Author's Note: This story was posted unfinished by Paula Dillon after working on it for two years when writer's block struck. Chapter 1 consists of her originally posted story that has been edited in concert with the extension and completion of the story jointly authored by Paula and Tigger.

Mind, Body and Spirit
by
Paula Dillon

Author's Note: Korean terms used in the story's Karate classes are parenthetically translated the first time the term is used in a chapter. For example GOMAN! (stop) CHARYUT! (attention). A glossary of such terms is contained in Appendix B of Part 1 for future reference.
~-~

Mind, Body and Spirit
Chapter 1 - Testing and Other Trials
Edited by Tigger

Fifteen-year-old Charlie walked into Kim Young-Soo’s Karate Dojang, his forty-five-pound gear bag dangling from his shoulder. The gear bag which had seemed so heavy eight years ago when he’d begun this journey, was hardly noticeable to the young man these days. Charlie was physically in terrific shape, standing five foot seven inches tall, weighing in at one hundred forty pounds of solid lean muscle and bone, all with less than five percent body fat.

Charlie took off his shoes and put them in the box the dojang had assigned for them, he then headed directly to the men’s dressing room. Donnie Colt was already there getting dressed for today’s class. Charlie and Donnie both held the rank of First Geup (red belts with black stripes) and were preparing for their black belt test in three weeks. As a result, both were being worked extremely hard by their teachers to ensure they passed the challenging tests on their first attempts.

Donnie was an eighteen-year-old, dark-skinned black kid, who stood just a hair under six feet and a biscuit over two hundred and twenty pounds. He was massive! Donnie's biceps were bigger around than Charlie's thighs, and on top of that, finding an ounce of fat anywhere on his muscular body would be nigh impossible.

Charlie thanked God, every day he came to the dojang, that he and Donnie were friends. Since they were at the same level of training, they were most often paired off with or against each other in class. As skilled as little Charlie had become, it would not go well for him if Donnie didn't like him, or heaven forbid, hated him. Just bracing the heavy bag for Donnie when he was practicing his kicks and punches could be painful for the person supporting the bag for him. Donnie was just that powerful!

Charlie took the tag end of his red belt in his left hand, wrapping the belt twice around his waist before tying it off with a square knot. Straightening, he adjusted his dobok (uniform) before looking up at Donnie.

“Man, you know they are going to work our sorry asses into the ground today,” Donnie groused.

Charlie chuckled and smiled at Donnie, “Yeah, our black belt tests are in less than a month. They are going to be all over our sorry asses like flies on stink.”

“Let’s go do this, man.”

“Right on.”

Charlie was reaching down to pick up his gear bag when Donnie picked him up under one arm, tucking him into his hip and before picking up both their heavy gear bags with his other arm.

“Put me down you stupid goon,” Charlie complained loudly. “You’re a sorry sack of shit, you know that?”

Donnie just ignored his smaller friend and headed into the dojang, Charlie complaining all the way. Dropping the bags beside the mat, still carrying Charlie, Donnie headed out to the center of the mat.

"GOMAN! (stop) CHARYUT! (attention)," an authoritative voice rang out.

Reacting immediately to the command, Donnie unceremoniously dropped Charlie on the floor and snapped to attention facing the Korean flag. Charlie landed with an ‘umph’, rolled over, did a ‘kip up’ off the floor, and came to attention facing the flag beside Donnie.

Wilma Davis, their black belt instructor for the day, had to suppress a snicker, as she watched the antics of the pair. There was never a dull moment around those two.

Taking charge, Wilma began the class. “Kyungnet (bow)! Turn and bow to Grandfather Kim. Kyungnet!. Bow to Master Kim and Young-Soo, Kyungnet. Bow to me, Kyungnet!”

Wilma turned and faced the three Kims who were seated beside the mat, acting as judges. “I present 1st Geup red belt students, Donnie Colt and Charlie McKellar, preparing to test for black belt, 1st Dan,” she said formally, bowing to them. “They will be performing ‘Koryo Poomsae’.”

Students testing for black belt are required to know and must be able to demonstrate many Poomsae or standard forms. During their advancement test, they would typically be asked to perform four or five such exercises for the judges. They would not know before the actual test, which of a dozen Poomsae they would be called on to perform, but Koryo was one Poomsae they would most definitely have to do proficiently to pass the test.

Wilma stepped away from the mat and took a seat on the floor in front of the three Kims.

“SIJAK! (begin).” Grandfather Kim’s strong voice ordered.

Donnie and Charlie moved efficiently to the Poomse's starting position in unison and began their form. They had practiced doing all the required forms together many times. During belt tests, it was common for students testing for the same belt to be called on to perform them together. Not only did it save time, but it also allowed the judges to compare the students as they moved through the forms. Students learned early that it was best to keep in sync with their fellow students when performing as a group. Group Poomsae look tremendous when everyone stayed in step and unison, but if a student fell out of sync with the rest, it immediately stood out like a sore thumb to the observers . . . or the judges.

