The Blue Blaze: Chapter 2

I look left and right into the hallway. I don't see Troy and his bully crew. I slowly pull away from the classroom entrance and double-check. Nope! He must have been in football practice, and his gang followed him. I'm safe. I wonder what kind of Karate moves Keith can teach me. With that, I can finally beat Troy's lights out and get him and his friends to leave me alone! Opening the gym doors, I see Keith leaning on the wall with MMA pads and blue boxing gloves. Boxing gloves? For Karate? I understand pads, but I've never seen karate championships where they wear those large gloves.
"How's your stomach?" Keith got off the wall.
"It feels better. It's not as tender as yesterday. So, did my mom let you teach me some things?"
Keith sighed. "Nope."
"So what's with the stuff?"
"Listen, man, I'm sick and tired of seeing you with a new bruise daily. Your mom knows nothing about this, so keep it down low."
"What if she asks what I've been up to?"
"I don't know. Tell her you're in the chess club or something."
I don't like to lie, but I guess sometimes I have to, especially since my mom would rather have me get the crap beaten out of me than have me lift a finger. "Alright then. The school coach let you borrow the gym here, right?" I asked.
Keith nodded his head. "He said as long as no other events are being held here, I can do whatever I want as long as it's appropriate."
Keith tossed a jump rope at me. I caught it, but one of the ends hit me in the forehead.
"Ow. Jump rope?"
"Good warmup. Wouldn't want you to pull a muscle on the first day, would you?"
I shook my head.
At the end of the jump rope session, I was sweating, and my heart was pounding. I rushed to my water bottle and started to chug down mouthfuls.
"Don't drink so much water. I think you want to avoid throwing it up later.
After I was done drinking, Keith tossed me some gloves. "Put those on, but later down the road, you may way wanna buy your own gloves and hand wraps. They tend to protect your hands and wrists during a punch."
"I never saw this kind of thing in karate." I slide on the gloves.
Keith grinned and crossed his arms. "I never said I trained in karate."
"You don't? I could have sworn you told me that."
"Nope. You never asked and just assumed."
"So what do you train?"
"A little something called Muay Thai. It's a kind of kickboxing hailing from Thailand."
"Never heard of it." The gloves didn't feel tight around my hand, and I could still wiggle my fingers easily enough.
"It's not as popular in martial arts such as Karate, Taekwondo, or even regular boxing."
I looked at my friend and noticed he wore shorts that came a little before his knees. "Okay, what does Muay Thai train in?"
"You'll see. Get in a fighting stance."
I posed my arms at my chest with a bladed stance.
Keith shook his head. "Keep your hands at eye level at least. Tuck your chin. Shorter stance and hips facing toward me. Left leg forward."
Getting into the position felt awkward, but I did as he said.
"Feels a little weird, right? Don't worry, you'll get used to it. Also, you may wanna ditch those jeans for shorts later on."
"But I don't like-"
"I know you like to wear jeans, heck, you even sleep in them. But shorts allow for more leg movement and will make you heat up less."
"Fine…" I sigh.
Keith slipped on the hand pads. "Give me a couple of jabs. Remember to keep your hands up."
"Which hand do I throw it with?"
"You're right-handed, right? Throw a jab with your left and cross with your right."
My punches felt weak, but I could hear an audible sound coming off the pads. It felt great to hit things without having any repercussions after that. It definitely started to feel a little swampy in the gloves, though.
"How are you feeling with that?" Asked Keith after about five minutes of punching.
"Okay, I guess."
Keith grabbed the longer pads. "Let's throw some kicks in there, shall we? There are three main kinds of kicks. They're simple to do. There's the roundhouse, the switch, and the teep."
"What are the last two?"
"The switch is when you take your left leg, switch stances for half a second, and throw a left kick. The teep is a front kick, mainly meant for pushing your opponent and gaining some distance." Keith got in his stance and showed them off. Each of his kicks was lightning-quick, and I imagine they packed a punch simultaneously. He then got what looked like a belt with a round pad in the center of it. "Your turn. Try to turn your hips completely for the roundhouse."
Smack. Smack. Smack. "This doesn't seem all that different from other martial arts." I kicked.
"Alright then. Throw a knee."
"A what?"
"You heard me. Hit me with a knee strike. That's what the belt is for." Keith positioned his longer pads above the belt.
I got in the position that Keith taught me and threw my right knee, missing him by half a foot.
