Chapter 8

BALANCE AND PERSPECTIVE

the next day the fire

is the talk of the school

han six is distracted

and Yuki is silent

never once

whacking me on the head

without han six moving my desk

or making marks on my papers

I can even hand in work early

and place it on the pile of papers

weighted by a bronze dragon

that’s been in this classroom

twenty years, so they say

 

the subject of the fire

comes up again and again

so finally Ōshima-sensei says

to write a reflective essay

or make a newspaper page

or sketch pictures of the fire

or do anything else to reflect

so I draw

the house and flames far upriver

and in the foreground, huge

               a single plastic

               garden sandal

Shunta snorts when he sees it

makes loud fun of it

and I expect the usual

bruising punch to my arm

I try to protect myself

find and hold my center

but the blow comes

               from behind—Gō

                                             my head rings

 

I want to punch back

but Shō and Yōhei always say

               don’t!

               it will get worse if you do

               just hold on until next seat change

but seat change

is seven weeks away

seat change is not

until the end of November

my head throbs

but I pretend to laugh along

with Shunta and his gang

all crowded over my desk

poking fun at my drawing

my opponents

my attackers

                           too close

 

I want it to be five o’clock

I want to be at the dojo

chanting

stretching my neck

                              bending my wrists

               rolling over the mats

                              forward and back

                                             and falling, dropping

                              flipping, being flipped

               the slip, slip

                              of feet on the tatami

with Yamada-sensei’s voice

guiding us through moves

to evade strikes

to turn opponents

and get into safe places

but Shunta and Gō breathe

salty lunch smells on me

and start to scribble

right on my sketch

I know better than to act

as if I care

 

then I get an idea

and say

why yes, a dirty sandal

probably just trash

in a stiff, adult voice

yet this object

gives the painting

balance and perspective

foreground and background

imitating, more or less

the words of our art teacher

 

and it works—

they snort-laugh

and back away

just enough for me to stand

roll my sketch

have a look at

and pretend interest in

whatever the others drew

               Shunta’s mass of licking flames

               Naho’s eyeball with reflected flames

               Gō’s scratches he calls smoke

               Mika’s manga that she hides

                              when she sees me looking

my head hurts

from Gō’s smack

and I hate

Mika’s glare

but I did it

               I turned the opponent’s energy

               I controlled the opponent’s center