Both students’ doboks snapped and popped as they punched, kicked, or blocked their imaginary opponents’ strikes. Frayed sleeves and pant legs were often a result of all that popping and snapping, and thus were seen as a badge of honor among their peers. A martial arts student quickly learned to beware of any opponent whose dobok sported frayed sleeves or pant legs.

Donnie was good at forms, very good in fact, but not quite in the same league as Charlie. Charlie's moves were sharper and more precise. Together, the two young men were pure poetry in motion. Bare milliseconds, hardly noticeable, separated the pair as they transitioned smoothly from one move to the next until they finished together and bowed.

“Demonstrate Poomsae One, Three, Five and Eight.” Master Kim commanded. “Sijak!”

The federation that oversaw the style of Taekwondo taught by the Kims had a list of standard forms that were required skills for each belt rank. During class or testing, the forms could be called out by the teacher by either name or number, and in any order the instructors directed. Students were required to know them by both name and number, and then perform the directed exercises flawlessly.

Having satisfactorily demonstrated their forms, they were then each called upon to demonstrate proficiency with two weapons. Donnie performed routines employing nunchuks (two batons joined by a chain) and then tonfa (short batons with a side handle, used in pairs), while Charlie demonstrated bo and kamas (short scythe-like weapons, used in pairs).

Both students were skilled and employed their weapons well. Meeting either of them in a dark alley with evil intent would result in a very bad day for whatever fool might have decided to challenge them.

For the final part of this practice test, they were required to gear up. Master Kim, Young-Soo, Wilma, Donnie and Charlie all donned their punches, kicks, headgear, mouthpieces and cups for the guys, and for Wilma a chest guard and separate chest protector.

Grandfather Kim was the designated Joo Sim or referee for the first planned bouts. First, Donnie went up against one of the black belts for three minutes and then he sat, while Charlie went up against another black belt. Donnie then sparred with two black belts at the same time and afterward, Charlie did the same. Finally, Charlie and Donnie had to face each other in a scored five-minute bout. Young-Soo was designated Joo Sim for this bout and he directed them both to put on chest protectors before starting.

Donnie was training to enter MMA (Mixed Martial Arts) as a professional competitor and sometimes in the past had trouble keeping contact during sparring to a moderate level. Donnie’s strengths as a fighter were his power and speed, while Charlie’s were quickness, speed, accuracy and agility. Speed and quickness are similar, but not the same. Donnie was fast, almost as fast as Charlie, but Charlie had much shorter reaction times and moved accordingly. During a contest like this bout, his quickness and agility allowed him to avoid, counter or mitigate many of Donnie’s attacks. Sparring for points, such as they would be required to do for their tests, favored Charlie’s strengths. Ordinarily, he would win perhaps sixty-five percent of the bouts against Donnie. Full contact sparring was a completely different story as that favored Donnie’s strength and his power. Donnie would win those contests at least seventy percent of the time, if not more. Charlie needed every skill and trick he’d learned in eight years of study to be able to compete with Donnie. Both knew, however, that Young-Soo would see to it that both kids would survive this encounter without serious injury.

Young-Soo called “Sijak!” And the pair closed on each other. Their purpose was to fight as hard as they could, as skillfully as they could, while the other black belts, including Ricky Summers who’d just earned his junior black belt, scored the bout. This was also a test for young Ricky, as well as an honor due to his new rank.

For scoring purposes, Donnie wore a white scarf on his belt, while Charlie wore a red scarf. When one or the other combatant scored a strike, Young-Soo would call "Kalyeo! (stop)", and the contestants would stop fighting for the scoring to be awarded. Each of the judges would then raise either a red flag for Charlie's favor, a white flag to vote for Donnie, or no flag if they didn't see the blow. Whoever got the most votes would be awarded the point. Young-Soo would only vote in case of a tie.

Charlie knew precisely what his primary job had to be in this bout - stay alive. His points would come, mostly on counters or quick openings, unless Donnie overwhelmed him for a quick victory. As they began circling, he scored first with a back fist to Donnie's temple which looked much harder to a spectator than it actually had been. The contestants in this type of bout were trying to hit their opponent just hard enough to score, but also without injuring them badly.

Everyone in the dojang held their breath for a moment after Charlie's point because they knew that Donnie had problems if he got nailed too hard, hit with a cheap shot, or ridiculed by an opponent during the bout. If Donnie lost it and began to get angry, he could be like Bruce Banner the Incredible Hulk. Donnie was really difficult to like when he got angry, especially with his opponent.

Young-Soo's responsibility was to end the bout if things ever got to that point. With the help and guidance of the Kims, and to his credit, Donnie had gotten much better about that. Young-Soo was one of the main reasons that Donnie wasn't in prison at this time in his young life. He had worked tirelessly to help Donnie focus and balance his spirit. Even so, everyone knew that Charlie would not survive a Donnie Colt rage.

