Head Kick (The Dojo) Read online

  “But still, Bao’s your son,” I plead. “You’re his mother. You have to say something.”

  She looks up, tears in her voice and fear in her eyes. “Why? Your mom never said anything to your dad when he beat Ywj.”

  “Slip your hand in like this, by his elbow.” Mr. Matsuda’s showing me how to escape a rear naked choke. Ever since I lost the spar fight, he and Mr. Hodge have spent more time with me, in part because I asked them to watch me until I know I can apply the hold or counter perfectly.

  I take Mr. Matsuda’s place on the mat with Shawn behind me. Shawn locks in the choke hold, and I tuck my chin and slip my hand in between my chin and Shawn’s arm like Mr. Matsuda showed me.

  “Okay, now pull down on his arm and bridge your back!”

  I do as he says. Arching back against Shawn’s body while pulling down on his arm works, and I escape. Mr. Matsuda bows in respect. “Good, Nong. Now, the best way to escape is not to get caught in it!”

  Shawn gets up and starts walking over toward the weight machine.

  “Hey, where are you going?” I yell after him. “Get back here.”

  “Why?”

  “I need to do it again,” I say. Mr. Matsuda smiles as I fall on the mat and wait for Shawn.

  After working with Shawn for a half hour while Mr. Matsuda showed us other escapes, I know it’s time to talk with Mr. Hodge. We didn’t talk on the way back to the dojo after the fight at MMA Academy, and I’ve been avoiding him. I hit the speed bag while I wait for him to get a free moment.

  I’m throwing hard strikes when I’m distracted. Mr. Hodge stands next to Marcus Robinson. Marcus is the dojo’s star student. He’s doing one last amateur fight, and then he’s turning pro.

  “Nong, come here!” Mr. Hodge yells. I throw one last jab and jog across the dojo.

  Mr. Hodge introduces me to Marcus and talks about Marcus’s accomplishments with pride in his voice. A pride I want him to have when talking about me. Mr. Hodge then tells Marcus about my scrimmage fight. He praises me, but also makes it clear that it was my mistake that doomed me. “Nong was the better fighter, but just not that night, I guess.”

  “What are you again? Bantam?” Marcus asks.

  “Featherweight,” I answer. Although I’m sure a post-loss eating binge has me over the limit.

  “Well, feather, let’s see what you got,” Marcus says.

  “Serious?”

  “You only get better facing better fighters,” Marcus says.

  I shake my head and smile. “How do you know you’re a better fighter than me?”

  He laughs. “I guess we’re about to find out, right?”

  I’m standing straight up, but how he says it makes my knees buckle like a KO punch.

  Marcus and I drill hard over in the corner, mostly on grappling and defending against takedowns. I don’t know how he can even grip me with sweat oozing out of my every pore. Every time he takes me down, he explains how I could defend against it. My neck hurts from nodding so much as I soak in everything he’s showing me.

  “Keep your head in the game for these drills,” he warns. “Think when you’re drilling, and think before you get in the cage about what you want to do,” Marcus said. “But once you’re inside, you need to let your trained instincts guide you.”

  “I did that, and I got choked out.”

  “No, from what I heard, you didn’t get choked out—you choked.”

  I hang my head like it holds all 145 pounds.

  “Mr. Hodge said you went in overconfident, and then when you got on the ground, you panicked. Stay calm, and you can win.”

  I start to argue, but Marcus shuts me down.

  “Overcome the fear and you can win. I’ve lost before. You can’t win every fight.”

  “I’m not afraid of losing,” I whisper.

  “Then what are you afraid of?”

  I bounce nervously on the balls of my feet as I think. Fighting in the dojo wasn’t a big deal. In public, with people watching, it felt different. Riskier. Too much like the humiliation of getting knocked around by my brothers as the runt.

  Marcus shrugs, letting it go. “After practice, we’ll spar for a while in the cage. We’ll see what you’ve got, Ninja Warrior.”

  As I head to the shower, I run into Hector. I saw him drilling with Marcus as well. Even though Hector outweighs him by sixty pounds, just like with me, Marcus was clearly in charge.

  “Good workout?” Hector asks.

  “I’m just getting started,” I reply. “You fighting Marcus tonight?”

  “You bet.”

  “It will be so much fun to watch myself get pounded again. I can hardly wait.”

