"Hey, hey, you wanna hear a knock-knock joke?" Jerry eagerly asked.

"Not really," I replied and Milton said, "Do I have to?" We were walking down the school's hallways, trying to kill some time before the bell rang.

Jerry turned to Kim with a wide smile. "What about you, Kim? You want to hear my joke?"

She rolled her eyes and examined one of her nails. "Sure, let's hear it."

"Why can't you give Elsa a balloon?" Kim coughed, pretending that she wasn't laughing at him. Milton and I exchanged exasperated glances

"Jerry, that's not a knock-knock joke…."

"Answer my question! Why can't you give El–"

"I don't know," she interrupted.

"'Cause she'll Let it Go!" he said enthusiastically.

"Good one, Jerr," I said clapping his shoulder. He frowned and ran a hand through his hair.

"You're right. That wasn't a knock-knock joke," he said, finally realizing his mistake. "These exams are really getting to me, guys."

Kim laughed and patted his arm. "The pressure's getting to everyone. But our last one is in…" She checked the clock above us. "…fifteen minutes. Then we're free for two and a half months. I'm gonna grab something from the cafeteria. Anyone want to come?"

"I have some last minute studying for chemistry. I can't remember any gas laws," I said dramatically. I caught Milton's attention and he offered to help me for the remainder of our break period.

"Uh, let's see. What do I have next? Spanish. Hm, I'll take a rain check, Kim. My grades can't take any more hits." Jerry replied.

"You're bilingual, Jerry," she said. He lifted an eyebrow at her.

"Huh?"

"You're fluent in Spanish. How can you have a bad grade?"

"Just 'cause I can speak it does not mean I can read it!" he defended.

Kim sighed and purses her lips. "Fine. Guess I'll see you all at the dojo later."

I rummaged through my bag and pulled out my chemistry textbook. "So... does pressure increase with volume or temperature?" I asked turning to Milton.


We're all hanging out at the dojo, waiting for Rudy to start practice. When he didn't show up after ten minutes, I started us on basic techniques and then whatever else we had to work on. There was a competition next weekend that we were hosting. We might not have been the best martial artists, but we weren't going to make complete fools of ourselves.

Kim and I were practicing hand sparring when she suddenly stopped causing me to hit her with an outer knife-hand strike. "Sorry!" I quickly said. "In my defense, you can't just stop and not block my attack."

She rubbed her throat and laughed. "It's fine. I was just thinking, if foot sparring is our worst area, shouldn't we practice that instead?"

"Well, I'm pretty good at sparring," I said with a smirk. She stuck her tongue out at me.

"I wasn't talking about you. Or myself–" she tossed a long braid of blond hair over her shoulder. "I meant them." She nodded her head towards Jerry and Milton who were going through their patterns and basic self-defense moves.

"Yeah, you're right."

"I know," she said matter-of-factly.

"Hey, Jerry, let's spar," I said. We put our gear on, tied our chest protectors, and bowed in. I stepped back into a sparring stance, shifting my weight to the balls of my feet, ready for Jerry to attack. He jumped forward with a turning kick. I blocked it and sent a kick to his stomach, followed by a punch and head kick. We went back and forth for a minute or two, and I tried to give him feedback through the mouth guard that was stuffed in my mouth.

Kim loudly interrupted. "Jack, in Milton's pattern, are you supposed to recover your left or right foot?" I dodged a sidekick and looked over at them. My concentration wandered as I thought about her question.

"I think it's–" My leg collapsed underneath me with a crack, and I fell forward toward the ground. Not realizing that my attention had shifted, he had moved in for a pressing kick.

"Shit. I'm sorry, man. You okay?" he asked and reached down with his hand.

"Yeah, sorry. I wasn't paying attention." I took his hand and he pulled me back on my feet. When my foot touched the ground, a wave of pain washed over me. Black dots jumped in my vision, making it was hard to see. I thought that only happened in overdramatic movies. I inhaled sharply and grabbed Jerry's shoulder to stop from falling over.

