I thought I’d read Noriyuki’s calligraphy instructions wrong. There were no transports to anywhere near the destination, but the directions stayed the same no matter how many times I read them.
There was only one way to find out if I was right. So I tucked the paper into my zippered pocket and hopped on my bike.
My confusion continued to grow as I pedaled farther and farther into vast dirt plains. Dust blew into my face and eyes, and stuck to the sweat on my body. Soon, random piles of abandoned scrap metal and machine parts and wires and circuits cropped up.
I pedaled until my eyes burned, my mouth dried out, and my legs tired. Then I pedaled some more.
The piles of old electronics and metals grew in size and number until I was surrounded by mountains of the stuff. And suddenly, without quite realizing it, I rounded a bend into a green-soaked paradise.
Trees with leaves so green they seemed synthetic. Wildflowers and dandelions and overgrown bushes. Coconuts falling from towering palm trees. The variety of flora was so varied that it was almost like a larger version of the JSS Atria. Not as colorful, but the vibrant greens and yellows more than made up for the limited color spectrum.
I hopped off my bike and wheeled it through the outdoor atrium. The dirt paths eventually became lined with wide stones, and the bushes revealed rows of hanging pink flowers that looked like inverted hearts. Something about these flowers captured my attention—their melancholy, their precise shape, their color.
Every building I’d seen in the city was made of concrete or metal or some other dull synthetic substance, but the one in the middle of this atrium appeared to have grown organically out of the ground. Built out of dark wooden slats and only one story high, the garden building had a sharply peaked roof over a rectangular ground floor. I couldn’t even imagine what the inside might look like; there couldn’t be more than four compartments inside even without a community space.
“You like the bleeding hearts?” Noriyuki’s voice came out of nowhere. I nearly knocked my bike over.
I realized he was talking about the flowers I’d been staring at moments before. “They’re beautiful,” I answered honestly.
Noriyuki nodded and smiled. “They are fragile but strong. As long as they get the right care, they will grow and grow.”
“Just like real hearts, huh?” I joked.
Noriyuki nodded solemnly. “Yes. That is why I grow them.” Then he placed his hands on my bike’s handlebars, wheeling it in front of him so I would follow.
After propping my bike against the side of the building, underneath a window I tried to peek through—I could only see vague shapes through the thin curtain—Noriyuki led me around the building and to the back, where a miniature version of the electronics mountains were waiting.
Noriyuki placed his hands on my shoulders and forced me to look him in the eye. “Now it’s time to begin your Bin-son training. Are you ready?”
I nodded, but when he continued to stare at me, I gave him a verbal confirmation. “Yes, I’m ready.”
“Good. Now, first lesson: Why do we learn Bin-son?”
“To fight,” I answered.
Noriyuki lightly slapped my arm. “No,” he said sharply.
“Um… to stay in shape?” I braced myself for another smack, but this answer seemed to be at least somewhat correct. Noriyuki dropped his hands from my shoulders.
“Bin-son is for two things: to connect your mind with your body, and to protect yourself. Understand?” He punctuated the word mind by poking my forehead, and body by poking my chest.
“I understand.”
Noriyuki smiled. “Good. Follow me.”
Underneath a small tent-like structure in the middle of the piles of metal and wires, Noriyuki showed me an old clunky machine with a screen and buttons. “This is a computer,” he said, and lifted up a heavy, rectangular box. He pried it open to reveal a green panel and what looked like a couple fans. Did they not have cooling systems or temperature control in the past?
“In between lessons, you will put it together.”
The more I stared at the computer, the more complicated the inside looked. Lots of planet-bound people collected old machines and electronics, but unless you went looking for it, they never really showed the fixing process. Or even the insides. Just the final product. “But I don’t know how it’s supposed to work,” I pointed out.
