Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Challenge 2: Don't fall in love

Step. Turn. Weave. Duck.

No, that’s not right, do it again.

Stop looking at him like that. Don’t think about how nice it would be to run your hands over those firm, perfect muscles.

Duck!

Kick, now. Take advantage of his weak left leg, he hurt that yesterday in that bout with Sono. Great, now close. No, dodge, he was faking.

Idiot, see it coming in future. Don’t let him get to you. Take it like a man, don’t let him see you cry, ever. Get your bag. Take off your gee. No, not here, in the bathroom. Hide in one of the toilets. Don’t think about him looking at you, judging you. Don’t get your hopes up.

Make sure to listen to music all the way home. It’s dark, so hum under your breath, it keeps the devils away. Remember to feed the neighbour’s cat since the old bat is coming home in the morning. Lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering whether he can even see you. Practice writing his name in your diary, in pencil so you can erase it again. Go over your bout, again and again, looking for all the ways you slipped up. Dwell on that bloody arrogant smirk. Remind yourself that he thinks you are useless, a girl, unworthy to be on the Karate team.

Wake up with the sun. Go through your Kata before breakfast. Look for your centre. Balance. Do it again.

Shower. Don’t look in the mirror. Don’t wonder what life would be like if your weren’t a blue eyed white girl with fuzzy witch hair. Don’t waste your time trying to be beautiful or resent the others for being perfect without trying. Just keep moving, keep focused.

Eat before you leave, breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Give your mother a kiss and notice the way she watches you leave from the window. Don’t wonder why she looks nothing like you, it doesn’t matter.

Pause by the school gates and breathe, it will be okay. Try your hardest in class, don’t be discouraged by your complete inaptitude for Japanese. Push aside any homesickness. You are stuck here, so make the best of it.

Pull out your lunchbox. Whisper a prayer of thanks to your mother for her hard work. Remember, before you gag on the sashimi, that there are starving children in Africa who would love to have so much food. Don’t think too hard about that. Don’t wonder whether your sashimi should really be sent airmail to Africa. Ignore the girls at the next table who are glancing at you over their shoulders and giggling.

Slow down heart.

Smile politely.

Don’t ask him what he is doing sitting at your table, you will sound like an idiot. Breathe. Nod. Listen to him as he tells you your hair is against regulation and you should cut it off. Laugh nervously and hope he doesn’t mean it. Don’t get too lost in those damn honey brown eyes, staring at you with that bloody secret smile.

Wordcount: 509

No comments:

Post a Comment