Jumper_ Griffin's Story Part 10

"Could learn a lot from that 'un," Henry said. Henry hadn't made it past the first round.

We watched the Paddington karateka go on to take first, so I couldn't feel too inferior.

Sensei Patel required all of us to partic.i.p.ate in the kata compet.i.tion and I was surprised to take second in the brown belt category. "See?" Sensei said. "Look what happens if you apply yourself a bit." He ruffled my head. The trophy was half as tall as me. It would be a bear on the train.

"A monument. That's what it is," said Henry. "A monument to your greatness."

"To perseverance," Sensei suggested.

After, Sensei checked in with us before he went out to eat with some of the judges and his sensei, over from Okinawa. "You lot all right by yourselves?"

"Of course, Sensei."

"See you after at the hotel, then. No later than ten, right? There's a dance, if you want, or there's the cinema over on Broad Street , right?"

"Right, Sensei."

We changed, dropped our gis and the "monument" in the hotel. Henry was now calling it a "monument to your perverseness." We found a pub where the food wouldn't be "too healthy."

Henry's choice. "S'all we get in dining hall. Veggies, veggies, veggies. With a salad."

Fish and chips were duly ordered and destroyed.

"But this greasy food is going to have me all out in spots, you know," Henry complained after, not a crumb left on his plate.

"And that would change things exactly how?" I was having a bit of trouble with pimples myself but Henry's was a spectacular case, a patchwork of trouble spots that he called his map of Africa. "Anyway," I said, "if you're still getting pimples with all the veggies they're shoveling down you in hall, then I don't see how a few chips are going to make it worse."

Henry swiped my last chip. "Look who's drowning his troubles," he said, jerking his head toward the adjoining bar.

It was Wickes, the disqualified black belt from Coventry. He was sitting in a booth with a halffull pint and two empty mugs. He glanced up and our eyes met. I dropped my eyes and turned back to Henry. "Oi. Guess Mr. Wickes is past eighteen, then."

"Why do that? Lie about your rank. What's he get out of it?"

I shrugged. "Maybe he has a trophy shelf to impress the gels." I glanced sideways briefly, just a flick of the eyes. "He's still looking at us."

"Umm. Well, it's going to be some time before I'm ready for pudding. Let's see what's going at the cinema."

"Suits."

We'd already paid but Henry put down a tip for the barmaid, saying, "Buy yourself one." She laughed at him and I was teasing Henry about it as we cut across the park toward Broad Street .

Wickes was there before us. "Think it was funny, do you?"

I stopped dead. The green was bright enough, from all the lights at the arcade, but there wasn't anyone near us. "I wasn't laughing at you, mate."

"I'm not your mate."

"Right," said Henry. "Not our mate. Don't even know each other." Henry tugged my arm and pulled me away. "Let's go this way, why don't we?" He turned away and I went with him, my back tingling, but it was Henry he kicked first and I swear I heard something break.

I wanted to check Henry but Wickes was turning toward me and I already knew how fast the b.u.g.g.e.r was. I blocked and blocked but his kicks were very strong and they hurt my arms or crashed through, anyway, only partially absorbed by my blocks. I tagged him once, good, with a front thrust kick that pushed him back clutching his side.

"Well, that's better than you did in the match," he said. His grin got nasty. "Guess I won't hold"

I stepped back into zenkutsudachi and executed a gedanbarai, a low block.

He laughed at me. I was still ten feet away, but he began to lift his hands as I stepped forward and punched, face high.

I jumped the interval and my fist smashed into his mouth.

He flew back and didn't get up.

Henry was sitting up clutching his side, his eyes wide. I checked Wickeshe had a pulse, he was breathing, he was bleeding from the mouth, and his eyes were blinking. I pinched his thigh, hard, and he yelped. "Feel that, do you? That's good enough for me." I went back to Henry and helped him up. "You okay, mate?"

"No. I think he broke a rib. And maybe I'm concussed."

I looked at him. "Why do you think that?"

"I blacked out there for a moment, when you hit him. I think. Saw it start, saw it finish"

"What's my name? What's the date? Who's the prime minister?"

"Griff. It's Sat.u.r.day the eighteenth. Tony Sodding Blair."

"Well, maybe you blinked. Should we find a bobby for Mr. Wickes?"

Henry surveyed the spreading blood on Wickes's chin. "No. I think he's got his."

