CHAPTER 5
Okay, I confess. I did feel kind of guilty as I walked into the gym for the after-school Tae Kwon Do class. A little voice inside was telling me that improving my reading was probably more important than learning to punch a board in half with my bare hands. Oddly enough, that little voice sounded a lot like my dad’s.
But all that guilt went away when I caught my reflection in the gym window. We had all been given a new white gi, which is the traditional uniform of the martial artist. And as I caught a glimpse of myself in my gi, I thought to myself, Wow, do I look powerful. Hey, you know I’m not stuck-up and I wasn’t just standing there admiring myself. But the thought did cross my mind that I was going to be good at martial arts.
I didn’t get to enjoy that thought very long because joining me in my reflection was a gigantic blob of white that looked like a bag of marshmallows that had melted together. It was Nick McKelty in a gi the size of the Goodyear Blimp.
“What are you doing, Zipperbutt?” he said. “Posing for animal crackers?”
“Yeah, I was thinking about being the lion,” I said. “Wanna hear me roar?” Then I growled in his face and walked away.
Okay, so it was babyish, but it felt really good.
I turned around to see Frankie and Ashley watching me, laughing their heads off.
“That deserves a three-way high five,” Frankie said. And we all put up our palms and slapped one another five.
Suddenly, the loudspeaker in the gym buzzed and a large, deep voice came blaring out.
“Attention, young masters in the making,” the voice said. “Your sensei approaches.”
There were ten or eleven other kids in the Tae Kwon Do class, and we all stopped what we were doing and turned our attention to the door. We waited and watched. Joelle Atkins, who has the icky pleasure of being Nick McKelty’s girlfriend, actually got off her cell phone, which is something that only happens every eighty years like one of those weird comets that flies by. Katie Sperling stopped messing with the scrunchie that holds back her blond ponytail and stood at attention. Ashley pushed her purple glasses back on her nose and craned her neck to see if she could see anyone coming. I have to confess, even I edged my way to the front of the group so I could get the first look. We could hardly wait to meet our teacher, the sensei who would teach us how to throw punches and land kicks. Then we heard footsteps coming down the hall. They were squeaky.
Wait a minute, I thought to myself. I’m positive I know that squeak.
“There’s only one person whose shoes squeak like that!” I whispered to Ashley.
But before she could answer, our sensei appeared in the doorway. He was none other than Principal Leland Love, wearing his favorite goofy Velcro sneakers that squeaked wherever he went. I don’t even want to tell you what he was wearing above the sneakers. Okay, I will, but you’re not going to believe it. He was wearing a gi with short pants that looked like Bermuda shorts. Below them, you could see his pale legs, wrinkly black socks, and, of course, the brown imitation leather Velcro sneakers. And wrapped around his waist was the scarf with the tap-dancing snowmen. It wasn’t a pretty sight.
“Young masters, I am your sensei,” Principal Love said. “Your teacher, trainer, and inspirational leader.”
There was a buzz that went around the group. I didn’t want to turn around and stare, so I couldn’t tell exactly who was saying what, but my ears picked up the following.
“You gotta be kidding.”
“What’s he know about this?”
“I thought this was going to be fun.”
“That’s the biggest gi I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m calling my mom to come get me.”
As for me, I just kept looking at Principal Love’s knees. It’s hard to take someone seriously as your inspirational leader if their knobby knees are staring you in the face.
“What’s with the short pants?” I whispered to Frankie. “Doesn’t that seem strange?”
“Maybe he left his gi in the dryer too long and it shrunk,” Frankie said.
“That makes sense,” Ashley said. “Because no one would go after that look on purpose.”
“Except a turtle,” I said. “It looks like his arms and legs are coming out of a shell.”
We had to cover our mouths and turn away from Principal Love to keep from laughing. But when we couldn’t hold it in anymore, a couple of smushed-down laughs leaked out of our covered lips. Principal Love shot all three of us a stern look.
“The martial arts are no laughing matter,” he said. “What exactly are you finding so funny, Mr. Zipzer?”
“Um . . . I was just thinking about a really funny turtle joke,” I said. “Would you like to hear it?”
Ashley poked me in the ribs with her elbow so hard I thought she was trying to crack one. There was a look of horror on her face as if to say, “You’re not really going to tell him what we’re thinking, are you?”
“Why, yes, Hank. I would,” Principal Love said. “Why don’t you share it with us all?”
Frankie was shaking his head no, as he inched away from me. I’m sure he was terrified that I was going to say something about how Principal Love looked like a turtle coming out of its shell.
But as much as I can’t remember how to spell almost any word, I happen to have a great memory for jokes, and I had a turtle one ready to go on the tip of my tongue.
“Why did the turtle cross the road?” I said.
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know,” Principal Love answered.
“To get to the Shell station.”
To my amazement, Principal Love threw his head back with such force that what little hair he had surrounding his bald spot flew into the air. Then he let out a huge laugh. And kept laughing for a really long time. Man, that guy must have been really starved for jokes. I mean, the turtle joke is cute, but it’s not a throw-your-bald-head-back-and-scream kind of joke.
Principal Love has this mole on his cheek that is shaped like the Statue of Liberty without the torch. Well, let me tell you, his mole looked like it was doing the hula as he laughed his head off. I watched it jiggle on his face, and my mind pictured that mole in a gi with a green belt holding the jacket closed. I cracked up again.
“Thank you, Mr. Zipzer, for that moment of levity,” Principal Love said. “And what are you finding so humorous now? Another joke, perhaps?”
I really couldn’t tell him this time. I mean, whose brain imagines a facial mole dressed in a martial arts outfit? Only mine, I’m sure.