"You need to be a little closer for that attack."
I nodded, stepped closer, about a foot away from him, and rocketed my knee into the pad.
"Oof! I felt that." He chuckled. "You've got some power in your strikes."
"Do you want me to tone it down a bit?"
Keith shook his head. "Not at all. That's what this is for."
After several right knee strikes, I threw a similar knee with the switch movement.
"Very good! Didn't even have to tell you for that."
After a couple more strikes, Keith stepped back. "Hold!" he dropped his arms. "This next part could be a little more dangerous to me."
"Why? What is it?"
"Elbows."
"Elbows?"
"Elbows. Ever noticed that if you get elbowed, even if it's by accident, it tends to hurt a bit?"
"Yeah?"
"In Muay Thai, a similar principle is employed. Except it's on purpose. With a good elbow strike, you can cut someone."
I tilted my head. "How? It's nothing like a knife. I don't see how it could cut."
Keith laughed. "Yeah, that's what I thought, too, until I saw some matches online. One guy had the side of his face split from one of those strikes. The elbow is one of the sharpest parts of your body, if not the sharpest. Which is why if you don't know what you're doing, you could end up killing someone."
"Isn't that for any martial art?"
"Yeah, but it especially goes for Muay Thai. See, it was based on a more ancient art called Muay Boran. It was taught to the soldiers so they could actually kill their opponents."
My mouth hung open. "How long have you been doing this?"
"Oh, for a couple of years now. And I still doubt I have the same skill as my coach. Now, come on, hit me!" He rose the long pads.
"O-okay!" I threw a horizontal elbow, but Keith stopped me mid-way.
"If you're at elbow distance, your opponent is also at elbow distance. Keep your guard up when throwing one." He threw a slow elbow at my cheek, just touching it to prove his point. "Instead of keeping your other arm straight up, angle it downwards a couple of inches over your arm. Without completely blocking your vision."
I took his advice, and he stopped me mid-strike again, testing my guard. My left arm blocked his elbow.
"Good!"
After we were done, I was a sweaty mess and chugged down the rest of my water.
I checked my phone. "I should probably get home now," It was four-thirty in the afternoon.
"Might be a good idea," said Keith as he packed the equipment inside a duffel bag. I also gave him his gloves back. "After class, I usually like to go to the Muay Thai gym in the neighborhood. I only know so much. Why don't you come with me?"
"I don't know. I imagine it's expensive."
"It is about one-thirty a month, but you know my parents are well off. I could ask them if they could also pay for you.
"I can't ask you to do that! I'd feel like I'm just mooching off of your parents."
"I'm still going to ask. Maybe they can have you do a couple of chores as payment."
"Fine…"

We walked back to our houses. Keith's was five minutes away from mine, so he always walked with me.
"Ethan, I want you to know something."
"What's up?"
"Just because you have a grasp on learning how to fight, don't go looking for trouble."
"I'm not."
"And that means don't go punching Troy just because you can. If you have an opportunity to run, you take it."
"What? So you just want me to be a coward and run!?"
"I never said to run like a coward. You need to choose your battles. You run if you know you can't win the fight."
"What if you're cornered?"
"Well, try to fend them off until backup arrives or until you see a window. The best way to block a punch is not being there at all. The only reason you would fight is if there's no other way to de-escalate the situation. Only then do you use a weapon."
"A weapon?"
"Let's say you had a gun strapped onto you. You wouldn't go for a random place to shoot up, would you?"
"Of course not!"
"Would you shoot someone that's all in your face and being a jerk to you?"
"I'd feel tempted."
Keith chuckled. "I imagine a lot of people would be. But there would be no reason to unless they're physically threatening and putting their hands on you. Otherwise, keep the gun in the holster."
"Hmph." I crossed my arms.
"The same goes for Muay Thai and other martial arts. It's only for self-defense. If you can find other non-lethal ways of neutralizing the guy or see an escape route, take it."
"I thought you said that Muay Thai was used to kill people."
Keith shook his head. "No. Muay Boran was used to kill people. It was taught to soldiers. Muay Thai is a watered-down version, but it could still be used to kill someone."
"So if Troy and his group gang up on me?"
"You're probably not going to be able to talk them out of it, and running wouldn't be so easy. If they lay hands on you, defend yourself and try to escape."
"Fine…"
"Who knows? Maybe Troy won't think you're so weak after all and leave you alone after that. He's the real coward, picking on the people smaller than him."