Both contestants showed themselves well and the score stayed close throughout the contest. As the bout was drawing to an end, Charlie held a slim one-point advantage over his bigger, stronger opponent. The action became more intense as the fighters continued to trade punches and kicks, until just before the clock wound down, Donnie scored to tie the match up - all even. With mere seconds remaining in the bout, Charlie dove in under Donnie's defenses, and unleashed a screaming back fist to Donnie's head. At the same moment, Donnie pivoted sharply and unloaded a killer sidekick. The two attacks connected simultaneously, so it was practically impossible to determine who should get the points. Unfortunately, both attacks landed very hard. Charlie's back fist stunned Donnie, and Donnie's sidekick landed right on Charlie's protected ribcage under his left arm. Donnie crumpled where he stood and Charlie went flying and landed in a heap on the edge of the mat.

There was no real need to call "Kalyeo!" because neither contestant was going anywhere at the moment. Young-Soo immediately rushed over to Donnie, hoping to help him control his rage, if necessary, while Master Kim moved quickly to see to Charlie's condition.

Charlie wanted to laugh, but his chest hurt too damn much to inhale that deeply. Master Kim looked into Charlie’s eyes and in Korean-accented English asked, “Are you still alive, Jeja (student) Charlie?”

Charlie did laugh at that, but it darn well hurt, and replied carefully, “I’m not sure, Master Kim. Did you get the license plate number of that bus that just hit me?”

Master Kim, still bent over and was watching Charlie’s eyes closely, said, “Of course. No bus, though. It was Mack Truck, Donnie Colt. Stay still for a bit, so I can check you out and make sure you are okay.”

Master Kim rolled Charlie over so he was face down on the mat, and undid his chest protector. After untying his red belt and dobok, he gingerly inspected Charlie’s ribs. After so many years in so many dojangs, Master Kim had developed an almost x-ray-like sense when it came to detecting broken bones or ribs. Thankfully, Charlie’s many years of getting beaten on in the dojang had given the boy bones that rivaled concrete in terms of hardness and strength. Master Kim rubbed Charlie’s sore rib cage a bit, and surprisingly, that seemed to help quite a bit.

“No broken bones, I think, Jeja Charlie, just lay there for a bit more to recover.”

A worried Donnie Colt laid down on the mat facing Charlie, “You okay, buddy? I didn’t mean to hit you so hard. I’m sorry, Charlie.”

"I'll live, I think," Charlie said, managing to grin at Donnie. "Darn it, Donnie! You moved!"

Donnie snorted out a laugh. “And you didn’t? You zigged when I zagged, man, so this is at least half your fault!”

After a minute or so longer, Charlie got back to his feet slowly. He turned to face away from the judges while he repaired his uniform and retied his belt. Then he turned back around and went to stand on Young-Soo's left side while Donnie took his position on the Joo Sim's right. Young-Soo polled the judges to score the final move sequence. Wilma and Master Kim voted for Donnie's kick while Grandfather Kim and Ricky voted for Charlie's back fist. Rather than cast a vote to break the judges' tie, Young-Soo simply raised both boys' arms, declaring the match a draw.

Suddenly, the dojang erupted with loud cheering and applause. While the two young men and the judges had been focused on their sparring bouts, the dojang had been quietly filling up with students who were arriving for their class. The newcomers had all elected to sit around the mat and watch intently while the two boys fought. When the cheering died down, the students evidently remembered why they were at the dojang and hurried off to get dressed for class.

“Charlie, will you be able to teach your class?” Young-Soo asked.

"Yes, Sa Bum Nim," he replied, even as he cautiously stretched his injured side. "I am a little sore, but it's nothing. I'm good to go for class."

“Good, but don’t be ashamed to ask for help if you need it.”

“I have five new students today, so I’ve already asked Donnie to help me at the start.”

“Very good. Carry on then, adeunim (son).”

Charlie and Donnie hurried to the dressing rooms to get themselves cleaned up for their instructor duties. Stripping quickly, they toweled off their sweat. Charlie combed his hair while Donnie just buffed his head with his towel - one of the advantages of having a shaved head. Finally, with their doboks and belts tidied up, the pair hurried back out to meet with their class.

The group Charlie and Donnie taught consisted of twenty-five kids; all relatively new students wearing white belts and yellow belts. As with any new group, the first few minutes were spent getting everyone arranged. Once everyone had room to move, Charlie began indoctrinating the new students in the basic martial arts courtesies required of all students at the Kim Young-Soo Karate Dojang. This included learning the standard commands and responses in spoken Korean, the proper form for bowing, the appropriate honorifics for use when addressing or responding to someone and the basic stances.

After that was complete, Charlie began to teach in earnest. Charlie particularly focused on pre-class stretching as the most effective way to prevent many injuries, before starting on the basics of punching and kicking. At that point, Charlie had the students practice these new moves while he observed. He turned Donnie loose to get some more work in on the heavy bag.