“No, you don’t,” Noriyuki agreed, but didn’t provide me with a blueprint or specs or even the names of each archaic part. Instead, he told me that all of the spare parts in his back garden would be enough to fix the machine, but I wouldn’t need them all. Then he showed me the tools at my disposal—a variety of thin screwdrivers, small forceps, a headlamp, adjustable wrench, and vise. Not to mention the old-fashioned power-source that could be connected to the computer via a long, thick wire. When turned on, the power-source rattled like it could barely contain the energy it housed. Not exactly reassuring.
Back in the front garden, Noriyuki handed me a wide blade and showed me to a row of overgrown bushes. He placed his hand over my wrist and guided my arm so that the blade started over my shoulder and then swung down and chopped off a small piece of bush. My arm ended outstretched at a downward angle. “All the bushes, like this,” Noriyuki said, gesturing to the four long rows of similarly overgrown bushes.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to use shears?” I asked. “Or to chop off bigger chunks?”
“Maybe,” he answered honestly. “But you do it this way. Switch arms every bush.” Noriyuki mimed the slashing motion he’d just shown me with both arms. “Breathe out when you swing down. After, work on the computer for one hour.”
Noriyuki wandered back to the wooden building, leaving me to assess the rows of bushes. How was I supposed to get those all done in one day? And then work on some clunky old machine? I reasoned that Noriyuki probably just wanted to see if I was dedicated enough. So the sun rose higher, and I slashed inefficiently at the bushes.
As the sun began to reverse its progress, I finally reached the end of that last row of bushes, exhausted and sweaty and sore. My arms hung at my sides, the blade dragging on the ground when I turned around to assess my work—four rows of perfectly rounded bushes. I had to admit, I did feel a sense of accomplishment. I’d never done labor like that with such immediate and tangible results. I even felt up to tackling the computer. My body was tired, but my brain hadn’t done much work all day.
Then I actually stood in front of the thing, staring at all those wires and circuit boards and other small parts I didn’t even know the names of. What was worse, when I retrieved my bag and the tablet inside it from my bike, I couldn’t access the net. I couldn’t remember ever not having access to the net. It was always there to answer any question, to distract me, to help me out. I felt oddly bereft without it.
Once the discomfort subsided, I unclipped my tablet’s stylus and spent the next hour and a half alternating between drawing or taking notes and poking around the machine and metal piles. If I couldn’t do any research now, I would do it later.
Satisfied that I’d taken note of all I could, I knocked on the wooden building’s door only to find it unlocked. I carefully stepped inside, noting the pairs of shoes next to the floor mat by the door. I unbuckled my own and slipped them off.
“Noriyuki?” I called, looking around for my instructor. Like the outside, the inside of the building was like no space I’d ever seen. The inside was made up of the same dark wood as the outside, and though the walls were bare, the floor was covered in patterned rugs. Almost the entire building was just made up of one room, with the “community space” leading seamlessly into the kitchen and dining space, where a low table was surrounded by cushions instead of chairs. In fact, even though the peak of the ceiling soared overhead, all of the furniture was close to the ground, including the bed in a little nook near a door that I assumed led to a bathroom.
In that same nook, Noriyuki knelt in front of a small table, head hanging down and hands on his knees. I crept over as quietly as I could to peek over his shoulder. On the table were a picture frame and a box. In the picture frame was a physical photo of a young man. It wasn’t Noriyuki—the young man was strawberry blond and had a Califan tan. He wore a soldier’s uniform from the Wars of Lost Faiths era. A shiny, round pin sat comfortably in the cushioned box next to the photo. Small text etched into the gold read “Faithful Star” and then the name “Jedrzej Kaczmarek.” At least, I assumed it was a name. I had no idea how to say it. Nor did I know what a “Faithful Star” pin meant.
Noriyuki appeared to be sleeping despite his somewhat upright position. His chin rested on his chest, which rose and fell evenly. I decided to leave him alone to finish his ritual. Or his nap.
Back at home, after dinner and a shower and a brief conversation with my mom, I collapsed onto my bed and pulled out my tablet, still itching to learn more about the computer’s insides. A message icon from Hannah easily diverted my attention. After making the deal with Johnny and his Bin-son instructor, we’d been able to talk freely, even after she saw what they’d done to me. Luckily, with the help of Noriyuki’s magical stinky salve, I was practically fine after a week.