He peered into my face. "Are you sure? You look really… You don't look good," he said anxiously.

"Well!" I heard Milton snap. "You don't look well." His voice sounded distant; it became harder to breathe as the pain in my leg began to pulse intensely. My hands let go of Jerry's shoulders as I tried to gently drop myself to the ground. Some of the pain subsided when I was no longer putting weight on it, but there was still a sharp ache cutting through my knee.

Someone called my name, but I couldn't tell who. I just needed some air. After a couple of deep breaths, my head stopped swimming and I could focus on my friends around me. I was leaning against a pile of mats that they must of pushed forward. "Jack? Are you alright?"

"Yeah," I mumbled. I cleared my throat and adjusted my position. "I'm fine. That was...weird." I glanced up at them with a tight smiled. Kim sat down next to me.

"I grabbed some ice, if you need it," she said. When did she leave to get ice? The dizzy spell lasted less that a minute. I watched as the sleeve of her uniform brushed my ankle. I could feel the cold ice on my knee, numbing it. It made the throbbing die down enough for me to think a more clearly. "I'm fine," I repeated. "It's probably just a little swollen." I rolled up my pant leg above my knee. I blanched at the sight of it.

There was a lump -which I assumed was my patella- pushed to the inside of my leg where it definitely should not have been. All around it was swollen and painful. I'd never felt so much pain in my life. I pushed my leg forward, in an effort to reduce some of the pressure. With a sickening pop the bone moved back into the center where it should have been.

I looked up at my friends. I needed them to say something to keep the panic at bay, but Milton was swaying slightly and Kim was completely frozen. Jerry's face was a grey sheet, but he reached for his phone on a mat behind me. He waved it around and cleared his throat. "Uh, should we call 911 or…" he trailed off.

Milton steadied himself, using Jerry's words as a distraction from the grotesque position of my leg. "We could just drive there. My parents gave me the car for the day," he suggested. "It would be faster."

And then I was standing again, but I don't remember getting up. Milton was holding the dojo door open, and I realized with a jolt that my arms were wrapped around Jerry's and Kim's shoulders. How...? My mind filled in gaps between hazy memories -I must have stood up, we're going to the hospital- and then it was yanked out as I remembered the pain in my leg. It felt like some had a hammer and was pounding on my leg.

It took longer than I would have liked to get to Milton's car. Every time my good leg landed on the ground, some of the impact went through my bad leg sending another nauseating tremble through my body. I winced with every step-hop. The Krupnicks' black Subaru was only a few meters away, but the pain had intensified. I didn't think it could get much worse, but now it was unbearable. Maybe adrenaline had worn out, or the shock of my leg being outrageously dislocated, or maybe the sun was too bright, I don't know. I just couldn't take any more of it. Was I hyperventilating?

I swallowed hard as I forced myself to step-hop forward one more time. My good leg buckled underneath my weight, and I was thankful for Kim's reflexes as she grabbed my forearm to keep me upright. "Are you okay?" She asked. I screwed my eyes shut.

No. No, I'm not. I can't feel my foot and I feel like my leg is going to fall off.

I wanted to scream. Instead, I swallowed my words and nodded. My eyes opened and squinted in the sun. "We're almost there," she said, trying to encourage me. I nodded again. Gritting my teeth, I hopped forward. My stomach turned and I could feel the burning sensation of bile in the back of my throat. I was sure I was gonna throw up. Jerry and Kim were the only reason I was still upright and not passed out.

We made it a couple more paces when Jerry gently said, "Stop." I gasped for air, not realizing I was holding my breath."…go any further…" I heard. They were talking quietly as if they didn't want me to hear. "...pass out…" I caught pieces of their discussion. Suddenly Milton pulled right up near us and I don't remember him leaving to go get the car.

