SAVANNAH TAYLOR

The rest of school passed in a happy blur. There was something about Daniel that left me wanting to break my rule about not making friends.

When I got home, I made cornbread and, mindful of Tim’s complaint, chili with more meat than beans. The salad, I knew, would just be for my mom and me. Even as my hands washed and chopped and stirred, my thoughts were consumed with thoughts of Daniel. His brown eyes with flecks of gold. His long-fingered hands. How he was just the perfect height, so that if for some reason we ever hugged, I would be able to tuck my head under his chin.

Like always, I ate before Tim got home. Then I put a lid on the chili and left the cornbread in the oven so it would still be warm for him.

I sprawled on my bed and did homework. I tried to stay in my room as much as possible, especially when my mom was at work and it was only Tim and me. When I finally heard the front door open, it was a half hour later than normal. He must have had to hitch a ride from one of the other guys at the shop. Tonight he didn’t even try to talk to me, which was a relief. Out in the kitchen, I could hear him muttering to himself, but not the actual words. Then the TV went on.

I checked my phone. Almost time to go to class. Once it started getting dark earlier, my mom had wanted Tim to drive me, but we both insisted that wasn’t necessary. And now of course he couldn’t. I changed into my green T-shirt and black athletic pants, then put my book and my orange belt in my backpack. It was really more of a sash, black cotton fabric with an orange stripe sewn around one end. Passing the test for it a month ago had been one of the proudest days of my life.

That evening, a couple of other students at my dojo had also tested for orange. All of us were required to demonstrate our skills before three black belts. I only knew one of them, my teacher, Sifu Terry. But that night he was just as expressionless as the other two men closely watching us.

Off the mats, the room was filled with friends, family, and higher-ranked students. Since my mom was at work, I was alone in the crowd. The room started to feel like it was too small, like all the oxygen was used up. Claustrophobia was kicking in. With every passing minute, I felt more and more anxious. It was all I could do not to run outside.

By the time the test started, my mouth was dry, my hands damp. I vowed to be perfect but instead made mistakes. So many mistakes. In one of the forms, I punched with my left hand instead of my right. I lost my balance doing a roundhouse kick and had to set my foot down. When we were asked to demonstrate a low block, out of the corner of my eye I saw that the other students were holding their arms in a different position. Each mistake left me more flushed and faltering than the last. By the end of the test, I was blinking back tears.

It had been a shock to still be awarded the rank, to go through the ceremony of kneeling between two rows of flickering tea lights in an otherwise darkened room, and then fumblingly tie the belt after Sifu handed it to me as everyone applauded.

Now I zipped up my backpack. Class started in twenty minutes, and it took about twelve minutes to walk to the dojo. With luck, before class Daniel and I would talk some more about Bruce Lee.

As I walked into the living room, Tim was slumped on the couch, watching football, still wearing his mechanic’s coveralls. At his feet were several empty beer bottles, his kicked-off work boots, an ashtray filled with butts, and a dirty bowl and plate.

He looked very little like the pictures of the man my mom had showed me. The blue eyes she had exclaimed over all but disappeared when he narrowed them. In the pictures, his shaved head had made him look tough, but now I knew that if he skipped running a razor over it for a day or two, it was clear he was just going bald.

Not sounding like he particularly cared, he mumbled, “Where’re you going?”

Even if Tim couldn’t remember my schedule, my T-shirt emblazoned with the school’s logo was a pretty big clue. “The same place I go three nights a week.” I pulled on my coat, then leaned down to get my backpack and hat. When I straightened up, Tim was right in front of me. I hadn’t even heard him get up. I sucked in a breath and took a half step back.

“Are you disrespecting me?” he said through gritted teeth.

I lifted my empty hands in a placating gesture. “I’m just going to kung fu class.”

“Class!” He made a raspberry sound. “That class is giving you unrealistic expectations. In the real world, you’re a little girl with a big mouth.” He grinned without humor. “And anyone could do anything they want to you. That class is just putting ideas in your head.”

A pit opened in my stomach. Kung fu was the one good thing in my life right now.

“But I’m paying for it with my babysitting money.” My inflection rose at the end like it was a question.

His face changed, and I knew I’d made a mistake. “And now you’re definitely talking back. You’re grounded.”

“Grounded?” My voice broke in disbelief. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so stupid. I didn’t do any of the bad things I heard other kids at my school talking about. I didn’t get drunk or use drugs or shoplift or sneak out at night.

Tim snorted, and I had the image of a cartoon bull pawing the ground, ready to charge. “Yes. Grounded. You live under my roof.” He stabbed a finger at me. “You eat my food, you sleep on sheets that I paid for. But you act like you can do whatever you want. You’re nothing but a spoiled brat that doesn’t know how to be grateful for what she has. So I guess I’m going to have to teach you. Grounded means you go to school and you come straight home. And you don’t go anyplace else.”

I locked my teeth around the words I wanted to spit at him. My mom would see how stupid this was. I pulled my phone from my pocket and started a text.

Tim snatched my phone from my hand. “Grounded means you don’t have a phone.”

Surprising even myself, I ran for the door.

When you feel pain, you know that you are still alive.

—BRUCE LEE

SAVANNAH TAYLOR

As Tim reached for me, I yanked open the front door and ran out. When his fingers grazed my shoulder, I twisted away in midair. Fear gave my feet wings.

I pounded down the porch steps, with him only a few steps behind. He cursed when his bare feet met the sharp gravel of the driveway. I kept running even after I heard him limp to a stop. He was still yelling threats and swears.

It was another block before I burst into tears. My pace finally slowed to a walk. What had I done? I should have just pretended to accept Tim’s stupid rule for one night and then gotten my mom to sweet-talk him out of it. But now that I had openly defied him, he would dig in his heels. Sure, I’d make it to kung fu tonight, but it could easily be my last class.

And even if my mom managed to persuade Tim to let me go again, it wouldn’t fix things for long. Soon she would start looking again for the Prince Charming she was always sure was out there just waiting for her. And then we would move to some other town. When everything I cared about was here.

My breath came in hitching gasps, hanging in a white cloud in front of my face. I had to compose myself before I got to class. The cold air scoured my lungs, but my face still felt red and hot. I dried my eyes on the puffy sleeve of my coat.

With each block, the neighborhood had been changing. The houses were now interspersed with small businesses closed up for the night. I passed a day care, then a row of town houses. The warm yellow light streaming from their windows somehow made me feel even more alone.