Hannah with an H: Do you want to meet tomorrow?
She’d never asked me to hang out outside of school before. So I immediately responded.
Slim: Sure. What do you want to do?
Hannah with an H: How about the Arcade?
Slim: What’s an arcade?
Hannah with an H: 😆 Meet me at my building. I’ll take you there. 19:00?
Slim: Intrigue… I’ll be there.
Hannah with an H: 😄
I spent the rest of the night attempting and failing to focus on my computer research in order to prevent myself from looking up what an arcade was. I woke up the next morning cradling my tablet like a pillow and had to unstick my face from it.
With aching arms and sore shoulders, I hauled myself out of bed and to my bike in order to make the long journey to Noriyuki’s strange house again. The ride felt even longer than the day before; my legs complained the entire time. The morning breeze did nothing to cool me down.
Noriyuki greeted me with a chipper smile and wave before handing me a cup and leading me back into the garden. As I followed, I sniffed the liquid in the mug and wondered if Noriyuki had just put some grass in boiling water. Then I sipped it and, oh, it didn’t taste that bad. Kind of earthy but… sharp. It woke me up, like a caffeine pill.
Around the back, several ropes hung from a line connected on one side to the building and on the other to a tree. Each rope was connected to a bunch of tiny, unlit lightbulbs. Noriyuki turned around and gestured toward the opposite side of the back garden where an identical line hung, except this one was already adorned with strands of hanging lights. “All four sides,” Noriyuki said, pointing to the two other lines—one across the back of the house, one across what I assumed he marked as the back of the garden. “I will show you how to string the fairy lights.”
“Fairy lights?” I asked as he reached for one of the ropes.
“Yes,” he said. “The small lights.” Noriyuki demonstrated the particular form he wanted me to take when pulling up the lights—arm raised, knuckles facing back, pulling up with my elbow as a hinge instead of my shoulder. Like the day before, I was instructed to switch arms between each strand of fairy lights.
“Why these lights?” I asked as I gripped the first strand and began my exercise.
“They light the garden well. Like stars.” Noriyuki sounded a bit wistful as he spoke, gazing at the already strung lights.
“You kind of get to make your own constellations,” I said, returning my attention to the lights I was in charge of.
“Yes,” Noriyuki responded. His shoes shuffled away through the mostly dead grass.
As I awkwardly pulled up on the fairy lights, my mind wandered toward my meeting with Hannah later. With my mind distracted from the monotony, my arms worked at double speed. I finished quickly and went to work on the computer right away, rummaging through some of the piles and sorting parts according to the notes I’d taken the day before. I spent two hours doing that, along with making a few more notes and drawings based on the unknown bits and bobs I found. The sun had barely started to go down by the time I came out of my productivity fog. There was something about this kind of labor—the kind that involved both my mind and my body—that made the time pass super quickly. Even when the labor was something like stringing lights or sorting old metal bits.
This time, when I knocked on Noriyuki’s door, it swung open right away. An intoxicating smell wafted out—that fishy scent I’d come to enjoy along with a spiciness that made my eyes sting. And something else, almost like fresh water or noodles or… noodles made of fresh water? I couldn’t tell.
“Finished?” Noriyuki asked.
“Yeah,” I said, shoving my hair off my sweaty forehead. “Can I see the fairy lights turned on?”
Without answering, Noriyuki stepped out and closed the door behind him. The shoes he wore were like outdoor slippers, one of the pairs that had been next to the door inside. I’d never understood the idea of slippers—shoes just for the indoors. If you were that sensitive about your foot hygiene, why not just wear socks? Or clean your floors? So I really couldn’t understand the idea of slippers for the outdoors.
I followed behind Noriyuki like a schoolkid, nervous and excited to hear what he had to say. Others’ approval had never mattered too much to me, so it came as a surprise that I cared about what Noriyuki thought of my work.
He studied the lights and nodded solemnly before peeking into the computer tent to assess my progress there. He looked back at me with the same solemn nod. “Very good. You are taking your time to prepare first.”