“That turtle just keeps cracking me up, sir,” I said.
But by this time, Principal Love was over his laugh attack and ready to continue with the class.
“Let me begin by answering the question that I’m sure is on everyone’s mind,” he said, pacing back and forth in his gi shorts. “And that question must be, why is your esteemed principal teaching a class on martial arts?”
Joelle Atkins’s hand shot into the air.
“That wasn’t the question on my mind,” she said. “My question is, where can I keep my cell phone during class? I love it more than anything and I don’t want anyone else to touch it.”
Ashley rolled her eyes back in her head so far I thought they were going to slip around the back and never come down.
“What’s with her?” she whispered. “What kind of person is in love with a telephone?”
“I had a question on my mind,” Jonah Pattison said. He is a big fifth-grader who seems to have a sweating problem. At least, he’s always wearing a pretty sweaty looking sweatband around his curly hair, even in winter. It’s weird because he always wears a big jacket, too. If I were him, I’d take off the jacket, then maybe I wouldn’t sweat so much and I could take off the sweatband, too. But that’s me.
“What works better under this gi?” Jonah asked. “Boxers or briefs?”
“Eeuuuwww,” said Katie Sperling, who was standing in between Jonah and Nick McKelty. “Nobody wants to discuss your underpants, Jonah.”
Nick McKelty let out one of his monster laughs, spraying a few drops of saliva in the direction of Katie.
“Underpants,” he howled. “That’s a riot!”
Katie Sperling ducked to avoid his spit spray, then turned to Principal Love.
“May I please change places with Salvatore?” she said. Salvatore was standing at the total opposite side of the gym from Jonah and McKelty.
“Oh, no, I’m not standing next to them,” Salvatore said. “I don’t want to be stuck between Sweaty and Spitty.”
“Enough of this talk,” Principal Love said, clapping his hands to get our attention. “I intend to answer the question I posed. Why am I teaching the martial arts? Because, youngsters, what you don’t know about me is that I am an expert practitioner of several martial arts. Underneath this principal’s body beats the heart of a warrior.”
Wow. My grandpa, Papa Pete, always says you can’t tell a book by its cover, and boy, in this case, was he ever right. I mean, when you look at Principal Love, you’re definitely not thinking Bruce Lee or Jackie Chan. I mean, can you see one of those guys in a snowman scarf? Or Velcro sneakers? I don’t think so.
“Now gather around me, youngsters,” Principal Love said, “and listen very carefully. We are here to summon our physical, spiritual, and emotional energy to develop a strong moral character.”
“Excuse me, Principal Love,” I said, raising my hand to get his attention. “I think I’m in the wrong class. I thought we were going to learn how to break a piece of plywood with our foreheads.”
“It is that kind of concentration that we are looking to develop in studying the martial arts,” Principal Love said. “It will take time, focus, determination . . .”
“And a strong forehead,” Jonah Pattison chimed in. “Which I’m not sure I have.”
“You’ve got protection in that sweatband,” Frankie said. “We’ve been waiting for that thing to come in handy for years.”
Ashley laughed so hard that if she had been drinking milk, it would have come shooting out of her nose. Katie Sperling laughed, too, and I noticed that she sent a really deluxe smile Frankie’s way. And he returned it with his best dimple smile.
The very next second Katie Sperling changed places again and wiggled her way in between me and Frankie. Frankie is good at everything, and it was clear that Katie Sperling thought so, too.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed some commotion in the hall outside the gym. It was Mr. Rock herding about seven or eight kids into the library. They were making a lot of noise as they went in. Actually, it was more than noise. It was laughter, as in the sound you make when you’re having a good time. That didn’t make any sense. I mean, how could kids who were heading into the Reading Gym possibly be having a good time? And so soon?
“I’d like you all to go to your backpacks and pull out a pencil and some paper as quickly and as quietly as possible,” Principal Love said to us.
“Hey, I thought this was fighting class,” Nick McKelty called out. “Not a write-stuff-down class.”
“If you are to be a practitioner of the ancient art of Tae Kwon Do, you must know its history,” Principal Love said. “First we train the mind, then we train the body.”
As I got a pencil and some paper out of my backpack, I glanced out the door and saw Mr. Rock closing the door to the library across the hall. He caught my eye and waved.
“Come on over if you change your mind,” he called out.
I scurried back to the circle and joined the other kids sitting on the gym floor. Principal Love started to pace back and forth in front of us, his Velcro shoes squeaking with each step.
“The earliest records show that Tae Kwon Do has been practiced in Korea for over two thousand years,” he began.
“Two thousand years!” I whispered to Frankie and Ashley. “We’ll be taking notes until my next birthday.”
“That’s eleven months away,” Ashley said.
“I don’t have enough lead in my pencil for that!” I answered.
“Mr. Zipzer,” Principal Love said. “I’d like to see you whispering less and taking notes more. My lecture will be filled with fascinating details, such as a thorough and complete description of early cave paintings found on the ceiling of the Mu Yong-Chong tombs of people using techniques similar to modern Tae Kwon Do.”
Was he kidding? Were we all dressed in gis so we could sit in the stuffy gym and take notes on a bunch of ancient guys painting on tomb ceilings? Where was the action? Where were the roundhouse kicks? Where was the fun?
Oh, I know. It probably listened for two seconds to Principal Love drone on about the history of Tae Kwon Do and said to itself, “I’m out of here,” and ran as fast as it could out the gym door.
And speaking of fun, from the sound of things, I’m pretty sure it ended up in Mr. Rock’s Reading Gym across the hall.
I looked around, saw that no one was watching me, and headed out. I think you know where I was going.