About forty-five minutes later, Charlie moved the white belts to the side of the mats and began working the yellow belts harder for another twenty minutes. They worked hard to build their endurance and refine skills they'd recently learned.

The final item of their indoctrination program was learning how to finish a class session properly and respectfully. It took a few tries, but in the end, Charlie had them all saying in unison, "Con Sa Hom Nee Dha Sa Bum Nim (thank you for teaching us, teacher)."

Satisfied with their effort, Charlie formally replied, “Chun Mun A Yoe Jeja (you are welcome, students).”

After dismissing his class, Charlie headed back into the dressing room to shower and change into his street clothes. He stripped off his sweaty dobok and looked at himself in the room’s mirror. That was on nasty bruise he had on his left side, but it was nothing that a nice hot shower wouldn’t help. After letting the hot water soothe his aches for a good long while, he soaped up, shampooed and then rinsed off.

Master Kim was waiting for him in the dressing room waiting when Charlie finished drying off. “Let me have another look at you before you dress, Charlie. That was quite a hit you took.” The old man said, feeling the ribs again and rubbing the sore area. “We were surprised that Donnie didn’t go into a rage after the hit he took from you. Instead, he was just very worried about you.”

“I knew I’d nailed him. I really hit him harder than I’d intended. I was worried, too.”

“You needn’t have worried. Young-Soo, my adeunim, was looking out for both of you. Donnie got up and was almost frantic seeing you still down on the mat. He has changed - grown in the time he has been with us. Changed for the better. You have helped in that tremendously. You did well, adeunim.”

“Thank you, Sa Bum Nim.”

Surprisingly, Charlie felt remarkably better after Master Kim had finished working with his side.

“Get dressed, Charlie We are having a meeting with the black and red belts in ten minutes.”

~-~
Charley had to hurry to make the meeting, and he was still the last to arrive.

“Okay, we are all here,” Young-Soo began, “For those of you who missed the Thrilla in Manila we had today featuring Charlie McKellar and Donnie Colt in the main event, we have it on tape. Second, as a reminder, Charlie is turning 16 next Saturday; we will have a party for him after classes are over.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Charlie said.

“Are you defying your teacher?” Master Kim asked.

“No, Master Kim.”

“Good. It is good that Donnie didn’t knock all the sense out of you today.”

That got all the black belts laughing, along with Donnie.

“We have tests in three weeks, who will be ready?” Young-Soo asked.

The three Kims already knew, but they wanted to hear it from their senior students who also served as instructors. They started with the white belts and worked their way to red belts, discussing each candidate's readiness objectively. Uncomfortably for Charlie and Donnie, Grandfather Kim addressed their readiness, in the same manner, speaking about them as if they weren't there, and then the other instructors added their assessments of the two students.

Once compiled, the list of students testing included eight white belts, four yellow belts, four green belts, five blue belts and two red belts testing for their next rank. “Please notify your students who are approved to participate in the testing,” Young-Soo told them. “Charlie, you may tell the red belts.”

“Donnie, you and I are testing for our black belts in three weeks. Please don’t kill me.”

"I'll try not to," Donnie replied deadpan, before giving the smaller boy a brisk knuckle rub on the head.

"Now, we will talk about problem students," Young-Soo said.

“Just one that I know of,” Wilma put in. The other instructors just nodded in resigned agreement. “Robert ‘Tad’ Green,” she continued, “He is still kind of a bad apple. He hasn’t done anything sufficiently overt to be kicked out. Yet. The problem is that he likes to hit other students a lot harder than is necessary when he’s sparring with them. He should be testing this quarter, but he is just so-so, at best, with his poomsae. If he’s not punching or kicking someone, he doesn’t put in the required effort.”

Master Kim knew of Tad’s issues. He had seen the boy change a little, in truth, he was more dangerous in some ways than Donnie. Donnie at least tried to control himself.

“I am not ready to kick the boy out of the school yet,” Master Kim replied thoughtfully. “I feel he still might have a role here. He does, however, bear having closer attention paid to him. We do NOT teach bullies at our school! Charlie, can you be here when he attends his next few classes?”

“Yes, Master Kim, it would be my honor to help.”

They talked about other things for about ten more minutes when the meeting broke up. Young-Soo’s parting words were, “We will discuss and make the needed arrangements for the upcoming test after Charlie’s birthday party. We will also start planning for our summer schedule next Saturday. Take care and have a good week.”

As the group broke up, many of the people there had a good word or two for Charlie and Donnie. The guys gave them pats on the back while Wilma and Tracy gave the boys hugs.

~-~
Amanda McKellar smiled when she saw her son come out of the meeting. She had been talking with Kim Young-Ja, the students called him Grandfather. She honestly didn't like the sport her son had chosen, with its violence and the chance of injury. That aspect turned her off, but she continued to let him participate anyway. He had a mind of his own and he was, she knew, very good at Karate.

Charlie smiled, as he picked up his gear bag. It seemed a little heavier just now. He went over to his mom and gave her a big hug.