I smiled. “Well, I have to make sure I know what the end goal is before I start.”
Noriyuki returned the smile and led me back to the front door. “Would you like to come eat? You have worked hard.”
“Oh, uh, I have plans later. I don’t want to stay too long.”
Noriyuki waved an arm dismissively and opened the door. “You still need to eat. No need to stay long.”
After I unbuckled my boots and stepped out of them, I hovered awkwardly by the table and its cushions, listening to the hissing and steaming from the kitchen. The same fishy, fresh, and spicy aroma filled the entire compartment. Soon, Noriyuki carried two steaming stone bowls over to the table and set them down. He knelt on the cushion, sitting back on his heels and gestured for me to do the same across from him. The small white grains—what Noriyuki called “rice”—in the bowls were still sizzling, topped with fish and steamed vegetables covered in a reddish sauce. He handed me two small sticks and, holding his own in one hand, began to mix his food and grab mouthfuls with the sticks. I stared at him, unsure what to do. I’d never eaten with two sticks before.
Looking up from his own food to see me awkwardly gripping the sticks and failing to pick anything up, Noriyuki finally realized I had no idea how to use them. He seemed amused at my attempts, watching for a moment before offering to show me how.
Even after Noriyuki literally placed my fingers in the right places and moved them, it still took me almost the entire meal to get the hang of it. Despite how hot the food was, I scarfed it down as quickly as I could with my strange utensils. Right down to the crispy rice at the bottom of the stone bowl.
A bike ride, shower, and transport ride later, I stood in front of a building made entirely of stones, like the ones in Noriyuki’s garden but cut more uniformly. I’d never seen anything like it. Not even in old pictures of Earth. Maybe these types of buildings were common on the Golden Planet, just not in the city.
There were trees surrounding the building despite the dry dirt ground. On either side were equally as strange buildings—one made of a shiny white substance that somehow didn’t reflect the sun, and a metal one with flaps on the side that rippled like water despite the stillness of the air. I’d had to walk from the nearest transport stopover even though all the buildings had rails connecting to public transport.
On the screen next to the door, I clicked on Hannah’s family name next to the compartment number she’d sent me and began typing a message. Before I got past “Hannah,” the door swung open.
“Hi, Slim!” Hannah greeted, stepping forward for a hug. I hugged back on autopilot. Hannah looked so different than the last time I’d seen her only two days ago. Instead of long blonde curls, her hair was pin-straight and cut into a blunt bob just below her ears, bangs across her forehead. She wore a sleek tank top that revealed even more freckles across her shoulders and white pants as clean and shiny as the building next door, which made her look even tanner.
Meanwhile, I was still paler than almost everyone else despite being as tan as I could get, my hair had grown out into an accidental and uneven mullet, and my clothes were colorful and baggy. Everything about me was a far cry from the smart look Hannah was sporting.
“You have a new look,” I pointed out, suddenly unsettled by the stark difference between the two of us.
“I thought the occasion called for it. Shall we?” She linked her arm through mine, oblivious to my discomfort, and led me into the building. We entered a long hallway at the end of which were some stairs leading down to a private stopover. Hannah pressed her wrist to a small round receiver on the wall and her ID chip summoned a transport vehicle almost immediately. There was no one else in the single-car transport despite it being late on a weekend.
Hannah noticed that I was looking around at the unfamiliar setting. Calif was already so different to JSS, but all of this seemed like an entirely different thing altogether. “My parents are having dinner with some friends, so they won’t need the family transport until later,” she explained, misreading my curiosity. I nodded and sat down next to her. “You’re gonna love the Arcade. Everyone hangs out there. They really didn’t have one on the Jersey Space Station?”
“No, JSS only had room for essential spaces. Unless ‘arcade’ means ‘oxygen bar’ or ‘temperature control,’ I doubt any space station has one.”
She laughed, and I was able to relax a little bit.