Aftee that, my memory gets even worse as I continued to float between conscious and unconscious. I know Kim and Milton were arguing about which hospital to go to, and I think I responded with, "I don't fucking care." We ended up at Seaford Memorial, and I had x-rays taken before I was given ibuprofen and my swollen leg was wrapped in bandages. My mom came in frantically, cupping my cheek and asking me over and over again if I was okay. We waited for an hour or so until the gang decided that they should be getting home. Milton drove them all home leaving me with my mom.

I wanted to go home and sleep as I listened to my mom's conversation with the doctor. I caught them mentioning torn ligaments, CAT scans, and no karate. It didn't occur to me that that meant no karate tournament. They gave her a prescription of Vicodin to help with the pain, and I shuffled out of the ER.

Not having the energy to move upstairs, I slept on the couch that night.


I woke up to the sound of my phone vibrating on the floor. With a small percentage of battery left, my friends had been frantically texting me. The bright screen assaulted my eyes as I squinted to read. I sent a short, "I'm fine." I dropped it loudly on the floor, and tried to fall back asleep, but the sharp pain hitting my leg kept me awake.

"Jack? Are you up?" My mom asked, walking into the living room. I nodded slowly.

"Yes, and I need drugs…" I mumbled. She scoffed and hadded some small pills to me.

"That's not funny," she said with a disapproving smile. "Do you want breakfast?"

"Mmm, waffles please," I looked at her through heavy eyelids.

"Like the frozen kind?"

"Like the homemade kind 'cause you love me so much." She watched me with an exasperated look. "Please," I begged. "Poor me, I was in the ER until ten o'clock last night."

"Poor you," she mocked. "And you're poor mother who's forced to pay those expensive medical bills." I smiled sheepishly.

"I would make them, but doctor's orders. Gotta stay in bed." I gestured to my splinted leg. It was wrapped tightly still, which means the swelling hadn't gone down yet. How much damage had I done? My stomach contorted in a nervous way. I'd still be able to do Karate, right?

"Okay," Mom said throwing up her hands. "I'll make you some stupid waffles, but the doctor did not tell you to stay in bed all day."

"Love you," I mumbled. I started to digress back into my fearful thoughts until my phone chimed. I glanced at the text that Milton had sent to the group chat.

"When you Google 'dislocated knee' it says your supposed to do everything we didn't do."

And then Kim responded:

"Like what?"

"Call an ambulance, don't walk on it."

Then Jerry joined in:

"Oops."

I typed back,

"Yeah, thanks. That wasn't too painful or anything."

Jerry: Jack!

Milton: Are you coming to class later?

Me: No, I can't walk. :(

They sent more texts, but my mind wandered from our conversation when my mom poked her head around the corner. "Waffles are done." I scrolled to the end of our messages.

Kim: Will you be able to compete this weekend?

Milton: He probably can't. It takes like six weeks to heal.

Kim: Ugh, this sucks.

Jerry: Jack, are you still here?

Milton: Jack?

Kim: Jackie, where are you?

Me: Yeah, sorry. I gotta go eat my waffles.

Jerry: At least you have your priorities straight.

I laughed at Jerry's text. Waffles should always be at the top of someone's priorities, and I was not gonna let a busted knee stop me from eating them. I dropped my phone on the couch and stood up on my good leg, grabbing for my crutches. I glared at the metal sticks. I hated being dependent on them. I hobbled into the kitchen, almost tripping over Axel, my puppy, and landed heavily at our small table. I rested my head on the table as my mom moved around the kitchen with ease. She put a hand on my back, also placing a plate of waffles on the table. "If you're tired, why did you get up?"

"Because I was hungry." She sighed.

"You're always hungry, Jacks."

"I'm a growing boy," I said indifferently.

She put a plate in front of along with a glass of water. "Do you need anything else before I go?"

"No," I said slowly. "I thought you were gonna eat with me."

