Law & Crime
In tae kwon do, I love it when I take a kick to the head, or when some guy punches me in the chest. When I can take some other guy's hit, it makes me feel tough. But there are always moves I stop myself from using, because they are frowned upon in my sport. Tonight I am free to win any way I can. With any move I see open to me.
I push all thoughts of falling out of my mind and focus on being one with the trail. I roll along, up rises and into dips like a wave following the ocean floor. I steal a peek behind me, the wind rushing through my helmet openings.
Warren has dropped back. He's slowed down to take the hill. Good. I've bought myself some time. I'm formulating a devious plan. If it works the way I want it to, I'll be able to put Warren away too. Without getting myself killed in the process.
The Sharks called us "pond scum."
I breathed deep, like I always did before a race, filling my nose with the smell of chlorine. The Sharks were about to see that this pond scum could swim.
One of the private-school boys grabs hold of his buddy's arm. "Let's get outta here," he says. "See the fangs on that monster? And the way his ears are sticking up?" I don't like him calling Smokey a monster. If Smokey's baring his fangs, it's because he's on the alert. I head for the cash. I feel like Smokey needs me. Like I understand him in a way no one else does.