When the transport stopped, Hannah took my hand and led me into an explosion of noises, smells, lights, and people. The Arcade was a community space full of virtual and physical games and dining spaces. Every game made unique sounds—shooting games, driving games, something called “laser tag” that involved fake mini battles, and a thousand others—and at each game, you won points called “tickets” that could be traded in for food or prizes.
Hannah beat me in almost every game we played and racked up thousands of tickets, but I unlocked a new skill when we played Air Hockey, a game based on an old Earthen sport that was played on ice. I used my winning tickets to buy her a small purple bear. Then she used her own tickets to get us a veritable feast of both nutritious and non-nutritious foods and drinks. We sat across from each other at a small booth and shared all the food between us.
“So?” Hannah said through a bite of fried coconut shrimp. “What do you think of the Arcade?”
I swallowed my own sip of carbonated water and said, “It’s crazy. But a lot of fun.” Despite my earlier misgivings, the night had been one of the best I’d had since moving to Calif. I was still smiling.
“Good,” she said, studying my face. I cocked my head to ask what she was looking at and Hannah just smiled in return. She picked up her little purple bear and waved its arms. “So next time, I’m going to beat you at Air Hockey.”
I laughed. “Yeah, and I’m going to beat you at… anything else.”
“Hey, Hannah! What’s up?” One of Hannah’s friends approached our table, followed by a group of people that, of course, included Johnny and his goons, along with several others I recognized from Hannah’s regular group.
“Hey!” Hannah greeted, tapping her ear. “Nice earpiece.”
The friend had an earcuff alteration in the shape of a dragon with a tail that led into their inner ear. “Thanks, I’m still getting used to it but it’s been helpful with my music studies already. Speaking of, a bunch of us are heading out to catch the Angry Spritez concert. Wanna join?”
“No, thanks. Next time, though,” Hannah responded, glancing over at me. I was getting increasingly uncomfortable, shrinking back into the booth.
After shushing the protests of a few others, this friend offered Hannah their wrist. “I’ll give you the info in case you change your mind.” Hannah reached over to tap wrists before the friend turned to me with their wrist still outstretched. “You, too, Slim. The more the merrier.”
“Oh, um, I don’t have my tablet.” I’d left it at home, assuming I wouldn’t need it. I was beginning to learn that tablets and ID chips made the Golden Planet go round. Even so, the Arcade had let Hannah use her ID chip for both of our tickets; apparently this wasn’t an uncommon practice between friends and on dates.
Hannah’s friend faltered, unable to hide their discomfort with the social faux pas. Johnny and a few others snickered in the background. “Okay, well, see you later maybe.”
“Nice bear,” Johnny sneered, rapping his titanium knuckles on the table as he walked by.
Embarrassed by the whole interaction, I crossed my arms and slumped back even further into the booth. “You could’ve gone,” I said, even though I knew I sounded like a kid throwing a fit.
“I didn’t want to,” she said pointedly.
“Well you could have,” I repeated.
“Fine. Let’s just finish our food.”
The rest of the meal was slightly awkward, but not an entirely lost cause. Hannah insisted on taking her family transport to the station nearest Reseda Complex. The door opened and I moved to step out, but Hannah caught my arm. She stretched her neck up to kiss my cheek. My entire body buzzed with joy despite how exhausting the past couple days had been.
With the type of grin that was so big she felt the need to bite her lip to make it smaller, Hannah let go of my arm. “See you at school.”
“Yeah, see you,” I said, stepping forward so the door could slide shut. The transport whizzed past. For the short walk home, I felt so light I wondered if the planet’s gravity had shifted.
The rest of the week, however, was anything but light. Every day was full of schoolwork, long bike rides, various chores for Noriyuki, and computer-building-related frustration. I could barely stay awake in school, let alone focus, and my mom kept hounding me about where I was all day and what I was doing. Hannah let me borrow notes when I needed them, otherwise I would have failed the two exams I had. I even hung around my mom’s workplace, Moses’ Used Tablets, one afternoon to see if I could learn anything about repairing old technology. Unfortunately, Moses had only ever worked with tablets, and the insides of the tablets he showed me had very little in common with the computer in Noriyuki’s yard. Even though some parts seemed to be cohering into some kind of mechanism, there was no way to know how much progress I’d made until I put enough together to plug it in.