Mom looked at the clock tiredly. "I'm sorry, Jacks. I have to work and I'm already late." I frowned, pushing the waffle around in a pool of maple syrup. She sighed again. "If you eat quickly I can drop you off at the Dojo or Jerry's house." I shook my head.

"I'll stay here." I didn't want to make her even later for work. She looked at me quizzically as if she was asking, "Are you sure?"

"I'll be fine, Mom. I have Axel to keep me company," I said as I leaned over and rubbed his head.

"Okay, I'll have Marie come over to let Axel out, and our neighbors are home so-"

"Nothing's gonna happen, alright? I'm seventeen. Just go. I'm fine."

"Don't take any more medicine, either. You should be fine for a couple hours-"

"Mom. I've got it." She nodded a couple times to convince herself that I could, in fact, take care of myself. What a crazy concept.

"Text me if you need anything."

"Okay." She gave my shoulder a squeeze and grabbed her coat. The door slammed shut behind her and silence fell over the room. I was already bored, and realized that today was going to be very long.

I grabbed a box of crackers and filled a water bottle up, and did my awkward walk with only one crutch back to the couch. I spent most of the day watching movies until Marie came over to bring Axel for a walk. She didn't hesitate to have a long conversation with me about how sorry she was about my leg. Sometimes talking to elders can be so frustrating. I didn't want to have a pity party, but she was very intent on keeping our awkward conversation going. I felt a little bad though. She had just lost her husband and was probably really lonely.

When she finally left, I accidentally hit my phone, and it dropped to the floor sliding too far for me to pick it back up. I glared at it and then scanned the tv for the next movie to watch. By late afternoon, my stomach was grumbling and my water bottle was empty. I stood up to get something to eat, but immediately I was greeted by an all too familiar pain. I gritted my teeth before falling back onto the couch. Screw being independent; it wasn't worth the discomfort. I let out an annoyed breath, grabbed the blanket from last night and shut my eyes.

I woke up to Axel barking and the front door banging open. I twisted my stiff body around meeting my mom's eyes. "How was your day?" she asked.

"Exciting," I said sarcastically. "How was yours?"

"Full of catheters!" I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

"I'd rather die than have a catheter." My mom started laughing.

"No, you wouldn't. Are you going to the Dojo today? Class stats in an hour."

I shrugged, glancing at my leg. "It's not like I can do anything."

She smiled at me sympathetically. "You could see your friends."

"I'll go tomorrow." Mom looked at me for another minute with concern, and then left to change out of her work clothes.


I dragged a piece of spaghetti around my bowl. I should have been hungry after not having lunch, but I couldn't find my appetite, like it had been taken from me. It felt like a lot of my things had been stolen. I didn't have the freedom to walk around; I couldn't go to karate; hell, I couldn't even sleep the way I wanted. I just wished I had someone to blame.

"Jack," Mom said waving her hand in front of my face.

"Hmm?" I asked, dropping my fork. It hit my bowl and then clattered to the floor. Axel eagerly bounded over and started licking it. "No, leave it," I muttered, trying to push him off. I winced as I leaned over. The painkillers had completely worn off. I couldn't reach my stupid fork, and I clenched my jaw as Mom swept it off the floor gracefully, dumped it in the sink, and grabbed a clean one. I continued picking at my dinner. How the hell was I supposed to survive six weeks without my leg?

"Jackson."

"Sorry, what?" I asked propping my chin on my hand.

"I asked if you had told your father about your tournament next weekend. We need to tell him you won't be competing." If only I could walk away from this conversation about Dad.

"Yeah, I called him, and he said that he had to check if he could make it. I dunno if he was planning on coming." What a joke. The last time I saw Dad, I was graduating eighth grade. And that was before the divorce. He didn't bother showing up to any of my karate competitions since Mom and I moved to Seaford.

"I'll talk to him. And you better stop treating me like the enemy. I didn't break your leg," she reprimanded.

