skid.
I jump down into the pit, getting my Etnies all orange with dirt. He rides down the incline into the pit after me, and kamikaze falls off his bike, leaving it to crash into the other side of the pit. He rolls on the ground and comes to a stop on his back. His shirt pulls up and I can see his side corrugated with the impression of his ribs. The fall knocks the wind out of him. He looks vulnerable.
The street lamp flips on. The light has a strange sort of yellow buzz to it and the colors of the dirt and his hair and skin look more intense.
It turned on for us. There’s no one else around and no one lives here to need it. It turned on to help me see Clay, to help me stare at him. He’s one of the wonders of the world, along with Halong Bay and the Great Wall of China.
He catches his breath and gets up. He tries to look tough and unaffected by wiping the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve and then scrunching it up again above his shoulder. “It’s all about knowing how to take a fall. Wanna learn the best move ever for defending yourself?”
“Sure.”
He stands behind me and holds my arms out. The heat from his body radiates through his clothes and warms my skin. His chest muscles flex and tighten against my back. “OK, bring this hand up. Stand up straight. Stomach in, shoulders back. Think of your head being pulled to the sky.”
I let my body go as he directs me.
“Good.” He pulls my arm back. “Now, bring this forward and slice the air here.” He pushes my arm forward, slicing through the still air. “Like that.”
It feels good and powerful and efficient, like a strong punch and at the same time, a beautiful, artistic stroke.
“Now, try it alone.” He walks in front of me and folds his arms.
I feel like I’m auditioning for him. I raise my arm and as hard as I can, bring it forward though the air. I lose my footing and fall onto my back with a thud. It’s horrible, the most uncoordinated stupid thing I could do. I feel my face turn red.
He leans down and looks me over. “All right?” He examines my face. “There’s something in your eye.”
I want to reach up and kiss him.
Supporting himself with one arm, Clay rubs a piece of grit from my eye. “You’ll get it. That’s the most important movement in Karate.” His eyes dart and move around my face.
“I like it though. It’s cool. It’s like art.”
He sits down and looks into the sky. “Exactly man. That’s what people don’t get. It’s art… it’s beautiful.” He looks at me in a long, strange moment of quiet. A bird chirps overhead and breaks it. “Oh, man, this party. We have to motor.”
We get into the truck. He turns the radio on to some punk rock song and cranks the volume up high. He lights up a cigarette.
I drop my lighter and it hits my knee and bounces to his side of the floor, near his feet and the gas pedal. I lean over to get it and smell him on the way down.
We turn a corner and I see the party. It’s totally wild. Cars are parked all over the place. Kids are scattered through the yard. A guy carries a keg on his shoulders onto the front porch. The house is built on stilts and it looks like it might fall down from all the people bursting out the front door. A guy and a girl are on top of each other, making out under the house. I feel a wave of insecurity.
I jump down into the pit, getting my Etnies all orange with dirt. He rides down the incline into the pit after me, and kamikaze falls off his bike, leaving it to crash into the other side of the pit. He rolls on the ground and comes to a stop on his back. His shirt pulls up and I can see his side corrugated with the impression of his ribs. The fall knocks the wind out of him. He looks vulnerable.
The street lamp flips on. The light has a strange sort of yellow buzz to it and the colors of the dirt and his hair and skin look more intense.
It turned on for us. There’s no one else around and no one lives here to need it. It turned on to help me see Clay, to help me stare at him. He’s one of the wonders of the world, along with Halong Bay and the Great Wall of China.
He catches his breath and gets up. He tries to look tough and unaffected by wiping the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve and then scrunching it up again above his shoulder. “It’s all about knowing how to take a fall. Wanna learn the best move ever for defending yourself?”
“Sure.”
He stands behind me and holds my arms out. The heat from his body radiates through his clothes and warms my skin. His chest muscles flex and tighten against my back. “OK, bring this hand up. Stand up straight. Stomach in, shoulders back. Think of your head being pulled to the sky.”
I let my body go as he directs me.
“Good.” He pulls my arm back. “Now, bring this forward and slice the air here.” He pushes my arm forward, slicing through the still air. “Like that.”
It feels good and powerful and efficient, like a strong punch and at the same time, a beautiful, artistic stroke.
“Now, try it alone.” He walks in front of me and folds his arms.
I feel like I’m auditioning for him. I raise my arm and as hard as I can, bring it forward though the air. I lose my footing and fall onto my back with a thud. It’s horrible, the most uncoordinated stupid thing I could do. I feel my face turn red.
He leans down and looks me over. “All right?” He examines my face. “There’s something in your eye.”
I want to reach up and kiss him.
Supporting himself with one arm, Clay rubs a piece of grit from my eye. “You’ll get it. That’s the most important movement in Karate.” His eyes dart and move around my face.
“I like it though. It’s cool. It’s like art.”
He sits down and looks into the sky. “Exactly man. That’s what people don’t get. It’s art… it’s beautiful.” He looks at me in a long, strange moment of quiet. A bird chirps overhead and breaks it. “Oh, man, this party. We have to motor.”
We get into the truck. He turns the radio on to some punk rock song and cranks the volume up high. He lights up a cigarette.
I drop my lighter and it hits my knee and bounces to his side of the floor, near his feet and the gas pedal. I lean over to get it and smell him on the way down.
We turn a corner and I see the party. It’s totally wild. Cars are parked all over the place. Kids are scattered through the yard. A guy carries a keg on his shoulders onto the front porch. The house is built on stilts and it looks like it might fall down from all the people bursting out the front door. A guy and a girl are on top of each other, making out under the house. I feel a wave of insecurity.
Similar Books
