Chapter 11

The White-Belt and the Black-Belt-To-Be

OR

Bend and Snap and Slip and Fall

"Spider-Man's silly. Iron Man's better than Spider-Man." Dawsen tells Parker for the umpteenth time. Parker lets out the best exasperated huff a five-year-old can muster. He looks almost as frustrated as me. Almost.

"Dawsen," I call again. "Dawsen, I said, 'No more talking about Spider-Man or Iron Man.'"

Dawsen turns his wide, innocent brown eyes to me. "OK... But Spider-Man is silly. He can't even beat..."

"The lizard guy." I finish for him with my own exasperated sigh. "I know."

"He's silly." He says, yet again. "Spider-Man's silly."

"Parker likes Spider-Man." I say. "Let's just not talk about him anymore, OK? Now, it's your turn... Front-kick, front-kick, punch, pun- Aden!"

Aden is in the corner again. I don't know how he's managed to sneak out of the line AGAIN, but there he is, in the corner, playing with the heavy hanging bag that I've already told him is off limits to all Little Dragons and, for that matter, anyone whose head doesn't even reach my belly button.

"Aden!" I call out again. But as usual, it is like the boy is deaf. He responds to his name about as often as Helios does. I watch as he spins and executes a perfect tornado-round-kick on the bag. But before I can even marvel at his skills or wonder how a six-year-old, yellow-belt has mastered a technique I know Master Anya only teaches to green-belts and above, the boy has already proceeded to head butt the bag, only to be knocked backwards onto his own butt.

"Aden!" I call again as he now wriggles underneath the bag and starts swinging it back and forth above him.

"Aden!" I'm about to put down my paddles, tromp across the mats, and drag the kid back into the line by his belt. But before I can push myself up off my knees, the boy log-rolls out from beneath the bag, somersaults across the mats, and shoves his way directly into the middle of the line.

"Hey!" Rosey protests from behind him. "He cut! Teacher... He cut!"

"Aden!" I call again and finally, FINALLY his eyes meet mine. He looks mildly surprised, as if he only just now realized that I've been calling, calling, calling him. I signal for him to come stand before me at the front of the line, and amazingly, he does so obediently. He stares at me with a look of innocent confusion, as if he has no clue why I've suddenly summoned him.

"Aden..."

"Yes?"

"Is your name, Aden?"

"Yes..."

"Are you sure?"

He just blinks at me.

"How come you never answer to your name?"

Blink. Blink. Aden has blond hair and blue eyes and he makes me think of Clarke. But there is too much reddish-brown streaked in his blond and too much gray swirling in the blue.

"Aden... You have to listen when I call you, OK?"

Still, he just blinks at me. But at least he's actually looking at me. For once, I have his attention. For once, I think he is actually listening to me.

"And what did I say about staying in line? After you kick you go straight to the BACK of the line, right? Just like everyone else, right?"

Blink. Blink.

"Don't touch the heavy bag again, OK? Understood? Aden... Do you understand?"

The boy blinks one last time before he opens his mouth to respond at last.

"You have green eyes." He says. And I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

"And YOU have major ADHD." I mumble, but whether or not he understood doesn't matter, because already he is doing somersaults again. At least he is headed towards the back of the line.

"Alright, Dawsen." I sigh. "Let's try this again... Front-kick, front-kick, punch, pun-"

"Spider-Man's silly." Dawsen interrupts me.

"Yes, I know." I sigh again. "You can tell me all about how silly he is and how great Iron Man is after class, OK. You can even tell me about the lizard guy. But first, let's kick. Front-kick, front-kick- Aden! What did I just say about staying in line? Aden! Aden!"

I can hear muffled chuckling coming from Anya's desk in the entry area, but when I turn my pleading eyes to her she immediately goes right back to pretending she's too busy doing paperwork to notice my floundering. I glance at the clock above her desk as Rosey tugs at my uniform.

"Teacher... Teacher!" She cries. "That boy cut again! Teacher..."

Ten minutes down... Twenty to go.

"That was the longest half hour of my life!" I sigh as I collapse onto my back on the mats, sprawled out like I'm trying to make sweat angels.