"Sorry." A knot grew in my stomach, as I grew angry at Jerry. Mom was right; she didn't break my leg, but Jerry did. If he had realized that I stopped sparring to answer Kim's question, if he was smart enough to know you never did a pressing kick to someone's knee, I would be able to compete. And yet, I was the one with a splinted leg while he was out training for the weekend. It wasn't fair.

I'm brought back to reality, by Mom's hand on my shoulder. "Eat your dinner, Jacks, and then I think it's time for you to get some actual sleep upstairs."

"I'm not five, Mom. I don't need to go to bed at six o'clock."

"But your attitude says you do," she said with a knowing look. "Plus you look exhausted." I pushed my bowl back.

"Okay, but I'm not sure I'll make it up the stairs."


I woke up the next day, my eyes heavy as if I hadn't slept at all. I realized that I was missing a pillow, and then looking at my closet, I remembered that at one in the morning, out of frustration for not being able to stay asleep, I had thrown it across the room.

I hobbled down the stairs and noticed my phone still lying on the ground. The little screen kept lighting up as my phone received texts. I ignored it, and scrounged through the kitchen cupboards for breakfast.

My day progressed the same as yesterday: movies and sleeping. My phone kept ringing. I had looked through their messages briefly. Most of them were jokes passed between my friends, but some were asking when they would see me. Kim threatened to drag me out of my house.

It wasn't that I was ignoring them, specifically. My stomach was heavy with dread like sludge in the bottom of a lake at the thought of going to the dojo. Was it post traumatic stress? I knew it was over dramatic, that breaking my leg wasn't going to scare me enough to leave the dojo, but there was something that made me wish I could stay curled up on this couch all summer.

That afternoon I got chastised by Mom because I was being lazy and didn't do anything again. I shrugged it off and picked at my dinner again. I retired to my room early.

Sunday went the same way. Mom worked, my phone buzzed relentlessly, I watched The Little Mermaid. At least when Mom came home around noon, she couldn't yell at me because the dojo was closed on Sundays.


And then when I was ready to start Tarzan on Monday, there was a knock at the door.

Of course it was Kim, Jerry, and Milton.

I pulled my blanket over my head in a desperate attempt to hide. It just resulted in someone pulling it completely off. I watched as it piled itself on top of my phone. Then I twisted to glare at the callous person. I was surprised to find that my leg was painless even though I hadn't taken any medication.

My eyes found Kim's annoyed face. "Get up, lazy."

With a huff, I pushed myself up and faced my friends. "You're interrupting my Tarzan."

"You've been ignoring us, Jack," Jerry pointed out.

I disagreed. "No, I've been resting."

"Sure," Kim said, rolling her eyes and pretending she agreed. "But now 'resting' time is over and we're dragging you outside."

I sighed softly as I turned away from them. "It's not like I can do anything." We had plans to go to the beach and amusement parks. To train a lot over the summer and help Jerry and Milton progress more. I couldn't do that anymore. My summer was looking pretty bleak; I didn't want to drag theirs down, too.

"C'mon," Kim said, pulling my arm up. "We'll go see a movie in the theatre."

I opened my mouth to protest when Mom shouted through the wall, "You're not sitting on your ass for the next six weeks, Jack! Get some fresh air."

They were starting to get on my nerves. It was so much easier if they'd leave me alone, and once I could walk, I'd hang out at the dojo or Phil's with them again. But I knew Mom was getting pissed at me, so I grudgingly peeled myself away from the couch. "Fine. What movie are we watching?"

"Zompires II just came out," Jerry put in eagerly. Kim and Milom nodded in tacit agreement.

"But first, Jack," Kim said, scrunching her nose in disgust. "You need to take a shower."

Showering with a screwed up knee, as it turned out, was a feat that was far too complicated to explain. Imagine doing yoga in the shower. And then add pain.

It sucked.