“How were your classes, Charlie?”

"They were great, Mom! I am looking forward to testing. Also, we had five new white belts start tonight which was a lot of fun, too, and they look like a pretty good bunch."

“Don’t forget you have finals this week, Charlie. You do have to pass your tests at school, too.”

“I will Mom. I predict I will end the year with four A’s and two B’s.”

“You’re supposed to be working for six A’s, buster,” she chided in her best “Mother” voice.

"Yeah I know," Charlie answered with a bit of a sigh. "But I'm just not a world history buff, Mom, and with the government as screwed up as it is right now? I know the world doesn't need another politician. On top of that, those two teachers cast a spell of sleep on the class just by saying 'Hello, class'."

Amanda couldn’t help herself and giggled as her son described his government teacher and his world history teacher, “I can just see your history teacher. She has a beaked nose and a pointy hat. She has a boiling cauldron on her desk and stirs it, laughing maniacally as she casts a spell of somnolence over the classroom.”

“Yes, that’s her!! Say, did you have her for World History too?” Charlie asked, laughing heartily.

Amanda reached over and gently cuffed her son on the back of his head. “You are too much Charlie. Let’s go get something to eat before I decide to kick your butt.”

Charlie feigned fear and hustled out to his Mom’s car.

~-~
Later, back at home, Charlie hustled up to his room and changed into his favorite ‘knocking around home’ togs - a pair of Spandex compression shorts, running shorts, basketball shoes and a sports tank with armholes open almost to his waist. His Mom was sitting in her usual armchair reading a book, with the TV on in the background. Charlie grabbed the remote and laid back on the couch using his left arm as a pillow. Amanda glanced over at him and her eyes popped up to peer at him over the half lenses of her reading glasses. Then, her eyes narrowed as she focused more closely on the large bruise on the side of his rib cage. Getting up out of her chair, she went over to her son to examine the injury more closely. The bruise was at a slight upward angle and covered parts of five ribs. The center of the bruise was starting to darken significantly.

‘Mother’s finger’ pointed directly at the bruise, and then Amanda demanded, “Charlie, what on earth happened to you?”

“Nothing really, I was just sparring with Donnie. I inadvertently nailed him with a back fist that threw him off his aim and he hit me with a glancing blow from a sidekick harder than he’d intended.”

“I don’t think that was a glancing blow and if it was, he could have hurt you badly with that kick.”

She poked the center of the bruise with her finger and watched for her son’s reaction. He didn’t react. Surprised, she wondered how a bruise that ugly did not hurt? Amanda had Charlie sit up and take off his shirt, so she could get a better look.

“It bothers me that you get hurt like this, son. I know I said that I wouldn’t pull you out of karate and I won’t, but I do wish you would rethink your involvement with it, Charlie.”

“Mom, I like karate and I am very good at it.”

"Apparently, you are not good enough to avoid getting hurt. If you must continue with this, then maybe think about not sparring with Donnie anymore? That boy is almost a grown man. He is so much bigger than you that he scares me sometimes. Or maybe you could get him to take it a little easier when you spar?"

“Can’t do that, Mom. Donnie and I will have to spar against each other on test day and we’ll have to give it our best effort if we want to pass. We can’t take it easy on each other. You’re going to be there, right?”

Amanda managed to stifle a groan and smiled at her son. "You know I will be there. I may have to look away or close my eyes very tightly when you are out there fighting, but I will be there with my cameras."

~-~
Tuesday, after school, it was a very excited Charlie who ran the ten blocks to the dojang. He was going to meet Donnie to learn some more about Jiu-Jitsu. Donnie had begun learning Jiu-Jitsu to broaden his skillset and as another box checked on his application to the school that the UFC ran for aspiring MMA fighters. Donnie had recently earned his brown belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu and was working on his black belt.

While this extra work wasn't a required part of their Taekwondo classes, Master Kim encouraged many of his more advanced students to learn techniques from other martial arts. More than a few overly confident Taekwondo students had been unpleasantly surprised when an opponent used another discipline's techniques to defeat them, whether in a sporting bout or a real fight. Master Kim often invited masters of other such martial arts to acquaint his students with their disciplines. He'd even had a street fighter come to their school to give a demonstration.

The competition form of Jiu-Jitsu is a grappling and submission hold martial arts form. Most techniques consist of joint locks, grappling holds, and chokes. As these could also be used to break bones and render opponents unconscious, Jiu-Jitsu, in a non-sporting encounter, could be very deadly or debilitating, much as the strikes and kicks used in Taekwondo were dangerous. Many police departments trained their officers to use submission holds based on Jiu-Jitsu to control and subdue violent offenders.

About six months earlier, Donnie had been showing Charlie some of the things he'd learned at his Jiu-Jitsu classes while nobody else was around the dojang. Donnie had been demonstrating a hip toss to an armbar when Grandfather Kim had slipped in, unseen by the two youngsters. One thing led to another, and soon he was teaching them the right way to perform such techniques and kicking their asses while doing it! Grandfather Kim even spent an hour just teaching Charlie how to fall and thoroughly enjoyed doing it. Grandfather Kim enjoyed it, that is.