By the last day of the week, I was exhausted and fed up. Two of my teachers had reprimanded me, I slept through lunch three days in a row, and despite having only six more weeks until the Bin-son tournament, Noriyuki had me doing odd jobs around his garden.
When I reached Noriyuki’s home to find a calligraphy note on the door asking me to wash the stone paths all over the garden in a very specific way, I crumpled up the paper and threw it on the ground, shouting in frustration. But ultimately, I picked up the sponge and filled the bucket with water. The sky darkened gradually, and I scrubbed the stones even though they would likely be covered in dirt by the morning.
My only little act of rebellion was to skip computer time and instead sit in the garden with some water to admire the fairy lights. They were like extra stars that floated in the garden.
Right when I was about to get up and leave, I heard a vehicle approach Noriyuki’s house. When I walked around front, Noriyuki was dismounting an autobike I’d never seen before. He smiled when he saw me approaching.
“Where were you all day?” I asked, trying not to sound as annoyed as I was.
“Went out for a swim. Spent some time on my surfboard.”
“You surf?” I really only knew what surfing was because of the amount of kids at school who partook in the activity.
“Only small waves,” Noriyuki said with a laugh. “I am not as young as I once was.”
“Well, maybe I wanted to go surfing. Did you ever think of that?”
Noriyuki shook his head. “No, Slim, you have no time to surf. You are training!”
“I’m not training!” I exploded, gesturing to the clean stones on the path between us. “I’m cleaning your garden and fixing a computer all day! Forget this. I’m going home.” I kicked some dirt onto the stones and started toward my own bike.
“Slim,” Noriyuki said firmly. When I didn’t respond, he repeated my name in a small shout. “Slim! Come back.”
“What?” I turned around to face him.
“Show me how you trim the bush.”
“What?” Was he really asking me to resume my chores after this?
“Show me!”
I made the swinging motion from my shoulder down. At the same time, Noriyuki let out a sort of battle cry and threw a low punch. My arm blocked his punch from landing. He wound up for another punch, and I did the same with my other arm.
“Now, show me how you string the lights.”
Again, I did the motion, this time blocking high punches. And each chore he’d had me do ended up being a blocking move. Noriyuki then began throwing random punches, and the muscle memory of doing these moves a thousand times kicked in as I frantically blocked each hit.
Then he stepped back, allowing me a moment to catch my breath and thoughts. And to feel bad about doubting his intentions. Before I could say anything, Noriyuki put a hand on my shoulder. “Go home. Get rest. Take tomorrow off. Then we start your training again. Okay?”
Having the next day off from training left me feeling a bit aimless, so I reached out to Hannah. I still felt bad about the way I’d acted toward the end of our last date, even though Hannah had assured me she wasn’t mad. This time, though, I wanted to show her something that she’d never seen. Before she even responded, I went to work on my surprise. I was halfway through my second attempt when a message came through on my tablet.
Hannah with an H: I’ve gotta go to some thing for my dad’s work tonight. Meet me after?
Slim: Sure! I have something for you. 😉
Hannah with an H: Ooohhh…. Mysterious…
Hannah with an H: The building is near the beach. I’ll meet you outside. 22:15.
Slim: 👍🏻
Hours later, I stood anxiously outside of a nondescript building that abutted the beach, waiting for Hannah to come out of the door. Once it was twenty minutes beyond our meeting time, I began to pace back and forth between the windows on either side of the door. At 22: 54, I shoved aside my fear of being seen lurking outside and peered through the window, hands cupped around my eyes to get rid of the reflection. Inside were dozens of circular tables laden with food, at which sat nicely dressed adults and presumably their children who had been dragged there.
Hannah’s new haircut made her easy to find, and it was easy to recognize who was seated at her table. None other than Titanium Fist Johnny. He was leaning over and whispering something in Hannah’s ear, and even though she looked annoyed, she was letting him do it.
