Just a Boy

(Sorry this is so late... it started going off in an entirely different direction than I originally anticipated, which led to me tinkering with it for far longer than planned. Hopefully you enjoy the first draft, anyhow.)

Just a Boy

It’s a big word even for a twelve year old girl: tournament. As I stood in line for registration before the official start, the word rolled around in my mind, making me think of all the stuff you saw on television. A huge field, like a football stadium. Big golden trophies. Athletes waving like celebrities. Grunting and sweating and swearing and ow.
Well, my local Tae Kwon Do tournament wasn’t by any means a stadium, but a big indoor gym was more than enough for me. As I craned my neck to peer through the double doors, I saw that they had pushed the bleachers as close to the walls as possible to provide the most room. Some of this room was negated by the hard, gray metal chairs set up along the edges of the room for parents and resting participants.
I caught a flash of gold, but before I could get a better look the line was moving and I had to watch where I put my feet. I hadn’t taken my shoes off yet, but lots of the other kids already had.
Registration was quick; the instructor found my name on the list, stamped the back of my hand with a red symbol that I couldn’t figure out, and ushered me through the doors.
Once inside, the high school’s gym seemed worlds bigger than anything I’d set foot in, though most of that probably came from the number of people running around. Taking weekend classes at a local community center with one instructor and ten other kids was nothing compared to this. Instructors seemed to wander about in packs; black belts were everywhere, including a few that I knew were younger than I was. I fidgeted with my green belt, and tried to come up with a good excuse if they asked me why I wasn’t one yet.
An instructor with long, frizzy hair saw me standing by the door and called out, asking how old I was. He wasn’t my instructor, but he seemed friendly enough so I wandered over and told him my age.
“We’re putting everybody in groups,” he told me. “Age is one of the ways we’re doing that. You’re going to want to go to that corner over there.” He indicated the farthest possible corner of the gym, where I saw a laminated sign being waved in the air by one of the parents: 12-15 year olds.
I mumbled a thank you and shuffled over, continuing to glance around so I could take in the rest of the room. Now that I was paying attention, I realized that everyone was split up into age groups; the little kids were all gathered in one corner, the not-quite-a-little-kid-anymore kids in between them and us, our group, the teens, and everybody over 18. There seemed to be other groups too; as I walked by the 8-11 year group, I saw that they had a lot of yellow belts grouping together and chatting.
The adult waving the 12-15 sign offered me a grin as I made it to “my” corner, and after flashing him a smile I looked around at whoever else was going to be in this tournament with me. To my surprise, I saw that we only had a few people in our group; a yellow belt girl, two green belt boys and… me.
Maybe they’re all still in line, I decided, and moved to get ready for the tournament.
Everything fell into category after category; the reason everybody was being told to go into these groups was because of the kinds of things everyone wanted to do for the tournament. There were three main events each participant could do: you could perform your best belt-level form in front of a panel of instructors for points; you could break boards with the most advanced technique you could do; or you could face off with another person of your rank for a sparring match.
Dad had said something about the tournament being a waste if I only signed up for one, so I signed up for the first and the third events.
I looked up at the gym clock over and over, and as the minute hand inched along, more and more participants flooded the gym and were sent to their own areas to prepare. Our group never got bigger, though the number of instructors near our group did. I could see them looking at us and muttering to each other as it got closer to starting time.
Whatever the problem was, they didn’t seem interested in sharing with us; in a few minutes, the Grand Master Kim had entered and was prepared to lead us all in warmup exercises.
The first several minutes of the tournament had dragged; the next few seemed to go faster and faster, the same as my heartbeat as I got ready to do my form in front of the instructor panel. Every belt level had its own form, a series of movements that you were supposed to be learning after earning said belt. Once you’d mastered each action, you were usually ready to move on to the next belt.
Both of the green belt boys sat to one side, and to my surprise, I was put up with the yellow belt girl at the same time. Weird, but it made sense; I guessed that maybe the two boys had decided not to do the forms.
Yellow Belt and I made our way up to the panel of three instructors when our names were called. We bowed to them, to each other, then faced forward and began our own separate forms.
