmates feigns a cough behind me, saying, "Teacher's pet." He repeats it in hopes of getting a reaction out of me. Two other kids join in the teasing, making the barking sound of a dog. Insulting me for being a dog. A wolf, actually.
My hand clenches into a fist and trembles. I have to remember that I am above senseless violence. As much as I want to swing this fist across their faces, as much as I want to make their mouths bleed, I can't. They are bigger than me, after all. Picking a fight with them, with the biggest tough guys of this school, is pretty much a death sentence. Well, not really, but it's unwise. And even if I could fight back, I won't do it. I won't risk people thinking of me lowly. Seeing me for what I am not.
At the sound of the school bell ringing, everyone in the classroom gets moving, shouting excitedly, shoving their belongings into their bags and darting out of here in the blink of an eye.
I am the last to go, as well as my three tormentors. They leave first, bumping their shoulders against me in succession, laughing. Books, stationery and my test paper come falling out of my backpack, and I pick them up and put them back in, fighting tears away. It does not work, and one squirms its way out of my right eyelids. And all the while, my teacher just sits there by her desk, reading her newspaper. Not even taking action.
With my things stowed away, I strap my backpack around my shoulders and take my leave. On my way out, my teacher looks at me and stops me in my tracks.
"Mary?" she asks, expressing her concern. Hesitantly I turn my head towards her. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," I lie, putting up a brave face. "I'm alright."
"I saw what just happened. You don't look alright." She approaches me and rubs the tear out of my eye. If she did see what happened with her own eyes, why didn't she do anything? I don't want her touching me.
"It's okay, Miss Ross. I'm fine," I say, my defenses failing. I need to leave now.
Speechless, my teacher tilts her head to the ground and looks at me again, her expression renewed. "Fine. If you say so."
I wrench my arm from her hands and take off. She calls out to me and stops me again, and I am getting fed up.
"Mary," says Miss Ross, her voice sounding across the hallway. "I want you to know that you can count on me. If you ever need anything, I will help you. It's just a matter of coming to me."
I continue on.
I walk amidst the flock of students hurriedly racing out, leaping into their parents' embrace. Running towards the cars picking them up. Amongst these cars is a white station wagon with a purple stripe along its body. Waiting inside the driver's seat is my father, waving his hand at me.
I enter the car and buckle up. My father Carter looks at me through the rearview mirror, and I force a smile at him, but ends up to be more of a grimace. Thankfully, he doesn't pick up on this.
"Hi, sweetie," he says. "Had a good day?"
"Yeah," I say, unenthusiastic.
The car drives off, tires squealing, engine bellowing. Dad starts gabbing about his work, like he always does. Making his stockbroker job seem like the most exciting job in the world, dramatizing how he burnt his tongue drinking his coffee on his lunch break, how his clients thought of him higly. Like some sort of superhero.
We pass through our regular route, and I look out my window to observe my surroundings to somehow force time to move faster, pretending to care about my father's stories. His exaggerations. Some of the people I see wave at me, as if it's going to lift my mood in some way.
Not much to note here. Just the same old buildings, the same old establishments I've seen so many times. The people on the streets are half and half familiar and unfamiliar. Eyelids growing heavy, I slump on my seat and drift off, yawning. I sit right back up upon catching sight of the one building that never bores me.
I lean my face and hand against the windowpane and stare at the Woo Foo dojo, the oldest building in town. Older than my parents, or whoever in town has lived the longest. Questions arise back and forth, left and right, in my head. How long has this thing been here? Don't the residents ever consider renovations? They don't have to make drastic changes, but would it hurt them to fix it up so that it doesn't look out of place?
At the front porch, I catch a glimpse of one of its residents: a young panda cub around my age, probably older by a slight margin. He's practicing, punching and kicking the air, pearls of sweat seeping from his pores. I've seen him before, him and his tiger guardians. For an ursine, he doesn't look too bad. In fact, he looks stunning, even with the film of sweat coating him. Scratch that, especially with the film of sweat coating him. Come to think of it, he's the only panda I've seen in miles.
Losing myself in his eyes, I begin to wonder about their condition. I wonder what it must be like for him and his guardians to live like this. As the butt of jokes in this town. There has to be more to Woo Foo than its ludicrous name. They have to have their reasons for preaching how great their martial art is on a dail basis.
"Mary?" starts my father. "What are you look—wait, you're not thinking of visiting that freak show, are you?"
The authority in his voice settles in me, and I pull away from the window.
Yes, I think, but I say to him, "Not really. No."
"You better not, young lady," says Dad. "Troublemakers, the lot of them. Not a decent bone in their body, I swear to God. I don't want you associating yourself with them. Okay?"
"Alright," I reply, looking back at the dojo.
Maybe this is just what I need…
Nothing out of the ordinary has happened today. There haven't been any reported incidents of crime or villainy in town, nor have there been any visitors in the dojo, so it's safe to say I can rest easy. And by rest easy, I mean spend an afternoon lounging around in the living room, stuffing my face with bags of potato chips and chugging down a bottle of soda while enjoying a few of my favorite television shows.
Once in a while, I look to the clock near the front door. I do so for the fifth time today. Four o'clock. Chai and Ti have been out of the dojo the whole day, probably running errands or trying to persuade the townsfolk into joining our society. I can't say. One thing's for sure, though. When they get home, they'll be livid to find that the place has turned into a dump.