I supported him back to the hotel and found Dr. Kolnick. The doctor was one of the senior members of the dojo, a thirddegree black belt. I think his specialty was cardiology, but he'd spent so much time in the martial arts that he was good for the odd sprain and contusion.

Dr. Kolnick clucked his tongue and took Henry off to CityHospital and had him Xrayed, "to make sure we don't have a broken rib about to poke you in the lung." When the diagnosis turned out to be a hairline crack, he taped Henry up good. He also disinfected my hand. I had a gash below the knuckles I hadn't even noticed.

"Teeth, probably," the doctor said.

Teeth.

We caught our train back in the morning. Henry was stiff and I was sympathetic and tired and p.i.s.sed off. "I don't think we should've turned our backs to him."

"Sod off," said Henry.

It felt weird, that trip. Except for the punch (and what a punch it was!) I didn't jump once. I arrived in Birmingham by train, walked around, and took the train back to London.

It felt... weird. It felt. . . normal.

Maybe normal was what I needed. Maybe I just needed to be in one place, where I only moved around like other people. Hmph. I could just see trying to rent a place. How old are you, kid? Where's your parents? Tell me another.

There was a fuss from Henry's parents about the cracked rib but they and Henry's headmaster ended up with the impression it had happened at the tournament itself and, as Henry said, "Better all around, that."

Sensei Patel wanted to talk to my parents about the fight, as he'd gotten specifics from us. I ended up bringing in a note, ostensibly from my dad, that "Griff discussed the whole thing with us and I appreciate the example you're setting for him. I am concerned about the incident, but believe it far less serious than what football hooligans are doing nowadays. And Griff has learned something from it."

I typed it on a rentacomputer at Kinko's in San Diego and signed it lefthanded, like the previous forms.

Sensei Patel said, "What'd you learn?"

"Don't turn my back."

"Kids!" But he didn't correct me. He did wonder aloud why my dad never came to cla.s.ses or to watch any of the tests like the other parents.

"He's busy. Really busy."

In December, Henry went away, off to Amman for the holidays, and the dojo closed the week between. It was cold that year in London, I mean actual snow and stuff, so I went south, to the remote Bahfa Chacacual. I took Consuelo and Sam with me, and with the dinghy sailed them west, away from La Crucecita, to the fishing village of St. Augustin. It was still only nine miles from the family compound as the crow flies, but thirty miles by road. There was a colectivo that ran inland to the Bahias de Huatulco International Airport and from there they could take the bus into town.

I was supposed to call for them in a week, the same place, weather permitting. That was the plan.

I put back out to sea and sailed east, hugging the coast, past Chacacual, past the little fishing village at Bahfa Maguey, and after studying the sh.o.r.eline carefully with my marine binoculars, on into Santa Cruz Bay with the sunset. There were dozens of dinghies, rigid and inflatable, tied up at the public pier. I stepped my mast before threading my way through them and tying up beneath the pier, where the posts weren't b.u.mpered, but handy to ladder. I tied up and took the binoculars with me.

I wanted to see Alejandra.

It took me an hour to walk back into the hills above La Crucecita proper. I could've done it in thirty minutes if I hadn't been avoiding people and cars, but too many here knew my face.

I'd changed a bit. It was almost three years since I'd left and I was taller. I wore a baseball hat and a light jacket with the collar pulled up. It was windy and cool enough to justify the jacket. The offsh.o.r.e wind had been good for sailing flat water, stiff breezebut now it shook the trees and made it easy to imagine every sound an enemy.

The compound was lit up for a fiesta, a fire at the open end of the courtyard and lights strung across. I could hear music and the food smelled fantastic.

My stomach rumbled. I'd even eat chapulines about now.

I moved closer, working down through the brush; then, when the building blocked the way, I moved up into an old ahuehuete tree, using its thick trunk to shield my body, until I had a good view of the courtyard with the binocs.

There was Consuelo and Sam and her mother, Sefiora Monjarraz y Romera, and Alejandra's mother, Sefiora Monjarraz y Losada. Then I saw Rodrigo and a girl I remembered him chasing a few summers before, and then Alejandra came out of the house with a tray of food, with her cousin Marianna carrying another.

I stopped breathing for a moment. Alejandra was as beautiful as ever.

And she was okay.

I'd had reports, through Consuelo, but something inside of me must've still doubted, for I nearly choked on a sob. I blinked hard for a minute, then I could see properly again.