  “Nong, come on, it was just one fight.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “Why?” Hector asks.

  “Because you won.”

  Before Hector says anything else, his cell rings. It’s his dad. They argue as usual. It seems strange to me—I don’t talk back or question my dad. I’ve learned what would happen. It’s not a two-sided argument. It’s how Ywj got lots of bruises.

  “Close the distance, Nong!” Mr. Hodge shouts.

  Marcus is fast, with good defenses, but some of my leg kicks get through. I try a takedown. He sprawls and grabs the clinch. I feel his fingers lock around the back of my neck and try to get my knees up to protect myself, but he’s too quick. A hard knee to the chin sends me back to the mat, and he pounces on me. In full mount, he starts throwing elbows and punches, just like the guy did the other night. Mr. Hodge blows the whistle.

  It’s like that whack-a-mole game; every time I stand up, he knocks me back down. My only chance is from the mat. He takes me down and starts working an arm submission. I feel the pressure relax for a microsecond, and I pop my hips. Before I can stand, Marcus drags me back down flat on my back. But he’s off balance.

  I quickly move to rubber guard, getting my legs high against his back. I eat a hard elbow to the jaw as I raise my head. As he reaches in, I’m quicker and I lock my hands behind his head, threading the fingers together. When he tries to snare my left leg, I slip my right leg from behind and get it under his chin. I push up with the leg and pull down with my hands. Mr. Hodge blows the whistle before Marcus can tap or escape.

  “Perfect gogoplata!” Mr. Matsuda says.

  Marcus and I spar for another few rounds until I’m exhausted. I never get him in another submission, but he never locks one in on me again either. He probably would have won every round but one on points. Still, it’s my best fight yet.

  As I’m driving home, I’m feeling pumped up, happy, and hungry. The happiness leaves when I see the old gold Lexus in the driveway. Ywj’s car. My mom’s car is gone, but Dad’s pick-up is there. I drive around the block a few times, but each time I swing past, the Lexus remains.

  I’m thinking about sleeping in the parking lot of the dojo when my cell rings. It’s Dad. He tells me I’m out past my curfew and to get home. I hope Bao is there with Ywj, but I also know he shouldn’t be up so late.

  I park on the street, walk by the Lexus, and head inside. Dad and Ywj sit at the kitchen table, laughing and smoking, playing cards. Ywj drinks a beer, Dad sips tea. Bao isn’t around.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I mumble as I walk as quickly as I can, head down, toward my room.

  “Come say hello to your brother,” Dad commands. “It’s great to have Ywj home, no?”

  Before I can answer, Ywj jumps up and gets me in a headlock. “Hello, runt!” he hisses. Suddenly I’m not the Ninja Warrior; I’m Nong Vang, the kid who won’t fight back while his dad laughs at him.

  “Welcome to a very special edition of MTV’s Bully Beatdown,” says host Jason “Mayhem” Miller. “In this edition, we’ll have not one but three bullies step into the cage with our guest MMA fighter. The rules are simple: the bully starts the round with $5,000 but loses $1,000 every time he is forced to tap out. The second round is a three-minute kickboxing round. The bully wins $5,000 if he can survive the entire
three minutes, but does not earn anything if he quits or gets KO’d, or if referee Big John McCarthy stops the fight.

  “So tonight, for the first time, we’re set to give away $30,000 if the Vang brothers can defeat the secret MMA fighter. For reasons that will become clear, the identity of the Vang brothers’ victim has been kept secret from them. So, let’s get ready for this special edition of Bully Beatdown.

  “From St. Louis, please welcome the Vang brothers and see the tale of the tape.”

  Ywj Vang: age 25 6 feet 245 pounds

  Tha Vang: age 23 5 feet,10 inches 215 pounds

  Vam Vang: age 21 5 feet, 9 inches 200 pounds

  “And now welcome our mystery MMA fighter, age 18, 5 feet, 4 inches and 145 pounds,” Miller says. The crowd boos the bullies and cheers the MMA fighter, whose face remains hidden from the audience and his foes thanks to a hooded gold robe. Miller walks over to the fighter.

  “So, will you start with Vam?” Miller asks, but the fighter shakes his head. “Tha?”

  Again the fighter shakes his head, and then points toward the oldest and largest, Ywj Vang.