"You did... Uh... Well..." Anya pauses and again I can tell she is barely holding back the laughter. "Let's just say there is room for improvement."

"There were so many of them!"

"There were six of them." Anya chuckles.

"Are you sure? It felt like sixTEEN. I think Dawsen counts as four, and Aden counts as five, and Parker counts as at least two. Did you hear what he said to me when I tried to get him to do Poomsae? 'I just wanna play dodgeball, crazy master!'"

"Yeah," Anya laughs. "Parker's not a big fan of forms. We've been working on the first six moves of Poomsae Tae Geuk Il Jang for a month now. Only the first six moves... And he STILL turns the wrong way every single time. And then there's Aden, who practically memorized the whole thing perfectly the first time I showed it to him. But we're lucky if he gets through half of it before he completely loses interest and starts doing somersaults and cartwheels again. I swear, that boy has so much potential but- Oh, hello Clarke!"

At the name, I shoot into a sitting position and scramble to my feet so quickly it makes my head spin. Anya raises her eyebrows at me and I know I am blushing, but thankfully Anya holds back the snickers I see glinting in her eyes. I glance nervously at Clarke, but of course her eyes immediately dart away from mine and hold fast to Anya's instead.

"You're early." Anya smiles. "Why don't you come stretch with us?"

Clarke bites her lip at the idea, hesitating. Clearly, she doesn't want to be anywhere near me. But Anya is roping her into this as much as she's roped me. Anya doesn't care if Clarke hates my guts and can't stand to even be in the same room as me. She's using her position of authority to manipulate us. Why? Because she still thinks this is funny.

I plunk down next to Anya and shoot her my best, 'I can't believe you are making me do this,' glare as Clarke ducks to take off her shoes. Anya smirks back at me, clearly pleased with herself and the game she's playing. Clarke takes so long to untie her sneakers it's as if she's wearing quadruple knotted, knee-high, biker boots rather than plain old Sketchers, and I've already gone through butterflies and my pathetic attempt at the splits by the time she finally plods her way across the mats and plops down on Anya's other side, as far from me as she could possibly sit without making it obvious that she's avoiding me.

"I think you already know Lexa from school, right?" Anya asks Clarke, her first attempt at filling the uncomfortable silence with equally uncomfortable forced conversation.

Clarke doesn't answer. Maybe she nodded. But I wouldn't know. We have our backs to the mirrors and she's angled herself so that I can't even see her past Anya without craning my neck.

"As part of her black-belt testing requirements, Lexa's going to be helping me teach classes occasionally." Anya tries again.

Of course Clarke doesn't respond.

"So..." Anya starts again. Third try's a charm, right? "Lexa says you are new at her school. Are you liking Oregon so far?"

Still no answer. At least, no audible answer. Clarke obviously doesn't want to talk. But Anya is persistent. Maybe the fourth try's a charm?

"Where are you from?" Anya asks, finally switching from 'yes or no' questions so that Clarke HAS to speak.

"California." She answers in a tiny voice.

"I love California!" Anya replies, cheerfully. "Whereabouts? North? South?"

"Long Beach."

"Ooohh... Nice area. You've got the beach, L.A., Disneyland... Have you ever been to Disneyland?" Another 'yes or no' question, and I have no idea how Clarke answers it.

Disneyland... I think to myself, bitterly. I used to dream of going to Disneyland someday. Back in the days when I dreamed of going to Space Camp, or Australia, or the Grand Canyon. I don't dream like that anymore. Unless our school suddenly decides to actually mix it up this year and go somewhere other than the zoo for the end-of-the-year fieldtrip, there is no way I can even get my butt to the Newport Bay Aquarium to see the squids, let alone get to California to see the 'Happiest Place on Earth.' No... The only dream I still bother putting any hope into is to someday find a college that is not only willing to take me, but will also offer me a free ride. And I know that's about as likely to happen as Space Camp.

"Oh... Tommy's here." Anya says, effortlessly pushing herself out of her perfect splits and onto her feet. "I have to talk to his mother about testing. Lexa... Why don't you explain the Five Tenets of Tae Kwon Do to Clarke?"