Throughout their impromptu class, Grandfather Kim had regaled them with stories from the time he was with the Republic of Korea Army, teaching soldiers and recruits self-defense, hand to hand combat, knife fighting, and physical conditioning. For two teenage young males who both happened to be 1st Geup Red belts in peak physical condition, getting taken to the woodshed by the 80-plus-year-old Kim Young-Ja in a different art altogether was eye-opening, to say the least. Both Donnie and Charlie were sore after that first session. Out of that grew this once-a-week special class, where they'd get together and practice Jiu-Jitsu with either Grandfather or Master Kim. Donnie, in particular, raved about the twists the two 10th Dan karatekas put on the basic Jiu-Jitsu techniques he'd already learned and was anxious to learn even more.

As had become standard operating procedure for these sessions, the next hour and a half bordered on torture, but both boys were up to the challenge. Today, they'd worked on their grappling, learning new ways to take advantage of their opponent. These were particularly advanced techniques, so while the explanations might make them seem easy, their application to a struggling opponent was anything but easy.

They had worked from the guard and half-guard positions and learned many techniques to gain an advantage, from either the top or the bottom.

"In Jiu-Jitsu, there are two times when one can most easily escape from a bad position or a hold. The first is when your opponent is trying to initially lock up his hold and the second, is when he is trying to adjust his hold and make it a stronger hold," Master Kim explained. "Once the hold is in place and properly applied, it can be very hard, or next to impossible, to break. Always try to keep a way out open for yourself when you commit to a maneuver that your opponent might be able to counter. In a refereed competition, never stop struggling to resist a hold until you can no longer physically tolerate it and then tap out. In a fight for your life? Never give up."

In Taekwondo class later that evening, Charlie assisted Wilma in teaching a class of middle belts. He'd have to spar with Tad tonight because the instructors had decided that the green belt could only be allowed to spar with black or red belts capable of defending themselves against Tad's tendency to strike harder than appropriate. The Kims had decided they would not expel the boy, YET, but neither were they going to let any other of their students face Tad and get hurt.

The problem was that Tad could hit hard, very hard in fact, and he didn't seem to know how to, or more likely, to want to pull his punches and kicks. In their sparring session, Charlie got tagged a time or two but Tad didn't hit nearly as hard as Donnie, so he handled that all right. From Tad's perspective, however, Charlie was like a giant hornet; he was very hard to hit but his counterstrikes really stung whenever he decided to hit Tad. Only difference? When Charlie hit Tad, he did pull his punches. He wasn't out to hurt the dude, and he was trying to help teach him proper sparring etiquette and technique.

Sadly, that wasn’t working for Charlie as he could tell that Tad was getting very frustrated. In pure retaliation, he laid several hard shots on Charlie, blows that would have hurt less experienced and capable students. Charlie responded to each shot with a goofy smile, while he dodged away from the next blow. Tad’s focus on offense was such that Charlie had no problem hitting Tad at will with counter punches or kicks. Completely frustrated, Tad even tried to grab and hold the smaller boy so he could hit him more easily. That didn’t work for him either.

Wilma allowed this to continue for over seven minutes before she decided to have mercy on Tad. When she called the two of them to break, Tad immediately collapsed to the mat, gasping for air as he tried to catch his breath. Charlie did a backflip away from Tad, landing in a full Chinese split.

Abruptly, Tad pulled out his mouthpiece and gasped, “God… I… hate you… Charlie.”

Charlie took out his mouthpiece and asked, "Why? What have I ever done to you, Tad?"

Tad just laid there on the mat, silently staring at Charlie until he'd recovered enough to stand up. Then, he just turned and walked away, heading for the dressing room.

~-~
Thursday started as a pretty good day from Charlie's point of view. He finished his last test for this high school year. Then, he had another night class with Tad. Uncertain how best to deal with the problem student, Charlie decided to take pity on the other kid that night and let himself seem to get hit hard during their spar. When Tad wasn't angry, which wasn't often, he showed some pretty decent form with his offensive techniques. The only reason he wasn't a blue belt yet was his lack of progress in learning and mastering his required poomsae. The instructors probably would have put him up for this coming round of testing if he had an average or even a little below average skill in his poomsae. He didn't. Often, he would forget the order of the techniques, turn in the wrong direction, or his execution of the technique was just too sloppy. When he did the forms together with other students, his miscues just became even more obvious.

That night after class, the black and red belts had another meeting to discuss what to do next with Tad. After a lively and sometimes heated discussion, they decided they would keep Tad on as a student but continue to limit his sparring to a shortlist of approved black and red belts. Charlie was on the list, but Wilma, Traci, Ricky and Donnie weren't. Wilma, Tracy and Ricky were all slight of build and while they had the necessary skills, Tad was big enough and strong enough that he might hurt them. Donnie was off the list because of his rage control issues. Tad pulling any crap with Donnie might lead to Tad getting hurt very badly.

