Read Online You Will Call Me Drog by Sue Cowing - Free Book Online
Authors: Sue Cowing
Tags: Retail, Ages 9 & Up
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wearing baggy pants and a sweatshirt faded to the color of strawberry Jell-O powder. The old Montgomery Furniture sign still showed on the storefront window, but I couldn’t see in. I stretched my sweatshirt sleeve down to cover Drog and opened the door.
The thick white paper covering the storefront windows glowed from the late afternoon light trying to shine through. There was no furniture at all inside, just a clean, bare wood floor, partly covered by one big tumbling mat and one small one off to the side.
An older girl, dressed in white with an orange cloth tied around her waist, knelt on the floor barefoot, facing a scroll of swirly black writing on the front wall. I took off my shoes and socks too. The floor felt cool and smooth.
Pretty soon other kids came in, and we waited off to the side without talking. The place was just naturally quiet and calm. I couldn’t believe I was still in Ferrisburg. It was like being snowed in. And I was about to learn the secret of flying through the air without getting hurt, like those people I saw at the Y!
Sensei entered through a side door and bowed to us. Right away the girl in white bowed back, and we copied her.
“Let’s begin with a concentration exercise,” Sensei said.
“Let’s get out of here,” Drog mumbled in my sleeve. “I believe we have a previous—”
But I was concentrating already, more awake than I ever felt in school. I pulled my sleeve down more.
“I see most of you are new,” Sensei said, so let’s begin with our one-point, not because it is for beginners, but because it is the most important thing. In aikido we aim to create harmony. To do that we must always balance and focus, putting our attention on our one-point, our center. Yours is located directly below your navel, about two inches below. Know where that point is and put your mind there as often as you can.”
I had to smile. Finding my center would be easy. Because two inches below my belly button was my only other mole.
“Now place your hand over your center and breathe slowly in and out.”
I covered my mole with my right hand.
“As you breathe, say one-point one-point...”
We all breathed and mumbled the words.
“Good,” Sensei said. “Do this many times a day until you can do it without using your hand or saying the words out loud.
“That’s it. Remember, whenever you need to balance or calm yourself, on or off the mat, repeat, ‘one-point one-point.’ That is the beginning of your practice. Tomorrow you will learn the first roll.”
Next he and the girl with the orange sash demonstrated that first roll, plus a lot of throws and rolls that he would be teaching in the coming months. Sensei kept saying how important it was to focus and relax. Finally he taught us five different stretches we could do at home and before class to stay flexible and avoid injury. He explained how to sign up if we decided to and measured each of us for the uniform, the
gi.
Then he bowed to dismiss us.
Drog pestered me on the way home. “One-point, gunpoint. I’m not taking a fall, no matter what Pansy says!”
“It’s not Pansy, Drog, it’s Sensei, and besides, nobody’s supposed to get hurt, remember? I’ll figure out something.”
“You?”
Mom agreed to give me money for my
gi
and lessons. That night I dug around in the bathroom cupboard and found an old Ace bandage Dad used to use for his basketball knee. It would have to work.
The next day at school I had a new problem. The minute the bell rang, someone called out, “Good morning, kiddies!” in a Drog-like voice.
Gordy was the only one who laughed.
“Settle down, Parker,” Mrs. Belcher said, frowning.
But it wasn’t me. It wasn’t Drog either.
During math, the same voice called out silly answers like, “There are two and a half centipedes in an inch” and “We reduce fractions because they’re so fat.”
“Parker?” Mrs. Belcher said. “Didn’t we have an agreement?”
Wren turned around and waved at
The thick white paper covering the storefront windows glowed from the late afternoon light trying to shine through. There was no furniture at all inside, just a clean, bare wood floor, partly covered by one big tumbling mat and one small one off to the side.
An older girl, dressed in white with an orange cloth tied around her waist, knelt on the floor barefoot, facing a scroll of swirly black writing on the front wall. I took off my shoes and socks too. The floor felt cool and smooth.
Pretty soon other kids came in, and we waited off to the side without talking. The place was just naturally quiet and calm. I couldn’t believe I was still in Ferrisburg. It was like being snowed in. And I was about to learn the secret of flying through the air without getting hurt, like those people I saw at the Y!
Sensei entered through a side door and bowed to us. Right away the girl in white bowed back, and we copied her.
“Let’s begin with a concentration exercise,” Sensei said.
“Let’s get out of here,” Drog mumbled in my sleeve. “I believe we have a previous—”
But I was concentrating already, more awake than I ever felt in school. I pulled my sleeve down more.
“I see most of you are new,” Sensei said, so let’s begin with our one-point, not because it is for beginners, but because it is the most important thing. In aikido we aim to create harmony. To do that we must always balance and focus, putting our attention on our one-point, our center. Yours is located directly below your navel, about two inches below. Know where that point is and put your mind there as often as you can.”
I had to smile. Finding my center would be easy. Because two inches below my belly button was my only other mole.
“Now place your hand over your center and breathe slowly in and out.”
I covered my mole with my right hand.
“As you breathe, say one-point one-point...”
We all breathed and mumbled the words.
“Good,” Sensei said. “Do this many times a day until you can do it without using your hand or saying the words out loud.
“That’s it. Remember, whenever you need to balance or calm yourself, on or off the mat, repeat, ‘one-point one-point.’ That is the beginning of your practice. Tomorrow you will learn the first roll.”
Next he and the girl with the orange sash demonstrated that first roll, plus a lot of throws and rolls that he would be teaching in the coming months. Sensei kept saying how important it was to focus and relax. Finally he taught us five different stretches we could do at home and before class to stay flexible and avoid injury. He explained how to sign up if we decided to and measured each of us for the uniform, the
gi.
Then he bowed to dismiss us.
Drog pestered me on the way home. “One-point, gunpoint. I’m not taking a fall, no matter what Pansy says!”
“It’s not Pansy, Drog, it’s Sensei, and besides, nobody’s supposed to get hurt, remember? I’ll figure out something.”
“You?”
Mom agreed to give me money for my
gi
and lessons. That night I dug around in the bathroom cupboard and found an old Ace bandage Dad used to use for his basketball knee. It would have to work.
The next day at school I had a new problem. The minute the bell rang, someone called out, “Good morning, kiddies!” in a Drog-like voice.
Gordy was the only one who laughed.
“Settle down, Parker,” Mrs. Belcher said, frowning.
But it wasn’t me. It wasn’t Drog either.
During math, the same voice called out silly answers like, “There are two and a half centipedes in an inch” and “We reduce fractions because they’re so fat.”
“Parker?” Mrs. Belcher said. “Didn’t we have an agreement?”
Wren turned around and waved at
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