I pull my feet back into butterflies as Anya abandons me, even though I've already done this stretch twice and I'm starting to worry my hip might pop right out of its socket if I hold it much longer. But I bite my lip through the pain, because butterflies gives me an excuse to look down at my feet as I speak.

"Uh... The Five Tenets of TKD are courtesy, integrity, perseverance, self-control, and indomitable spirit." Is all I say. "They're painted on the wall out there if you forget."

I don't elaborate. And Clarke doesn't ask me to. And the silence between us is like a wall... A massive, concrete wall with spikes and twisted barbed wire running along the top of it. And I don't know if SHE built it, or if I built it, or if maybe for once we accidentally did something together. But either way, it is there. And the stupid, masochistic part of me desperately wants to try to scale it... Even if it means cutting myself open... Even if it means falling to the Earth and breaking into pieces on the ground. But I have a feeling that, even as we sit here, Clarke is still fortifying her side of the wall, maybe adding surveillance cameras or a really big, hungry Rottweiler.

"Hey, Lexa..." Tommy runs up to me, clutching the big, hot-pink, bouncy ball against his hip. "Wanna play Wall-Ball? I know you need a rematch from the last time I beat you."

Tommy is the cockiest ten-year-old I know and his smirk is far too big for anyone who still has baby teeth for molars.

"I LET you win last time, Tommy." I lie.

"Yeah right," Tommy scoffs. "I creamed you!"

"Maybe I LET you cream me." I argue.

"Yeah... OK, if you say so." He laughs and rolls his big brown eyes. "Well... Are you going to LET me cream you again? Or are you just going to sit on your butt?"

I glance over at Clarke, and of course she has her eyes glued to her feet just like I did. Part of me doesn't want to leave her all alone. The other part of me is grateful, grateful, grateful to have an excuse to do just that.

"Come on," Tommy pleads. "We only have five minutes left before class starts."

"Alright, alright..." I concede. "Five minutes is plenty of time to kick your butt." I tease. "But, no cheating this time."

"Hey... You're the only cheater here, Lexa." Tommy says, speaking the truth. "But it doesn't matter. You can cheat all you want and you're still going to lose."

Tommy grabs my wrist and I let him pull me towards the wall, leaving Clarke sitting all alone in the shadow of her own.

***...***

"Alright everyone," Anya calls out to the class. "Grab a shield and a partner. Basic kicking. Yellow and orange... Up to double-kick. Green and blue... Up to tornado-round. Lexa..." She snags my sleeve. "Why don't you take Clarke aside and help her with the first four... Front, round, side, and axe?"

"Yes, Master Anya." I mutter because I have no other option. "Come on..." I mumble to Clarke as I walk past her towards the corner of the mats. She follows me silently.

"So... Front-kick." I start, wondering where to begin. This is definitely not my first time teaching a white-belt how to kick, but it might as well be for how my stomach is flipping inside of me at the prospect. My heart is pounding and my hands are sweating as I grip the paddles. And I don't know if I'm nervous or frustrated, excited or angry, or what. I don't know WHAT'S going on inside of me. All I know is I don't like it. I pretty much feel like I might puke at any moment.

"Uhh... It's called front-kick because you kick to the front." Obviously, Lexa... You idiot, I scold myself. "Uhh... Basically you lift your knee and you snap your foot out and you can hit with the top of it if you're kicking a paddle or with the ball on a real person. And then, after you snap it out, you have to return it before you put your foot back down. Bend and snap... Just like on Legally Blond." I try to chuckle at the stupid joke I've told so many times, even though no one ever gets the reference. And I know I'm rambling and I have no clue if my words make any sense.

Clarke doesn't laugh. She doesn't nod or make any reply. She stares at the mats beneath our feet. She stares at the paddles in my hands. She stares at the empty space between us. She looks anywhere but at me.

"Snapping it instead of swinging it makes it more like a whip. So you get more power." I continue rambling. "Maybe I should just... I'll just show you..."