Zompires II, on the other hand, did not suck. I managed to stay awake instead of dreaming about my friends turning into Zompires, and afterward we went to Phil's and hung out. It wasn't until they asked if I was going to the dojo on Tuesday, that the mood turned sour.

"I dunno," I told them as I played with the salt and pepper shaker. Milton grabbed it out of my hands. I could feel them staring at me, and I looked up at them. "What?"

"Stop sulking around. It's no fun for us, man," Jerry said.

"Jack, we know you're upset because you can't compete, but the rest of us still are. We need your help to get ready. We want your help." Kim was looking at me expectantly. A sigh escaped my lips, and I slumped in my seat.

She was right. It wasn't that I was afraid of going back to the dojo, like I had thought. I was disappointed that I could no longer compete next weekend. No, it was more than that. I had worked so hard to get where I was in karate. The past few months had been only school and karate. I had to do well at the tournament in case there were scouts. In case my father decided he was done being a deadbeat. Now all that hard work was for nothing. I wouldn't impress any scouts; I wouldn't get a scholarship. Dad would fail to be there again. But looking at my friends' eager faces, I couldn't leave Kim to help Milton and Jerry.

"Fine. I'll help."

They all smiled, happy that they'd gotten their way. Jerry brought a fist to his palm and said, "Wasabi!" I rolled my eyes. This was why they dragged me to the movie. "You tricked me, didn't you?"

"What?" Jerry asked, as his voice climbs several octaves.

I said, "You tried to get me in a good mood, so I would agree to help you." They dropped their eyes to the table. I shook my head. "Unbelievable."

"You'll still help, right?"

I waited a long minute to draw out the suspense. Then I smiled and watched them relax. "Oh, thank God," Milton sighed. "I'm so bad at patterns."

We fell back into an easy conversation, poking fun at each other and being unnecessarily loud until Phil kicked us out for "disrupting the room's mojo."

Walking (in my case limping as l finally ditched the crutches ) side by side through the strip mall, we threw out ideas we could do. Most of them involved two fully functioning legs, so they were out. Finally we just decided to hang out at Jerry's.


Two nights before the competition, I was texting Kim (What's the difference between between a dirty bus station and a lobster with breast implants?) when Mom slammed the phone back into its cradle. I looked up and watched her stomp into the living room. "Your father," she spit out, "won't answer his goddamn phone."

"Why were you calling him?" Mom always tried to stay as far away from Dad, which meant no calling, visiting, talking, anything. He had become a bit of a jerk since he remarried, but I would have liked to have a bit of a relationship with him…

"I have to tell him you're not competing on Saturday," she huffed, sitting heavily in a chair. "God, I can't believe he married that awful woman."

I sighed and stood up. Despite what Mom said, she was always jealous of Dad's ability to move on and forget about the family he originally had.

"No, where are you going?" she whined as I made for the stairs. I had a vision of listening to my music loudly and drowning out my mom's being-single-angst.

"Upstairs."

"Why?" She gave me a pity-me-look with her lip stuck out.

"Because if you're upset that Dad's remarried, why don't you just start dating?"

She watched me for a long minute before promptly changing the topic. "How's karate?"

I rolled my eyes. "Fine, considering I can only do hand techniques."

"But you're helping your friends, right?"

I nodded. "It's hard, though. I can't show them how to do the move properly."

"Well, we'll see how they do on Saturday, won't we?"

My phone chimed in my hand. Glancing down at it, I laughed loudly. (One's a crusty bus station, the other's a busty crustacean :P)

"Jack! Who are you texting?" Mom suddenly asked.

"Hmm? Oh, it's just Kim." I stole a look at her, gauging her reaction. A wide smile split her face.

"You're blushing! Aww, Jacks, you like her!"

I ducked my head. "No, I don't," I protested, even though I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. She kept beaming at me.

"My little boy is growing up," she said as she pretended to wipe away a tear.