Then, just like at the Bin-son Boxing Chamber, Johnny’s eyes locked onto mine uncannily fast. He grinned and, when Hannah turned her head to respond, planted a kiss on her lips. Hannah’s head jerked back, hitting the girl next to her squarely in the nose, which immediately gushed blood. Instead of watching the chaos, Johnny looked up at me with a sneer. People were shoving napkins under the girl’s bleeding nose, which was probably in the process of being healed by her healthcare alterations, but Hannah followed Johnny’s gaze to the window and saw me waiting there.
Rage kindled in my chest, fueled by an entire day of laying low, and I stepped away from the window, my hand balling up the paper I was holding. Hannah burst through the door moments later, Johnny on her heels begging her to wait.
“Slim!” she called, out of breath. I continued to walk away, and she didn’t catch up to me until I stopped at the shore, waves lapping at my boots. The waves sounded more like rolling thunder than relaxing white noise. “I didn’t realize what time it was. I’m sorry.”
“Whatever,” I mumbled. “You were busy.”
“Hannah, come back in,” Johnny said from behind her in his whiny voice. I wanted to punch his stupid face and rip off the titanium coating on his fist.
Hannah whirled around to face him, pointing her finger in his face. He stepped back with his hands raised despite their size difference. “Just leave me alone, Johnny.” Then she turned to me. “Is it too late to hang out now? You said you had something for me.”
I tossed the ball of paper to her but kept my eyes on a still hovering Johnny. The paper crinkled as she straightened it out. I’d written her name in my best calligraphy yet; it had taken six tries. Hannah looked to me for an explanation.
Still incensed by what I just witnessed, I shook my head and headed back in the direction of Reseda Complex.
“Slim, wait! Can I walk with you?”
“I’d rather be alone,” I snapped. I couldn’t stop seeing her lips locking with Johnny’s, but I knew she wasn’t the one who deserved my ire. I took a deep breath and faced her more calmly.
My body reeled backward from a strong force. I lost my balance, falling into the water. “Don’t talk to her like that,” Johnny spat, towering over me. He hadn’t even punched me, just shoved my chest. Hannah looked on in shock, hand over her mouth, as I got to my feet in my now sopping wet clothes. But the worst of it all was the tablet resting heavily in my pants pocket. A tablet made in a space station, with no reason to be waterproof.
I swiped my hair off my forehead and pressed my lips together. My eyes stared straight ahead and I marched forward, ignoring Hannah, ignoring Johnny, ignoring the adults who were gathered at the door of the building we’d just fled. I didn’t respond to Hannah’s incessant questions, because even though none of this was Hannah’s fault, she hadn’t done or said anything when Johnny pushed me in the water.
As if to rub in my misfortune, Noriyuki had me meet him at the beach the next day for our training. “After we learn defense, we must learn balance. Your balance is for a space station, but you will be defending yourself on a planet. So you must relearn balance.”
He handed me what looked like the surfboards some of the kids at school had, only wider. He called it a “wake board.” I was to balance on it in increasingly deeper and choppier water. “When you can balance on moving water, you can balance anywhere, okay?”
“Okay,” I agreed, disappointed that we wouldn’t be learning punches or kicks. I really wanted to kick something. I’d learned my lesson, though, and knew that Noriyuki always had a reason for making me do something. So for the rest of our training session, I balanced and fell and balanced and fell, reliving yesterday’s humiliation each time. Each tumble was another shove from Johnny’s titanium fist.
I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t focus.
Shit!
I fell hard on my side, scraping my knee and slamming my hip into the packed sand. I choked on a mouthful of seawater. When I was done coughing, I looked over at Noriyuki to see what he had to say about my failure to keep my head in the game.
But Noriyuki wasn’t paying attention to me. No, he was… he was flying.
TO BE CONTINUED…
-Ryn PB
*This story is a retelling of The Karate Kid (1984).*
Note: I decided to keep the name Johnny from the original film because I love the name. I think it fits the character so well.
As Cool As Mint Ice Cream 