I front kick into the air beside Clarke. But she just continues to stare at the mats. So I take a deep breath and throw another.

"OK... You try." I mutter.

I can feel the frustration starting to bubble up inside of me. I'm starting to wish I was partnered with Aden. At least he could look at me. I hold the paddle out before me and Clarke swings a foot through the air to thud against it. She doesn't bend. She doesn't snap.

"Uhh..." I say. "You forgot to bend and snap. Here... I'll show you again."

Clarke watches my kick through the side of her eye, but she still won't look at me properly and suddenly I can't take it anymore.

"Look..." I hear myself mutter, despite my every attempt to shut my mouth. "I know you don't like me. I know you don't want to be partnered with me. But, like it or not, whether you hate me or not... we're stuck together, at least until you can learn these four kicks. And you would learn them a lot faster if you could LOOK at me!"

Clarke doesn't say anything. But her eyes finally meet mine. And I have to take a step backwards from their heat. And now that they're on me, my mouth is finally shut. Shut tight. She is glaring at me again. But for once, I don't think it is anger I see burning in her fierce eyes. I don't know what it is. I can't read them, and now I am the one turning my gaze to the mats, away from her brightness.

"Uhh..." I finally force my tongue to form the words. "Maybe we should just try axe-kick. It's easy. You just swing your leg up and down... Like an axe." I finish stupidly, before demonstrating the kick in the air. Clarke watches me this time and I feel my face burning under her hot gaze.

"Ok... You try." I say, holding the paddle out high for her.

It's too high and her toes barely nick the edge of the paddle on her first try. I'm about to lower it for her when she suddenly throws a second attempt. She swings her leg high, leaning backwards to compensate and her stabilizing leg slips out from beneath her and, before her eyes can even go wide in surprise, both of her legs have shot into the air and she flops spectacularly onto her back on the mats.

I feel all of my anger and frustration rush out of me along with my gasp of surprise. "Clarke! Are you OK?" I ask, standing over her as she blinks up at me as if confused as to how she ended up sprawled on her back.

Her eyebrows pull together and her cheeks flush pink and her lip trembles, and for one moment I'm sure she is about to start crying. But then she opens her mouth and lets out a burst of laughter. Wild, shameless laughter. And I'm so taken aback by it, I'm not sure whether I should join in or not. But there is one thing I am sure of: I never want to be the one who makes this girl cry ever again. I only want to see her grin. I only want to hear her laugh.

And I don't care if she hates me for the rest of my life. I've already decided, here and now, I'm going to do everything I can to make this girl smile.

"Don't worry," I say, extending a hand towards her. But, still chuckling, she ignores it and crab-walks the few feet across the mats to prop herself against the mirror instead. I plunk down beside her, not caring whether or not she has invited me to. "Everyone falls doing an axe-kick at some point. I remember when Bellamy axe-kicked himself in the face so hard his nose started bleeding and I couldn't stop laughing at him. Then, literally like two minutes later I totally fell on my butt too."

Clarke doesn't reply. But I wasn't expecting her too. We sit in silence for a second as she catches her breath, watching the others take turns kicking, letting their yells and the smacking of flesh on paddles fill the air between us. Master Anya eyes us curiously, but she doesn't scold us. And I think of the words of wisdom she mumbled yesterday through a mouthful of sushi. And I swallow hard, searching for my own words.

"I'm sorry." I finally say. And it doesn't matter whether or not she cares to hear it, I have to say it. "I'm sorry I yelled at you the other day. I was a total butt-head. It's just... I don't know..." I stammer. My heart is going crazy inside of me again and I don't know how to say everything I want to say. I don't know how to do this. But I'm doing it anyway. "I just thought, when you gave me the backpack... I thought maybe that meant you wanted to be friends. But then I realized that you still hated me... And I didn't understand why... And..."

"I don't hate you." Clarke interrupts me in the smallest of voices. And yet the words ring in my ear.

"But..." I protest. "You never talk to me or even look at me. You always seem so angry at me..."

"I'm not angry at you." She says. "I'm angry at everything else. I hate it here. I hate Oregon and I hate Portland and I hate our school. But I don't hate YOU. And..." She pauses and I realize I am holding my breath, waiting, waiting, waiting for her to speak again.

