CHAPTER 21
The following week, Principal Love announced that the first exhibition matches would be taking place in Tae Kwon Do class.
Ashley was paired up with Joelle Atkins. Joelle loves her cell phone so much that none of us thought she’d be able to stop talking on it long enough to take part in the match.
“That’s fine with me,” Ashley said. “I’ll sneak up on her while she’s speed-dialing.”
Frankie was paired up with the blowbag himself, Nick McKelty. For the whole week before, McKelty had been telling everyone that he was going to take Frankie down. Even though McKelty weighed twice what Frankie did, I knew there was no way he could beat him. Frankie moves at the speed of light. McKelty moves at the speed of a snail. A really slow snail.
As I sat in Reading Gym that week, writing captions underneath the photos in my scrapbook and double-checking to make sure I used capital letters for all the proper nouns, I could hear the kids across the hall getting ready for the match. They were sliding chairs around the gym, and Principal Love was shouting out directions in his overly deep voice. A few times, Zoe and I got out of our seats and went to the door so we could hear what he was saying.
“Make a circle, young masters,” he called out, “so we can gather in a circular shape, which, as we all know, is the best shape to gather in when sitting in a circle.”
“I must really have big-time learning challenges,” Zoe said with a laugh, “because I don’t understand anything your principal says.”
“What’s even more scary is that I did understand him,” I said. “He’s telling the kids to sit down so the matches can start.”
We went back into the library to continue our work. Zoe was sitting at a computer, watching an animated purple dog trot in and out of his doghouse on the screen. It was an exercise to build up her tracking eye muscles.
“I wish we could go see the matches,” Zoe said, looking up from the screen. “I’d love to see how Frankie and Ashley and Nick do. Besides, this yapping purple dog is getting on my nerves.”
My hand shot up in the air.
“Do you need some help, Hank?” Mr. Rock asked, walking quickly over to me. He had been working with Luke Whitman, whose nose was running like a faucet. Judging from the fast pace he was setting to get to me, I think Mr. Rock wanted a break from the mucus flow.
“It’s about the Tae Kwon Do class, Mr. Rock. They’re having their first matches today. Please can we go?”
“What about your capital letters, Hank?”
“I’ll finish them tonight at home. I promise.”
“Hank, we have work to do in Reading Gym,” Mr. Rock said. “You guys are going to start the presentations of your life stories next week, and you need time to prepare.”
“But Frankie and Ashley are competing today,” I said. “I need to support my friends, don’t I?”
“My cousin Nick is participating, too,” Zoe said, “and I know he’d like me there. I think being a close family is very important, don’t you, Mr. Rock?”
Way to go, Zoe McKelty. Play the old close family card!
Mr. Rock scratched his chin and thought. “If I let you go, I have to offer the same opportunity to the rest of the group,” he said.
“How about if those of us who go write a report about it?” I said. “For reading and writing practice.”
“I guess I could live with that,” Mr. Rock said. “Okay, kids, who else wants to go?”
Oddly enough, Zoe and I were the only two who raised our hands. The Wilson sisters, Kacey and Sloane, had a brother named Austin in Tae Kwon Do, but they said they saw plenty of him at home and watching him kick and punch sure wasn’t worth writing a report about. Luke Whitman said he had spent the whole weekend glued to a kung fu movie marathon on TV, and he was up to his nostrils with martial arts. (When it comes to Luke Whitman, friends, it’s all about the nose.) Chelsea Byrd said she was too nervous about her presentation to take any time off. Felipe Aguilar was being picked up early for a dentist appointment, and Mr. Rock felt that Brandon Clarke was just a little too hyper that day to be able to sit still for the match.
So Zoe and I were the only ones to go into the gym for the matches, which was fine with me. I mean, who wants Luke “The Nose Faucet” Whitman sitting within wiping distance of your shirtsleeve, anyway?
Ashley and Frankie were really glad to see us. Ashley looked great. She had decorated the back of her gi with a rhinestone map of Korea, to honor the country where Tae Kwon Do had first been developed.
“Hello, Mr. Zipzer,” Principal Love said. “And who is your chapeau-wearing friend?”
“This is Zoe McKelty from PS 9,” I said proudly.
“I’m here at PS 87 to work on improving my reading and tracking skills,” Zoe said to him. I looked at her in amazement. Imagine, just announcing a thing like that to a gi-wearing principal and a room of students you don’t even know. That takes some kind of courage.
“Is it okay if we watch the matches?” I asked Principal Love.