Bored, I flip through the channels with the remote to find anything worth watching. I come across one of the local news networks and pause there, stunned at the story that's made the headlines. My masters are in front of Town Hall, where the authorities are pressing charges on them for disturbing the peace. They go into an argument, which ends poorly for Chai and Ti, who are handed a slip by the police officers. I cringe at the scene.
The news anchor, Bianca Murray, stifles a chuckle as she reports on the situation, going so far as to call them, calling us Woo Foo, loonies. Circus freaks.
"I just have to ask these people: where's the rest of your act?"
I grit my teeth at her commentary, turn the television off and slam the remote on the table, fuming. Flustered.
Breathing heavily, I close my hand into a fist and punch the floor, causing a hole in one of the tatami mats.
"Put a sock in it, Bianca," I utter through gritted teeth.
What does she know? What do they all know? Nothing, that's what. Idiots, the lot of them. How dare she? How dare they? Compare an art of combat to parlor tricks.
I relax my body and focus on my breathing. In and out. Inhale, exhale. My fit of rage has left me winded, but also with renewed purpose. A renewed drive to better myself. A drive to prove them wrong. All of them. Someday, somehow, they will see Woo Foo for what it is. They'll understand that it's more than what they make it out to be. More than just a form of fighting.
Getting back on my feet, I inspect the living room and pick my litter up, disposing of the bags and bottles. Focusing on my breathing as I go. I remember Chai and Ti telling me that the best place to start in being a Woo Foo warrior is how I conduct myself. How I present myself to the world. To make the best first impression I can, since I only get one chance at that.
By the time I am finished, the doors part to the side to make way for my tiger masters. They enter, dusting their feet on the doormat.
"Hey, guys. So how was your day?" I initiate, running to them, brimming with energy. Their only response is to pat me on the shoulder without even a sidegaze. Ti pats me on the head, and in his hands I feel the slip written by the officers earlier today.
Why did I even try?
Chai and Ti take a seat at the table, the former sitting on the table itself. I've never seen them so…downtrodden. It doesn't fit either of their sides. Not their serious side, not their fun side.
"Are we really just a joke to them? Are we nothing more than a big punchline?" asks Chai, her voice breaking. Placing her hands on her lap.
Ti stands from his spot and turns a chair over with a push of his hand, a gust shooting out of it – a Woo Foo wind spell. Only an initiated practitioner is capable of such a feat. The chair does not break, but suffers a chip on its surface. He clenches his teeth, restraining himself, fangs extending out of his mouth.
I am powerless to help them. I just watch them wallow in their disappointment. In their damaged pride.
There's a knocking on the doors. It draws a gasp from Chai and a groan from Ti.
"Could this day get any worse?" asks Ti, approaching the doors.
Quickly I hold him back, refusing to let the situation worsen. He pushes against me for a while, but relents. His heart pounds like a drum against my hand, his anger becoming my own on contact.
"You guys have done enough for today," I say, gingerly taking my hands off of my master's rugged chest, ensuring that he does not do something he'll regret. "Let me take care of this."
They look at me, eyebrows raised. I need them to trust me.
"Alright," says Ti, conceding.
The knocking continues, and I address it. To my surprise, it isn't a mob of people shouting at us to stop with our antics. We tend to get those, but no. Not this time. What we get tonight is a girl. A wolfling. Around my age, I'm betting. She stands at the entrance with her hands clamped together, swaying her body left and right, her ears erect from the sound of the sliding doors, her tail wagging aimlessly. Her eyes find mine, a pair of cerulean blue pools swimming in curiosity. Shimmering like a star. They're beautiful.
I've seen her pass by the sidewalk on occasion, usually from my room upstairs. She's always had a fascination for the dojo, taking a second or two–or five, maybe ten–to look at it. I've tried waving at her, but she'd just walk away without returning my gesture. Has she even ever noticed me?
Snapping out of my pondering, I clear my throat and take a step forward.
"Can I help you?" I ask, sounding as friendly as I can. After what I had just seen on television, the question ends up sounding bitter.
"Um, hi," says the girl, smiling. "Is this the Woo Foo dojo?"
"The one and only," I say, getting myself accustomed. Conduct myself in an appropriate manner. "So what brings you here?"
"Actually, I've been wondering," she answers, pausing to shift her head from side to side, like she isn't supposed to be here. She moves in, our faces almost touching, my chest thumping rapidly. "Are you accepting new students?"
Swallowing, I take one step back and process her query. I try to piece a sentence together, but…
"Well, erm," I attempt, the words hanging from my tongue and staying there. "I am. I mean, um…we are. Or, uh… I'll be right back."
Urgently, I search for Chai and Ti and find them still in the kitchen, helping themselves to some of the leftover noodles from the other night. I stop before them, leaning forward and heaving, hands on my knees. I don't bother to talk until I've calmed down.
Having gathered myself, I tell them, "You guys are not going to believe this." My words are sharp, enthusiastic. Chai and Ti just sit by and eat, unconvinced. I try again. "There's someone at the door I'd like you to meet." That does not work, either.
Or perhaps it does, since they both get up from their seats, albeit with reservation. The wolf girl has not left yet, tapping her feet on the floor as she waits.
My masters are elated upon seeing her.
Note: I could never figure out who between Chai and Ti is the brother and the sister. The show didn't seem to elaborate on that, just throw them there and expect us to figure it out for ourselves.