"And... I DO want to be your friend, Lexa." She says, and her voice is tiny, but it fills every empty space inside of me. "I just... I didn't know how to tell you. I yelled at you for no reason, and YOU should have hated ME. And I didn't know how to say sorry... And... I just... I DO want to be your friend." She repeats.

"Well then... Let's be friends." I say. And I know I'm grinning like an idiot. But I don't care. "I'm Lexa..." I add, turning towards her and holding out a hand. "I hate pickles and spiders. I love drawing, and German Shepherds, and mint-chocolate-chip ice-cream and Dots... but only the red and orange ones, not the yellow and green. And..." I swallow hard and let out a deep breath. "And... I lied... I DO need help. I CAN'T always do it on my own."

Clarke takes my hand and I feel my fingers tingle at her touch. "I'm Clarke. I hate the rain and peas and Ontari. I love boogie-boarding and the stars and peanut M&Ms and anchovies on my pizza...

"Eww..." I laugh as she pauses to swallow hard and take her own deep breath.

"And... And I lied too. I CAN'T fight for myself."

"Well, Clarke..." I say, pushing myself to my feet and pulling her by the hand still clutched in mine. "Let's change that."

***...***

CLARKE

Lexa's hand was warm and sweaty, her grip both soft and firm, as she pulled Clarke to her feet. And part of Clarke didn't want to ever let go of it, because Lexa's hand felt all right in her own. But she let her fingers drift from Lexa's as Lexa bent to retrieve the kicking paddles and held them out before her again.

Lexa was explaining the mechanics behind a round-kick now, but Clarke was barely listening. Because she was finally allowing herself to look, properly look, at the girl. And the girl with the sun and the sea in her eyes was smiling at her again. Only this smile was wider and brighter and freer than any of the others. And the hue of Lexa's eyes was a green prettier than any bucket of 'seafoam' paint could ever capture. And for the first time, Clarke didn't turn away from their heat. And maybe the sun in them would burn Clarke alive. Maybe the sea would pull her under and swallow her whole. But it didn't matter. Clarke had finally decided to brave the waves and there was no running back to the shallows now.

And Clarke wondered if Lexa noticed that she was staring, but even as the thought brought heat to her cheeks, Clarke could not bring herself to look away. All she had done from the moment she had first glimpsed the light in Lexa's eyes was look away and look away and look away. And now Clarke just wanted to stare, stare, stare.

Clarke suddenly realized Lexa was staring at her too; staring expectantly as if waiting for an answer to a question Clarke had not heard her ask.

"What?" Clarke asked, her face growing hotter by the second under Lexa's gaze.

"I said, 'Ready to try?'" Lexa giggled at Clarke's cluelessness.

"Oh... Uh... Could you show me one more time?" Clarke stammered, forcing her eyes to drop from the curve of Lexa's grin to follow the curve of her kick.

Lexa's kicks were strong but graceful, fast and fluid, sharp and smooth and accurate. And Clarke did her best to mimic them, feeling altogether clumsy and slow, stiff and awkward. But Lexa was a patient teacher and though she laughed at Clarke, her laughter didn't pound against Clarke's earlobes or sink like a weight in her chest, pushing her down until she felt small. Lexa's laughter was light and soft and airy. It was the kind of laughter that pulled at the corners of Clarke's lips until she could not resist joining in with it.

And by the end of the class Clarke was kicking well enough that Master Anya had smiled down at her and said, "Well... Between Lexa and me, we'll make a fighter out of you yet, Griffin." And she had flashed Lexa a wink Clarke was not meant to see. And Lexa's cheeks had flushed a pretty pink, but her grin had only grown even wider at Anya's nod of approval.

And Clarke was drenched in sweat by the time they finally bowed out to officially end the class. And her legs were tired. And her arms were tired. And her abs were tired. But of every muscle in her body, nothing hurt as badly as the muscles in her cheeks. Because, though she did not realize it until she stepped out into the cool night, Clarke had been smiling the entire time.