~-~
Friday was Freedom Day! The high school students were let out at noon and Charlie almost sprinted home. Monday he would start working part-time at the dojang overseeing the Kims' summer program for kids six to fourteen. He was looking forward to earning $250 a week, but that meant that today and this weekend would be his last free time for a while. Checking the time, Charlie figured he had an hour or so to swim in his home pool before he had to leave to meet Donnie at the dojang. The June afternoon temperatures were edging up into hot, so a dip in the pool before class was just what the doctor ordered.

Kids were running around and playing when he turned onto his street. He stopped short, catching a thrown football and then passed it back to the boys. Some small girls were playing hopscotch, while others were playing tag. Everything was going fine until he got near his home.

Mr. Pritchard lived two houses down and across the street from Charlie. Mr. Pritchard was paranoid and had just bought a fully grown, adult Pit Bull for home protection. Mrs. Pritchard had left the home’s solid-core front door open and left the tempered glass and screened storm door shut.

One of the football throws went awry, and several kids chased after it, running across Pritchard's lawn in their pursuit. Pritchard's dog, Tinkerbell, had been sitting at the door watching the activity outside. When the boys ran past, Tinkerbell exploded through the tempered glass, intent on bringing down the kids who had trespassed on his master's property.

Charlie recognized the threat to the kids and immediately ran to intercept the dog, but Tinkerbell won the foot race and knocked one of the boys down right in the middle of the street. The dog skidded past the fallen boy only to turn back on him. Instinctively, the boy rolled into the fetal position, covering up his head and neck with his arms and body. That move probably saved his life. The out-of-control Tinkerbell latched onto one of his victim’s arms and began to shake him around like a rag doll.

With the dog's jaws clamped on his victim, Charlie didn't dare kick or punch the animal for fear of making things worse. Reacting without hesitation, he fell on top of the dog, stunning the animal but Tinkerbell still didn't release his grip on the boy's now badly bleeding arm. Charlie did a back mount on the dog, and snaked his arm around the dog's neck, attempting a rear-naked chokehold. Once he grabbed his arm, Charlie cinched down on the hold with all of his might until, finally, the dog released the boy. Another passer-by pulled the child away, but Charlie kept his hold on the dog.

By this time, Mr. Pritchard had arrived on the scene and tried to get Charlie off the struggling dog. Outraged at Charlie’s refusal to let his dog go, he started screaming at and kicking Charlie. That lasted only until the injured boy’s older brother knocked Pritchard to the ground and kept him there away from Charlie.

Witnesses at the scene later reported that Charlie had maintained his hold on the dog for over three minutes. When he finally released his hold, his arms were sore from the strain and he just laid back on the street, panting next to the dead dog. Sirens in the distance announced the imminent arrival of an ambulance or fire truck. Within minutes, a fire engine, an ambulance with EMTs and a police car had all arrived at the scene.

The EMTs rushed over to Jimmy Wilson, the boy that had been bitten. The engine’s crew went over and saw to Charlie, while the police officer and his watch sergeant began questioning the gathered witnesses. Mr. Pritchard began shouting at the officers to arrest Charlie for killing his dog. He became so incensed that he had to be restrained and secured in the back of one of the patrol cars.

A car that had almost hit Charlie as he raced across the road to stop the dog attack, was driven by a lady, who gave the most complete blow-by-blow description of events. She had even sacrificed a very nice off-white linen jacket to help staunch the bleeding from Jimmy's arm. The officers, after hearing her account along with the statements of other witnesses, placed Mr. Pritchard under arrest. While the patrol officer took the man to the local precinct for booking, Sgt. Whitcomb began to interview a slowly recovering Charlie.

“You’re Charlie McKellar, right?” Sgt. Whitcomb asked.

“Yes sir.”

“Are you all right, son?”

“My arms are sore and my left side hurts pretty bad. The firemen want me to go get x-rays, but I think I am all right.”

“You will be taken to the hospital. You were assaulted and you need to be checked out so that we have that information as evidence. Now, tell me what happened as you saw things.”

Charlie closed his eyes as he tried to recall every detail. "I had just turned the corner coming home from school - school let out at noon today. Billy Brooks threw a football at me and I had to stop and catch it before I threw it back. I'd almost made it home," Charlie told the Sergeant, pointing to his own home, "When I saw that pit bull bust through that storm door and run after some kids. I just reacted. By the time I got to them, the dog was shaking Jimmy around. I fell on the dog and did a back mount. I then executed a rear-naked chokehold on the dog - I don't know how long I held it - but the dog was dead when I let him go. I wasn't about to release the hold and then have to fight him again. I was so focused; I didn't know what was happening around me. I'm pretty sure somebody kicked me in the ribs, but I can't tell you who though."

