The white blur comes swift and you block your side with your leg. The Brown belt tries again, but your leg is down.
“Uh!” You grunt, then yell, “Ha!” and launch your left fist into her abdomen. She fails to see it and gives an audible grunt, still standing. You continue your barrages of attacks.
“Go, Haneul!”
Left jab, right jab, left, left, right, shin kick, side kick-
No-
Pain erupts in your head and you’re staring at a spotty version of the bright brown wooden floor.
“Very good, Symone!” Sensei’s voice echoes around the big room, booming over the shouts from the other sparring matches. The black belts beside him clap. Your vision returns to normal, but the pain from her roundhouse kick keeps the left side of your skull buzzing.
You both keep at it, senses focusing only on each other.
Right, left, right, right, left, side, shin-
Her shin hits your arm – another roundhouse kick – and you rocket your right fist into her stomach.
“Ugh!” She grunts in pain and stumbles back. The black belts clap for you this time.
She steps forward and you both continue the punches, kicks, and blocks for the next few minutes until Sensei yells stop. He gets you all to line up in rows and do breathing exercises. As you breathe in and out, the adrenaline dies down and your perception widens. The smell of sweat lingers in the air, sparks of excitement fizzling in the atmosphere. The black belts are in front of you, leading the breathing session. The sound of Symone’s soft gasping from your right stands out of the tired breaths of twenty-something lower ranking belts from behind you. From within, the adrenaline is replaced by a mixture of pain, fatigue, and pride.
“Very good, everyone.” Sensei says, ending the session. “It is now time to present your new belts.”
You’ve only been a Brown belt for less than a year, but this is the night you’re hoping your training will pay off.
“Symone Edwards.”
Are you ready?
“Haneul Jung.”
‘That’s me!’ Your eyes widen in realization and a grin spreads across your face as you walk as well as you can manage to the front of the room. Alicia presents you with a folded up pitch black belt.
“Great job,” she says, putting the belt in your open palms.
“Thanks,” you reply. You smile at each other for another moment before you walk back to your spot, next to Symone. It’s unclear if the lightness in your head is due to Symone’s roundhouse or your happiness, but you can’t care less!
As Sensei gives his finishing speech, you look over to the benches, instantly picking out your parents. Mom is aiming her phone, Dad is waving to you, and Mioh... isn't there. You turn back to face Sensei and try to keep smiling.528Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnMBpgpOZjf
After karate ends everyone goes into the public bathrooms and private spare rooms to change. You put on your burgundy sweater with white arm designs and stuff your dirty white gi uniform and belts into a plastic bag, gaze lingering into the black one. You walk out of the stall and bathroom, your grey socks making you silent like a ninja. Or maybe that’s because it’s time for the younger class to start and elementary schoolers are now yelling in the hallways. You walk behind one rambunctious group of kids down the hallway and make a turn to the doors where the coats, boots, and Alicia are waiting for you.
“Taking your sweet time, I see,” She says. “Been staring at your new belt?”
“Eh, maybe.” You were staring at it for probably a few seconds. Few minutes, give or take.
“Well, this calls for a celebration!” Alicia dramatically whips her dark purple scarf around her neck and leads you out the doors. “Before our parents left, Dad told me some good news: he finally got that job to renovate that big house next door.”
“You mean the blue one?”
“Periwinkle,” she corrects, like any aspiring graphic designer would. “The light periwinkle house.” Her breath wisps out of her mouth like phantoms and disappear into the black sky. “He’s going to renovate it on the weekend, but we can check it out tomorrow, after classes.”
“Maybe find out what really happened in the house,” you say, smile stretching across your face. Alicia returns it, albeit a nervous one.
“Doubt it,” she quips. “Most of the O’Brian Family was murdered half a century ago and that boy died right after.”
“Two years after,” you correct her. “The neighbours found Tom banging on their door at 4:17 in the morning.” You can picture the wisps of your breaths as a nine-year-old boy reaching out to an elderly couple. “He said he saw something scary in the new mirror he got and ran to his parents’ room. But they didn’t wake up, so he went to his older sister’s room – Diana O’Brian – but she wasn’t there. Just some strange writing on the walls. He couldn’t find her in the house, so he ran out in his pajamas to the neighbours.”
“That’s when they went into the house and found out the parents were dead.”
“Yeah. The old couple didn’t think to keep the kid at the house. They took him with them and they all saw, with the lights on, the slashed up corpses.” A chill grabs your spine as your imagination brings out the many scenarios at what Tom probably saw. “The boy was so traumatized he had to go to a mental institution and committed suicide there.” There’s that chill again. You would be lying to say that you hate that feeling when reading murder stories, but that’s actually part of the thrill. One of the few interesting things in this small town.
“You may not get to.”
“Whys that?”
“Dad told me he checked it this morning and found out that the door that leads to the second floor was bolted shut. We’re just going to fix up the first floor and get more help with the upper floors another time.”
You stop in your tracks and Alicia turns back to you.
“Seriously?”
“Sorry, Haneul,” she says with fake sympathy. “No exploring murder scenes for you tomorrow.”
“So much for a celebration,” you grumble and start walking again.
“Oh, don’t be like that! Moms gonna be cooking breakfast, lunch, and dinner between her commissions, with Irish Stew for the day.”
Oh man, Ms. Douglas’ Irish Stew! Peas, sweet potatoes, beef, and her special combination of spices that you still haven’t completely deduced! Your mouth waters at the thought of that not only for lunch, but dinner, too. It’s been your favourite food ever since Mioh left the house and stopped making her Korean barbecue salad.
“Heh, I’ll make sure to get up bright and early, then!”
“Not too early. I want to sleep in,” she says and turns away to walk down her street. “See ya!”
“See ya, good night!” You watch her walking away, her scarf flowing behind her. Your gaze lingers from it to the big house beside hers. The street lamps cast a yellow glow, basking everything in a warm light. It hits the house in a strange way, but you’ve deduced that it’s because of that particular shade of blue.
You continue to walk down the street, coming up with a list of what to pack for tomorrow.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