  In his corner, Ywj laughs and shakes his head in agreement. The other two leave the cage.

  Miller puts the microphone in front of the face of the MMA fighter. “It’s now time to reveal the true identity of our mystery fighter. Please welcome UFC featherweight champion and the youngest of the Vang brothers, Nong ‘Ninja Warrior’ Vang.” Nong tosses his head back and the hood falls off. His two brothers outside the cage look concerned, but Ywj shows no emotion as he and his youngest brother go to the center of the cage and listen to the instructions. Nong refuses to look his brother in the eye but nods his head as McCarthy explains the rules of the first round. “No strikes of any kind, only grappling and submissions.”

  Ywj pulls up his sagging sweatpants as he returns to his side of the cage. Nong doesn’t leave the center of the cage. When the bell rings, he assumes his fighting pose. Ywj laughs and then charges at his younger brother, but Nong executes a sweeping hip throw, putting his brother on the mat with a thud. Before Ywj can scramble to his feet, Nong gets position beside him. Using his near arm, Nong encircles his brother’s head in a headlock and then grabs Ywj’s wrist, bending the arm upwards. Nong quickly maneuvers his arm through the “hole” created by Ywj’s bent wrist, then locks his own wrist. Nong barely starts to crank when Ywj taps from the pressure. “Our first tap out via the Anaconda vise,” Miller says.

  Nong and Ywj regain their feet. Ywj tries to snatch Nong’s head, but Nong tosses his brother to the mat with a double leg. Almost before Ywj lands, Nong’s on top and repeats the Anaconda vise. Tap.

  Ywj is slow in getting to his feet and circles for a long time before he tries to take Nong down again. He shoots in, but in doing so, Ywj ducks his head. Nong wraps his right arm under Ywj’s neck. With his left hand, Nong grasps his right hand. With the choke locked in, Nong wraps his legs around Ywj’s body. Ywj taps almost immediately.

  Once more, Ywj tries to shoot, but Nong sprawls and locks in another guillotine choke, this time from his knees. Nong falls back, wrapping his legs around Ywj’s body. Ywj once again submits, the fourth time in less than a minute. Ywj gets to his feet, cursing under his breath, but Nong stays on the mat, daring his brother to take the fight to the floor. When Ywj gets close, Nong grabs his ankle, bringing his brother down. As Ywj leans in again, Nong wraps his right leg around the back of his brother’s neck. With his left leg, he pins Ywj’s arm. “Triangle choke!” Miller shouts as Ywj taps for final time.

  Ywj talks with his brothers before the kickboxing round as he’s fitted with gloves, shin pads, and a helmet. When the bell rings, Ywj races toward Nong, throwing wild punches that don’t connect. Nong answers with a kick right on his brother’s knee. Ywj crumbles to the mat. McCarthy counts to eight before Ywj stands awkwardly. He can barely move and has no power in his punches.

  Nong continues to punish Ywj with jabs and hooks until Ywj’s face is a flood of sweat. A liver kick connects, and Ywj stumbles toward the mat. But before he lands, Nong greets him with a head kick, and Ywj is lights-out. As the audience cheers, Nong stares at his two other brothers and then motions for them to come into the cage. The brothers look at Nong, down at Ywj, back at Nong, and then for the nearest exit sign.

  Nong removes his mouthpiece, stands over his fallen big brother, and shouts, “Who is the runt now?” Scanning the crowd, Nong points at an older man and laughs until his sides hurt.

  “Happy birthday, runt!” Ywj says, then slaps my back hard with his left hand. His right hand carries a full plate of crab legs from the buffet. We’re celebrating my birthday with dinner at Grand City Buffet, my dad’s and my older brothers’ favorite Chinese restaurant. Since they don’t need to worry about making weight, this is a feast for them. For me, it’s torture.

  I mumble something and take a bite from my veggie-filled plate. In front of me is a pile of gifts and envelopes from my family. In my car, I have the same from people at the dojo.

  “Hey, Bao, you some kind of rock star?” Lue asks Bao, who’s wearing sunglasses indoors.

  “He’s got an eye infection,” Ywj answers for Bao as he wraps his arms around his son. “You know little kids. They’re all bacteria-filled runts.”