More cars and people made their way up the winding dirt road and the party expanded as the extended family and friends kept arriving. Most I recognized, though I would've been hardpressed to come up with names, but there was a man who arrived with takeout from Sabor de HuatulcoI recognized the bag even if I didn't know him.

Rodrigo greeted him like some longlost relative and I thought perhaps that's what he was, but then Rodrigo took him over and introduced him to Sam and Consuelo. I saw Sam's eyes narrow even though he smiled and shook hands, and while Consuelo looked polite, I'd seen her greet total strangers with more warmth.

I'd lay odds this was the new bellman from the Hotel Villa Blancathe one who'd watched Alejandra's house while she was away.

I wanted to punch him, like I punched Wickes in Birmingham. Or jump him to the Isla la Montosa. Or that field with the bull in Oxfordshire.

Fat lot of good that would do.

Even if I killed him it would just draw them here in force, maybe s.n.a.t.c.hing Alejandra or Sam or Consuelo. Or all of them.

A piece of bark came off the branch where I'd been gripping it and I nearly fell out of the tree, nearly dropped the binocs.

I walked back into Santa Cruz and risked buying a meal at one of the tourist places, only speaking English. By the time I was finished, a threequarter moon was rising, giving me enough light to sail back to Bahia Chacacual, though it was after midnight by the time I got there and jumped the dinghy back to the Hole.

They weren't back in St. Augustin the next week so I found a public phone and called the family compound, as arranged, and asked for Senora Consuelo. She was a while coming and I felt like something terrible must've happened but then she was there.

"Bueno?"

"Hola, Tia. i Quieres tomar el sol en la play a mahana ? "

I didn't know if they were listening. Consuelo had several nephews so calling her aunt might throw them off. It would at least leave it in doubt. And she liked to sunbathe on the beach, or at least walk up and down the sh.o.r.e with the water washing over her ankles.

"Nopuedo ir. Volamos a casa mahana." So, they were being watched. The b.a.s.t.a.r.ds might have checked the flight manifests into Huatulco and not found Sam and Consuelo.

Anyway, they were going to fly home and not risk meeting up with me again. Not in Oaxaca.

"Que lastima. Vaya con Dios."

"Debes tener cuidado."

"Usted tambien."

Yeah, we'd all have to be careful.

Henry came back from the hols and brought me a little wooden horse, rearing, six inches high. "Merry Christmas and all that. It's olive wood. Didn't really know what you'd want."

I was touched but of course I couldn't show it. "Thanks. Didn't have to. I've got something for you, but it's back in me Hole. Bring it to cla.s.s Thursday." I went to cla.s.s most days, but for Henry it was Tuesday, Thursday, and odd Sat.u.r.days.

I didn't really have something for him. I'd bought something for Sam and Consuelo, and for Alejandra (mailed by Consuelo), but the season depressed me and I'd avoided the shopping crowds, the decorations, and the songs.

In Thailand, mostly.

In p.h.u.ket I was doing the same thing I did in Huatulco I'd picked a remote jump site, in this case a little island called Ko Bon off Rawai. A resort on p.h.u.ket proper considered it their "private" island but I'd arrive on the south end, away from their salas and loungers and the honeymoon suite (though I watched some skinnydipping once) and put my dinghy in the water and sail a half hour over to Chalong, avoiding the resorts.

I brought Henry a Thai Buddha head carved from raintree wood, gold leaf on the headdress thingy, pendulous earlobes and slitted eyes over a smiling mouth. It was the smile that made me buy it. Unlike the others, it was practically jolly.

He blinked when he opened it. "Very cool. How'd you know?"

"Know what?"

"I've got a shrine in my room. I'm not really Buddhist, but it's how I get out of Sunday chapel."

"You bleeding hypocrite!" I laughed.

He shrugged and smiled. "Yeah, well, you haven't had to listen to those b.l.o.o.d.y sermons on those b.l.o.o.d.y benches, have you? I'm all bony."

I shook my head. We were having our regular cuppa after but instead of walking, we were sticking to a corner table at the Expres...o...b..r. It was sleeting outside.

He opened his backpack to wedge the Buddha down inside with his gi. He pulled out a book to make room and I flipped through it. "Ugh. Exponents and polynomials. That was an ugly two weeks. Nearly ate me head."

"Was? Are you past this? I'm in advanced math, my form!"