It wasn’t an automatic yes like I thought it would be. Principal Love rubbed his face thoughtfully. As he rubbed, I saw his index finger accidentally flick the Statue of Liberty mole that lives on his cheek. The more he rubbed his face, the more he flicked her, first in the arm part, then in the feet part, then in the butt part. She didn’t seem to mind, though. She just hung on to his cheek welcoming all the tired and poor and huddled masses to America, just like the real Statue of Liberty does in the New York Harbor.
“If I let you stay, I want you to understand that this isn’t a sporting match you’re watching,” Principal Love said. “Do you understand that?”
“Absolutely, sir.” I nodded.
“Tae Kwon Do is a combination of sport, self-defense, and philosophy. You are watching a belief system in action, discipline in motion. Is that clear?”
“Crystal, sir.” I nodded harder this time, although I have to confess, he was losing me a little on the belief system part.
“There will be no cheering for winners,” he went on. “We are not here to win, are we, Mr. Zipzer?”
“No, sir. We are here to lose.”
“Incorrect, Mr. Zipzer. We are here neither to win nor to lose.”
“Right you are, sir. We’re here to tie.”
“Incorrect again, Mr. Zipzer. We are not here to win or lose or tie, but to learn, to study with the master sensei, which in this case, would be me. Is that clear, Mr. Zipzer?”
“Double crystal, sir, with a big fat red cherry on top.”
“In that case, you and your chapeau-wearing friend may stay. Are you junbi?”
“Uh . . . junbi, sir?”
“It means ready in Korean.”
“Oh. You bet, sir. We’re both junbi, aren’t we, Zoe?”
“I’m as junbi as I’ll ever be,” she said with a giggle.
I could see that Frankie and Ashley were dying to burst out laughing, but they didn’t dare. Principal Love was already walking into the middle of the ring, his Velcro shoes squeaking up a storm as he went.
“We’ll begin with a women’s match,” he said. “Ashley Wong and Joelle Atkins, come forward, please.”
Ashley walked into the middle of the ring, but there was no sign of Joelle. I looked around for her. I couldn’t see her, but I could hear her voice coming from the general direction of Nick McKelty.
“Can you believe it?” I heard her whispering. “She wore a charm bracelet with penguins on it. I mean, who does that? It’s so incredibly second grade.”
“Ms. Atkins,” Principal Love boomed in his extra loud voice. Joelle peeked out from behind the hugeness of Nick McKelty. Sure enough, her cell phone was attached to her ear, and she was chattering away.
“Oops. Got to go,” she said into the phone when she saw Principal Love staring her down. “Oodles of toodles.”
“I’ll take that,” Principal Love said, holding out his hand for Joelle’s phone. “You may pick it up on your way out.”
It must have been painful for Joelle to hand over her cell phone. I mean, that thing is like her third arm.
“Mrs. Crock will help the girls into their hogu,” Principal Love said. Mrs. Crock, a nice woman who works in the attendance office, was holding two dark blue mats that looked like the chest protectors that catchers wear in baseball. She went over to Ashley and slipped one over her gi so that it covered most of her middle part.
“This hogu will serve as both protection for you and as a scoring target,” Principal Love said.
“No way,” squeaked Joelle. “I’m not wearing that thing. It’s so not in fashion.”
“If you want to compete, then you will wear it,” Principal Love said.
Mrs. Crock slipped the hogu over Joelle’s gi, but you would have thought she was covering her in bird poop.
“Eeuuww, this is gross,” Joelle said. “Eeuuww, eeuuww, eeuuww.”
“She is so ridiculously girly,” Zoe whispered to me.
“If you think so now, wait until you see her moves,” I whispered back. Ashley had told me that when Joelle did Tae Kwon Do, all she worried about was that she was going to break a fingernail.
Principal Love insisted that the two girls put on headgear and shin guards, too. Then he positioned them in the center of the ring so they were facing each other.
“When your opponent touches your hogu with a hand or a foot, she scores a point,” he explained to them. “Of course, we are going to pull our punches and kicks, so as not to hurt the other person.”
“You mean they don’t get to punch and kick really hard?” Zoe whispered.
“Of course not,” I said. “We’re in school, after all.”
“If you fall down or are taken down, your opponent scores another point,” Principal Love went on. “The first person to score three points will be declared victorious.”
Before then, I had no idea how a Tae Kwon Do sparring match was run. This was turning out to be really interesting and fun.
With their hogu and headgear and shin guards on, I could barely tell which girl was which. Thank goodness for the rhinestone map of Korea. That would be a for-sure way to identify Ashley.
“Are you both junbi?” Principal Love asked.
“Junbi,” Ashley answered.
“Whatever,” Joelle said.
With that, Principal Love blew a whistle. Three short blasts and the match was on!