"Hey, you remember when I said I was going upstairs? Yes? Well now I'm actually going to leave."

"She's a nice girl; you should ask her out!" She called as I fled for my room.


And then it was finally the morning of the competition. I was lounging on Rudy's couch watching Kim quiz Jerry and Milton. They were in ironed and starched uniforms while I was comfortably dressed in just my training pants and t-shirt. My belt tied loosely around my hips. At least there was one perk of not competing. Milton answered another question wrong and Kim shook her head. They knew the correct answers to her questions, but their nerves must have been messing with their thoughts. They hadn't given a single correct response.

"Jerry, which part of your foot is used for a roundhouse kick?"

"Uh… the inner forearm!"

Kim groaned and leaned back in defeat, accidentally hitting my arm. Sparks shot up my arm. She tipped her head back and smiled as if she knew how I felt about her.

"It's the instep, Jerr," I told him. "Just relax. You know everything, and you'll do fine."

Jerry and Milton exchanged uneasy looks with each other as Rudy popped his head through the door. "Ready? We're about to start. Kim, you're first."

We marched through the door. Their faces blank sheets of anxiety and grim. I shook my head, smiling. They'd be fine.

Outside Rudy's office, there was a throng of people moving in different directions. Some competitors were warming up while others were sitting on the side, with expressions matching Jerry and Milton's. The bleachers we had set up were packed with family and friends for all the different dojos. I stopped walking. My stomach twisted unhappily as one face stood out from the rest of the crowd. My dad ignored all the calls from Mom, and here he was. The one tournament he came to, I wasn't even competing in.

"Jack, why aren't you moving?" Kim asked, pushing me forward. She followed my gaze and her lips formed an o. "Is that your dad?"

I nodded. It felt like I had been knocked down. Here I was, excited for my friends to compete and do well, but I have to be reminded that I can't do karate for half the summer. I dI'd my best to shrug it off, and keep walking.

Everyone made it through the first round. Kim almost knocked her opponent out, which had me worried because then she'd be disqualified. Milton broke four boards with a flying sidekick. Jerry's weapon routine almost knocked Kim's opponent out...again. Luckily, Jerry's opponent was even worse than him.

Between rounds, I helped Rudy move more practice dummies out. I practiced my hand techniques on one of them until Kim came over. "So, you've been quiet," she said. I shrugged, and brought my hand down hard on the dummy's nose. I briefly imagined it being my Dad's nose that I had just broke. She stepped in front of me and started blocking my attacks. "What's up, Jack?"

I sighed, and dropped my hands. "What's up is that my dad is here, and I'm not competing. I can't do karate. At all. I can punch people, but it's not the same."

"I thought your leg was better. You haven't been limping."

"I can walk, but it'll pop out again if I kick."

"Well," she said slowly. "Who says you have you to kick?" I look at her questioningly. She nodded her head towards the center of the sparring mat. "Sit down, and block my attacks."

"I don't understand," I said, as I took a seat.

"Block my attacks," she repeated. Kim started kicking at me. Using my arms, I managed to block her kicks, and using my good leg, I could kick her without losing my balance. She dodged behind me, I spun around, and sent a cutting kick at her to stop her attack. Our legs got tangled, and she lost her balance. Kim fell on top of me, her blonde hair falling in my face. We started laughing. We were so close to each other. I leaned in, she closed her eyes…

"Jackson." My head snapped away, and Kim scrambled off of me. In all his salt-and-pepper haired glory, stood my dad. A gold band glinted on his left hand.

"Hey, Dad," I said awkwardly.

"What do you think you're doing? Why aren't you competing?" he demanded.

"I can't. I'm injured." I crossed my arms.

"Go figure. If you weren't fooling around, you'd be winning." My cheeks flamed. I glimpsed at Kim, and was half relieved to see her face was also bright red.

"I wasn't fooling around, Dad. I was training."

