Mom had an early shift, so she was able to take me to taekwondo on Saturday afternoon. She still hadn’t noticed I wasn’t talking to her. But at least I didn’t have to ride with Madison.
I was going to ask for a new handbook after class. I swear. But Master Kim was talking to Madison in the back of the room. And he wasn’t smiling.
I’d noticed during class that Madison was standing in the back row. She wasn’t wearing her belt, either.
I waited by the door and pretended my bag zipper was stuck. “A good martial artist is responsible for her own equipment,” Master Kim told Madison. “If you forget your belt again, you will be asked to sit out class.”
“Yes sir,” she mumbled.
I kept fiddling with my bag, trying to come up with what I’d say, and missed Master Kim walking toward me.
“Did you need something, Eliza?”
My heart about jumped through my skin.
Words tumbled in my head like socks in a dryer. Handbook. Sweet Caroline. Ask. Responsibility.
I decided I’d just have to keep looking.