  Bao doesn’t react to the insult, which means he’s used to it. When I first started at the dojo and felt real strikes for the first time, I thought I’d forever be in pain. But you learn to absorb the blows.

  “Open our birthday card first!” Dad says between bites of chicken wings.

  Mom points it out, and I reach for it. She’s all smiles.

  I open the gold envelope and pull out the fancy card. Inside it is a check for eighteen hundred dollars, except it’s not made out to me. The payee is Kirkwood Community College.

  “Nong, you’ve made us so proud doing so well in school,” Mom says. Dad nods in agreement and then takes a chicken wing off Mom’s plate. “So your father wants you to continue your education in the fall, maybe even start taking classes this summer.”

  “Thanks, Mom, but I don’t want to go to college. I want to train and fight full-time.”

  Dad laughs. “Nong, get serious. We’ve supported this MMA thing while you’re in school since it keeps you out of trouble, but now it’s time to think about your future. You need a real plan.”

  “I am serious,” I counter.

  Dad frowns. “Son, your brothers and I have done fine even though we didn’t go to college. But as my youngest son, I want you to live the American dream, and that means college.”

  “Wait a minute,” Ywj says. “Maybe he could be a pro wrestler. Remember how they used to have midget wrestling?” Everybody laughs but me, Mom, Kia, and Lue.

  “But college isn’t my dream, Dad. I want to be a fighter and—”

  “It’s decided,” he says and then goes back to eating food off his and Mom’s plates. I open up the other presents. The ones from my brothers are all the same: DVDs of seasons of The Ultimate Fighter. I already own them, but it’s not like they would ask or pay attention.

  “Open mine next,” Lue says and then hands me his present. It’s heavy.

  I rip open the paper. Inside is a huge book. The UFC Encyclopedia. “Thanks, Lue!”

  “One day, cuz, we’ll both be in there!”

  Vam laughs. “Yeah, Nong ‘The Runt’ Vang, I can see it!”

  My face flushes as red as the sweet and sour pork on Lue’s plate.

  “Shut up, Vam,” Lue says.

  “Make me!” Vam pushes his chair back, suddenly serious. Lue does the same. They stand nose to nose.

  “Sit down, the both of you,” Dad says. Vam obeys, and after a few seconds, so does Lue. When they sit, I stand. Even standing, I’m only a little taller than my brothers are sitting down.

  “I need to make a call,” I say quickly and even more quickly head for the door. Once outside in the parking lot, I walk past the smokers and get in my car. Before I pull out my phone,
I take out the birthday card that May Li gave me. I dial the number and take a deep breath.

  “Hey, May Li, I wanted to thank you for the card,” I say.

  “Happy birthday! I can’t believe you’re eighteen. Do you feel different?”

  It’s like I can still hear the laughter from inside and feel Ywj’s hard slap on the back.

  “Nong?” May Li is still waiting for my response.

  “I don’t think I’ll feel different until I have my first amateur fight next Friday,” I say. “You said that you’d like to come watch, a while ago. Still want me to get you a ticket?” I tense up waiting for an answer.

  “I’d love to, but the senior recital is that night.”

  “Oh. OK,” I say.

  “No, Nong, KO.”

  I laugh. I tell her more about my fight, and she tells me about her recital. The more we talk, the more comfortable it feels.

  “It’s a lot of pressure we’re both under,” she says. “Sometimes I think the pressure is worse than the concert itself. I just can’t stand not to do well. It makes me feel like such a loser.”

  “May Li, you’re the smartest person I know. How could you feel like a loser?”

  “I don’t know, I’ve always been this way. Aren’t you afraid of failing? Losing your fight?”

  I pause, startled by how much we have in common. It’s not losing I’m afraid of—it’s people thinking I’m a loser. But I can’t say that. “I’m not going to lose.”

  “Well then, I’m sorry I can’t be there to see you win,” she says.

  Before I can respond, I hear Bao crying outside. Ywj drags him toward his car with Kia two steps behind. And I know my moment of truth isn’t just in the cage in ten days, it’s right in front of me, right now. I wrap up with May Li, get out of the car, and walk chin up under a dark Missouri sky. Kia and Bao are in the Lexus. Ywj stands in front of it, talking on his phone and smoking.

  “Ywj, I want to talk to you,” I say.

  “I’m busy,” he mutters, then goes back to his call. I grab the phone from his hand.