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Aug. 8th, 2006 01:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gone_byebyeAugust 10, 2006
Wind School Isshin Kenpo Dojo
Bellmore, New York
Early Evening
Something was going on. Of that, Catherine was sure. By now there ought to have been a cluster of adults and uniformed kids on the sidewalk outside the school. At the very least there should've been a few adults hanging around waiting. Sensei Chris and Sensei Darren usually had their Monday early classes get out around the same time. But no; the sidewalk was empty, and she didn't see anyone through the front window that opened onto the room for adult classes, either. Very strange.
Really, she should've been home by now. Ray had come out to the Island because it was a slow day in Manhattan, and he'd offered to walk Joey over to the dojo to pick up his brother. It was well past the end of class, though, and according to Alan's text message Ray wasn't back yet. Maybe something had happened? Or- and this was more likely, now that she thought about it- maybe Sensei Chris had a guest instructor turn up at the last minute? That would explain the lack of other parents. They wound up watching when stuff like that happened, more often than not. And it would be a point in her brother's favor, too. Ray might be flighty, but he knew better than to interrupt a class by making a phone call; his lack of notification was a measure of respect for someone else, not irresponsibility towards her. She could live with that.
She pulled her Prius into the parking lot and got out, silently counting over the other vehicles. It looked as if nearly all the students' parents, at least, were still here. That pointed in the direction of the guest instructor hypothesis. Satisfied for the moment, she headed into the school and down the left-hand corridor. Sure enough, there was a knot of parents and kids alike clustered outside the dojo's interior window. Several of them, in fact, had their faces pressed up against the glass. There were too many for her to get a clear glimpse of what was going on-
"Mom?" said her younger son's voice. She looked down. "What're you doing here?"
"Daddy called and said you and your brother weren't home yet, Joey," she answered. "I thought I'd see if you guys were okay."
"Mom, you gotta see this," said Alex's voice. He was still in his uniform, though his beginner's belt was carelessly loose and threatening to fall off. He didn't turn his face away from the window for an instant. "Uncle Ray's fighting the sensei."
"What?"
How she got there she didn't know. One minute she was standing several yards down the corridor. The next, a cluster of parents was closing behind her and she had both hands on the glass. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me," she muttered, staring at the incongruity before her.
Sensei Chris was a man of middle years or later, possibly in his late forties, possibly his early fifties. It was hard to tell by looking at him, and nobody really wanted to outright ask, since he had been part of the art of isshin kenpo since its foundation. He was tall, a little on the gangly side, and his hair and mustache were best described as iron grey. She'd had the privilege of seeing him in action a few years ago at the YWCA, where she'd seen him hold off all of the black belts from the previous two karate instructors' classes in turn. As she remembered it, he'd barely broken a sweat. She didn't remember seeing him use a wooden sword, but that hadn't really been relevant at the time. It was relevant now. Apparently he'd had one on the premises, because he was using one now.
No. Two. She refused to believe that even a weirdo like her brother routinely carried around a wooden sword of his own. That had to be school property. And what was more disturbing was-
"Is he winning?" she wondered aloud, in something like horror and something like awe.
"I don't think so," said the parent next to her, a short, stubby fellow she'd only seen once or twice before. "But it doesn't look like he's losing, either."
"Good lord... How long have they been at it?"
"Close to five minutes now- oh, you jinxed it..."
There was a sword on the floor, rolling away across the polished hardwood to come to a stop up against the wall with the mirrors. Catherine winced. Ray, she thought, don't do anything stupid.
There was a moment of silence. Then her brother grinned (that big, guileless grin he'd had since they were kids and he'd been convinced she could be a brilliant designer of peroxide-powered backyard rockets if only she would read the right books), set his own sword aside, and bowed to the weaponless sensei.
As the round of applause went up from parents and students alike all she could think was, I cannot WAIT to hear how THIS happened.
Wind School Isshin Kenpo Dojo
Bellmore, New York
Early Evening
Something was going on. Of that, Catherine was sure. By now there ought to have been a cluster of adults and uniformed kids on the sidewalk outside the school. At the very least there should've been a few adults hanging around waiting. Sensei Chris and Sensei Darren usually had their Monday early classes get out around the same time. But no; the sidewalk was empty, and she didn't see anyone through the front window that opened onto the room for adult classes, either. Very strange.
Really, she should've been home by now. Ray had come out to the Island because it was a slow day in Manhattan, and he'd offered to walk Joey over to the dojo to pick up his brother. It was well past the end of class, though, and according to Alan's text message Ray wasn't back yet. Maybe something had happened? Or- and this was more likely, now that she thought about it- maybe Sensei Chris had a guest instructor turn up at the last minute? That would explain the lack of other parents. They wound up watching when stuff like that happened, more often than not. And it would be a point in her brother's favor, too. Ray might be flighty, but he knew better than to interrupt a class by making a phone call; his lack of notification was a measure of respect for someone else, not irresponsibility towards her. She could live with that.
She pulled her Prius into the parking lot and got out, silently counting over the other vehicles. It looked as if nearly all the students' parents, at least, were still here. That pointed in the direction of the guest instructor hypothesis. Satisfied for the moment, she headed into the school and down the left-hand corridor. Sure enough, there was a knot of parents and kids alike clustered outside the dojo's interior window. Several of them, in fact, had their faces pressed up against the glass. There were too many for her to get a clear glimpse of what was going on-
"Mom?" said her younger son's voice. She looked down. "What're you doing here?"
"Daddy called and said you and your brother weren't home yet, Joey," she answered. "I thought I'd see if you guys were okay."
"Mom, you gotta see this," said Alex's voice. He was still in his uniform, though his beginner's belt was carelessly loose and threatening to fall off. He didn't turn his face away from the window for an instant. "Uncle Ray's fighting the sensei."
"What?"
How she got there she didn't know. One minute she was standing several yards down the corridor. The next, a cluster of parents was closing behind her and she had both hands on the glass. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me," she muttered, staring at the incongruity before her.
Sensei Chris was a man of middle years or later, possibly in his late forties, possibly his early fifties. It was hard to tell by looking at him, and nobody really wanted to outright ask, since he had been part of the art of isshin kenpo since its foundation. He was tall, a little on the gangly side, and his hair and mustache were best described as iron grey. She'd had the privilege of seeing him in action a few years ago at the YWCA, where she'd seen him hold off all of the black belts from the previous two karate instructors' classes in turn. As she remembered it, he'd barely broken a sweat. She didn't remember seeing him use a wooden sword, but that hadn't really been relevant at the time. It was relevant now. Apparently he'd had one on the premises, because he was using one now.
No. Two. She refused to believe that even a weirdo like her brother routinely carried around a wooden sword of his own. That had to be school property. And what was more disturbing was-
"Is he winning?" she wondered aloud, in something like horror and something like awe.
"I don't think so," said the parent next to her, a short, stubby fellow she'd only seen once or twice before. "But it doesn't look like he's losing, either."
"Good lord... How long have they been at it?"
"Close to five minutes now- oh, you jinxed it..."
There was a sword on the floor, rolling away across the polished hardwood to come to a stop up against the wall with the mirrors. Catherine winced. Ray, she thought, don't do anything stupid.
There was a moment of silence. Then her brother grinned (that big, guileless grin he'd had since they were kids and he'd been convinced she could be a brilliant designer of peroxide-powered backyard rockets if only she would read the right books), set his own sword aside, and bowed to the weaponless sensei.
As the round of applause went up from parents and students alike all she could think was, I cannot WAIT to hear how THIS happened.