Before I made it to the tournament, my home instructor had told me to make sure I finished every kick or punch with a snap of my limb; it was supposed to make the fabric of my uniform snap in turn, which was supposed to make things look better. Now, though, as I started through my movements—kick, step, kick, double punch, turn—all I could worry about was trying not to run into Yellow Belt girl. We shot each other cautious looks as we turned and kicked and tried not to trip in front of our audience.
Somehow, the two of us survived the ordeal. Yellow Belt stumbled toward the end and made me start in surprise, but in the end, both of us managed to finish around the same time and bow to the instructors. The instructors nodded, and dismissed us to ready the floor for the next part—breaking boards.
I glanced over at the other girl, who seemed to be completely focused on looking for her bag. “Are you doing the next bit?” I asked, trying to start up a conversation.
She shook her head. “Nah, I’m done… My parents just wanted to see what a tournament was like.”
“Oh.”
I found a gray chair that hadn’t been taken up, and had a seat as the two green belt boys moved out to break boards. As they did, movement caught my eye—the pack of instructors that had gathered before the first part of the tournament. Once again, they were muttering and looking over at our group. I could tell they were looking at all of us, because even when one of the green belt boys managed to break three wooden boards put together, they didn’t even bat an eye—when, usually, they’d applaud like everyone else.
Their group caught my interest so much that I didn’t even notice it was time to get ready for part three—the sparring—until an instructor made his way over toward me. I glanced up at him, and he took that as his cue to speak.
“Hey, you’re going to be in the sparring, right?”
I nodded.
“I’m asking because we have kind of a little problem… the only people in your group are you and the two boys.”
I didn’t see how that was a problem, so I just nodded again.
“In the tournament, we usually make sure that girls spar against girls and boys spar against boys, just to make sure the matches are as fair as possible. We can’t do that this time.” A pause. “Is it okay if we have you sparring with just the two boys? We can put you with another group of girls, if you prefer.”
Another group of girls? I looked around at a couple of the other groups, which were already sparring. The teenager group already had a pair of girls up—each probably several inches taller than me, and landing blows that made me wince from where I was sitting. The group younger than me, for the most part, only came up to my chest in height.
I shook my head. “I’m okay with it,” I said.
“Are you sure?”
“Well… yeah.”
The instructor regarded me for a moment longer, then nodded. “All right. Well, you’re up against Brian, first, then.”
For the third time, I nodded, and slid off of my seat so I could put on my gear.
Tae Kwon Do sparring required that everyone put on all sorts of protective gear to prevent us from getting hurt; arm and leg pads, and chest and head protectors (with other stuff for the boys). It made for rather bulky fighting, especially since the protectors acted like targets for the other person in the match. And every time the other person landed a hit—say, on the chest pad—they would get a point.
The gear done, I headed over to the center of our group’s allotted square, where Green Belt One was waiting. He was a bit shorter than me, and kind of round-eyed at something that a female instructor was saying to him as she tied a red flag into his green belt, so the instructors could mark down which “color” won each point.
Whatever she said must have really bothered him, because the fight was a short one. Two kicks and a punch to his chest guard later, he was being led off of the sparring field without doing much more than offering a bow.
Green Belt Two, however, was a different case. I found myself leaning forward on the balls of my feet to try and match his height. He seemed to notice, and offered me a friendly grin. Well, at least he was more responsive than the other two had been. I smiled back.
My attention was diverted as an instructor with long, frizzy hair tied back into a ponytail made his way forward. I recognized him as the man who’d pointed me to my group earlier on.. and recognized the red flag he held in his hands as what Green Belt One had been wearing. I sighed. Great. More bulk. At least the flag was tied to the back of my belt, and not in the side or front.
The instructor knelt down next to me so that he could tie the flag into my belt, and as he did so, he began to murmur into my ear, much like that female instructor had to the Green Belt One.
“Okay,” he said, as he tied the first loop of the flag. “I know this might be a little weird; have you fought a boy before?”
“Yeah.”
He paused. “Oh… well, this shouldn’t be any different, then. He’s just a boy. He’s the same rank and age as you are. You can totally kick his ass.”
I turned my head around to stare at him, but my head gear got in the way of my eyesight. It didn’t matter, though, because soon he’d tied the second knot, and was lifting a hand to let the others know that I was officially ready to fight.
Honestly, the fight wasn’t that memorable. Both of us went home with bruises (and trophies). But what I went home with that Green Belt Two didn’t, was how some things weren’t any different from any other, whether it was a sparring match in a community center or at a tournament, versus a boy or a girl.
Well, that and a bigger trophy.