"Training does not mean kissing random people," he sneered. I opened my mouth to respond, but he continued. "If you actually cared about karate, you wouldn't be sitting out. If you stayed in Colorado, you would be a fourth degree by now, so why does your belt only have two stripes? You were going to get a karate scholarship! Now what happened to that? It would have been nice to know you weren't participating, so I didn't have to waste a trip down here."

"Mom tried calling you, but you never answered. I just assumed you wouldn't come because you never do."

His face dropped. "Jack… I know I haven't been around much, but I-"

"Have other priorities? A new wife? A kid on the way that you can leave, too?" I offered. He shifted his weight, becoming defensive.

I prepared myself for whatever cutting words Dad was about to say. Rudy hollered, "Kim! You're up soon!"

I had forgotten that Kim was standing next to me. Hell, I'd forgotten that I was sitting in the middle of the mats. I drew myself up, leaning on Kim for support as a small spasm of pain wound through my leg. My dad's mouth was open, about to spew his gibberish when I cut in, "I should go cheer my team on. Nice seeing you, Dad."

I spun around and walked with Kim to the guys. She looks at me with confusion. "What was that, Jack? I thought you wanted a relationship with your dad, but you weren't acting like it."

"I'm a hypocrite, okay? And I forgot that he was so fixated on my karate. Remind me that I'm always happier without him. Anyway, don't worry about that; you have to fight this guy."

I seized up her opponent: a girl with short brown hair and blue eyes. I'd seen her fight earlier, and she was going to give Kim a tough time. "Watch for her reverse hooking kick. And she does lots of combinations especially high-middle-middle. And she favors her–"

"–right leg," Kim finished for me. "I know. I've been watching her. I got this," she said. And then to herself for confidence. I smiled and playfully pushed her toward the mats. As the match started, I searched the bleachers for my dad. I didn't see him.


The first week of summer came to a close after the award ceremony. I was helping clean the dojo as teams left. Jerry, Milton, and Kim were happily chatting with each other as they shoved their gear into bags. All three of them had gotten a medal which hung around their necks.

Jerry placed first for weapons; Milton first for patterns and board breaking; Kim suffered a small defeat in the final round and ended up with silver for sparring, but she was happy anyway. As soon as Rudy shoved the last box into the supply closet, we were ready to celebrate at Phil's, but a woman walked in. She was clearly educated in karate, for she stayed in the doorway where her high heels wouldn't make indents on the soft rubber mats.

"Can I help you?" Rudy asked, sounding professional for once.

"I'm from the Academy of Haiyang Kongshoudao."

"The what?" Rudy interrupted.

"It's a karate school in China," she said with an accent. "We were here this weekend looking for new students."

I smiled at Kim, sure that this woman was talking about her.

"There lot of talent here but we wanted to offer one the chance to study abroad for the summer at Haiyang."

And then to my surprise, she turned towards me. "I am sorry," she said. "You were not competing. I do not know your name. You were sparring from the ground during a break. It was very impressive. Do you want to stay in China for the summer?"

My jaw dropped. Even without competing, I managed to get an opportunity to this Chinese martial arts school. "Uh-um… yeah I would," I stuttered. "I just have to check with my mom. Oh, but, I'm injured. I can't really do karate."

"You can do hand-technique and other things. Here." She handed me an envelope. "Talk to your family, and tell us later."

"Okay, thank you," I said still in shock. She walked out, and I stood there stupidly. It felt like I had imagined her. I turned to my friends, and Kim ran up to me grinning.

She threw her arms around me and said into my shoulder, "See? That hard work did pay off. If only your dad knew you got a scholarship."


meh not the way I wanted to end this one shot, but I didn't have any other ideas. I'm out of ideas to write! And I have one week of class left, so please tell me your ideas! I'll have plenty of time to write.

What did you think about this chapter?

Do you want more like this one?

What genre do you want to me to write more of?

What character should it focus around?

Do you want OC to come in?

Please review xx