After getting home from school and doing homework, I looked up some Muay Thai videos to understand what I was getting myself into. There was literally a guy chopping down a tree with his leg.
"Holy crap! How isn't he feeling anything?"
I texted Keith with the context.
"Oh yeah," Keith texted, "The fighters in Thailand train from ten years old. Kicking a tree down is nothing."
"Doesn't it hurt?"
"From what I understand and from what my coach told me, not really. By the time they're in their twenties, they've killed all the nerves in their legs. Their shins are also hard as steel from training ."
Well, that was motivation to learn Muay Thai if I've ever seen it.
"So…" I texted. "Any news with your parents about the gym?"
"At first, they wanted to think about it. Then, I reminded them about your situation, and they felt empathetic. They said that if you come to mow the lawns and pick up the autumn leaves every Sunday, they are willing to pay for your membership and a little extra."
"Wow. Tell them 'thanks a lot!' for me." Keith's parents have always been nice to me. Every time I came over, they tried to stuff my face with baked goods or other foods they made that day. Sometimes, I indulged, and my scale liked to taunt me with the extra five pounds I gained.
I heard my mom unlocking the front door. I sighed and went to welcome her.
"Hi, mom…" I bent my head.
"Hi, Ethan. What's wrong?"
"I… wanted to apologize for my attitude yesterday. It wasn't right for me to shout at you and slam my door like that."
I heard my mom's steps approaching me. She put a hand on my head and ruffled my hair a bit. "I forgive you. I get that you were frustrated."
"It's still no excuse to shout at you."
"Yeah, you're right. All is forgiven, though. Just don't let it happen again."
"Keith said that he talked to you after I stormed off." I looked at her.
"He did. He was trying to convince me to let him teach you some things. I said no."
"Didn't you say that Dad was a good fighter?"
"Yeah. But all that fighting came back to bite him. After he left on that business trip, he never came back. I think some of his enemies got the better of him this time."
"Is that why you don't want me to learn martial arts?"
"I wasn't a huge supporter of martial arts before I met your father, but I respected his decision. After he left, I wanted no part of them. And I don't want you to end up like him, probably dead in some alley."
Well, at least I knew why she didn't want me to learn anything. If you were to have asked me, I would have said that he probably cheated on my mom and has a family somewhere else now.
"You don't think he's off with some other woman?" I asked.
"David? Oh no. He was never a womanizer." My mom laughed. "He even started complaining that some women were staring at him and trying to pursue him."
I chuckled. Okay, maybe he wasn't with some other woman.
"If anything, he would've been worried that I would look for other men. Not that I did, mind you. No other man I dated after him treated me the same, if I'm being honest."
That night, we decided to order food. My mom always came back exhausted from work. Usually, I cooked something for myself after school and made an extra portion for her to eat after she came home. I just didn't feel like cooking when I came home that day.
"So, how are your studies?" My mom stabbed a piece of orange chicken with her fork.
"Mmm," I held a finger, still chewing on my Lo Mein. I swallowed. "I did my book report today. It was about the Beowulf book. I thought the guy was pretty cool, being a monster killer, but I didn't like the dragon killing at the end."
My mom looked up for a bit as if she was thinking, "Why did you choose it?"
"The teacher gave us a selection of classics to read, from The Odyssey to The Great Gatsby. I heard a lot about Beowulf, so I chose that."
"You know, your father never liked that book. When I asked him why, he said he didn't like it. Gave him a bad feeling, he said. He was fine with other books, but sometimes, I caught him glaring at the book whenever we passed it in the store. It was almost like he wanted to set it on fire."
"He didn't actually, though, right?"
"Of course not. Book burnings are frowned upon." she swallowed a piece of chicken and chuckled. "I think it's the same reason you didn't like the end. He was always fascinated with dragons and fantasy creatures in general."
"Guess that was passed onto me."
"Yup."
I placed my chopsticks down and sipped my tea. "Did Dad ever drink?"
She shook her head. "Not a single drop. He didn't smoke, either. He hated the smell of alcohol, cigarettes, weed, any of that kind of thing. He said he wanted to keep his mind sober and clear. I never did anything, so I had no problem."
I went to sleep that night with a slightly guilty conscience. I did wanna learn how to fight and defend myself, but at the same time, I felt bad for going against my mom's wishes. I shrugged it off, telling myself it was a problem for the Ethan of tomorrow.