“That’s it?” The Sergeant asked, his tone gruff but kind. At Charlie’s weary nod, he closed his notebook, “Well, that’s all I need for now except for a parent’s phone number. Just to be clear? That fire lieutenant will have my hide if I don’t let him take you to a hospital, so kid? You’re going. I’ll call your parents and make sure they know where you are.”

“555-6436. My Mom is Amanda McKellar. She is a Paralegal for McKenzie, Davis and Lee. Sir? I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

“Shit! A law office?! Looks like it sucks to be Mr. Pritchard today. Don’t argue with me about the hospital son. Just suck it up and go with Lieutenant James.”

The lead fireman offered Charlie a hand up into the pumper truck and climbed in after him. On the way to the hospital, Charlie called Young-Soo on his cell phone.

“Hello, Kim Young-Soo’s Karate. Young-Soo speaking.”

“Hi Mr. Kim, this is Charlie, I won’t be in tonight.”

“Why not, Charlie?”

“Well, I am on my way to the hospital. There was a boy attacked by a dog in my neighborhood today. I, uh, kind of got involved. . .”

“Did the dog hurt you?” Young-Soo’s voice was suddenly very intense.

"No, I wasn't directly attacked by the dog. I stopped the dog attack, but my arms are sore from the rear naked chokehold I put on the dog. The dog is dead, but I was also kicked in the ribs by the dog's owner, or so I've been told. The police and the firemen insisted that I go to the hospital. I'm really okay, Sa Bum Nim! I mean, the guy kicked like a girl, but…"

“You should go to the hospital, Charlie. Do what you are told. Does your mother know yet?”

“The police promised they’d call her.”

“Good, Master Kim will meet you at the hospital. Bye.”

“Bye,” Charlie said to the sudden buzzing of a dial tone.

The engine had to stop a short distance away from the Emergency Room turning circle. The engine was too massive to make the turn, so an orderly with a wheelchair met them out in the driveway. Charlie complained that he didn't need the blasted wheelchair, but it was like talking to a brick wall. The orderly wheeled Charlie to the Emergency Room and straight into a treatment room. For all that, however, Charlie got to see his mother a half-hour before he ever saw the doctor. When the doctor finally arrived, he checked Charlie out, commenting on the bruising and then sending him to radiology for x-rays.

Then Charlie had to sit and wait some more until after the doctor had received and reviewed the x-rays, only to be sent back to radiology for a bone density test.

After yet another hour’s wait, the doctor came back into Charlie’s treatment room.

“Well, am I going to live, Doctor?” Charlie asked, more than just a little impatiently by this time. He’d even missed lunch, darn it!

“Oh ah, Mmm, yes. Most certainly you will live. I just needed to check something out to make sure the x-rays weren’t somehow messed up. I couldn’t believe how opaque your bones were to the x-rays. I’ve never encountered such bone density before, particularly in someone so young. Are you into martial arts?”

“Yes sir. I practice Taekwondo.”

“Have you gone through Iron Shirt Discipline?”

“I don’t think so,” Charlie answered with a little shrug. “What is that?”

“Well, it is a method used in some martial arts disciplines to toughen the body up. As I understand it, that would involve repeatedly striking the body with hard rods to cause microfractures that then heal up. The healed bones become much stronger and denser.”

“Nope. I haven’t done that.”

“Well, as it stands now, you may never have to worry about breaking any of your bones. I am just amazed.”

“So, can I go now?”

“Yes, there isn’t a thing wrong with you. I’ll prescribe some muscle relaxers for your sore arms. Take one and only one, every eight to ten hours. Take at least three of them. You should be all right in a day or two. I have also given your Mom a script for some Tylenol #3 for the pain.”

“How is Jimmy Wilson? He is the boy that the dog attacked.”

Shaking his head, the doctor grimaced. "He's in surgery right now. After that, it will still be a while before we know anything for certain."

Amanda and Charlie left the ER and were surprised to see about a dozen people from the dojang in the waiting area. Grandfather Kim, Master Kim, Donnie, Wilma and even little Ricky had come and waited to find out how Charlie was doing. Charlie went to meet his friends when he heard someone shout, "There he is, Mom! that's the kid that killed that dog." Stopping abruptly, Charlie went into a defensive position as he searched for whoever had just yelled.

Charlie barely had time to brace himself before Delores Wilson, crying and smiling at the same time, almost ran Charlie over as she hugged him fiercely, “Thank you for saving my little Jimmy. I don’t know how you did it, Charlie! That dog was huge, but thank you, thank you, thank you!” Delores then turned to Amanda for support and to talk to another mother.

David Wilson, Jimmy’s brother, picked Charlie up in a bear hug. “Thank you, Charlie.”

“Oww, ow, Oww! Watch the ribs, guy! Please.”

“Sorry, I forgot.”

“How is your brother, David?” Charlie asked after he’d been put back down on the floor.

“He is in surgery. The doctors are trying to save his arm. God, he may lose it, Charlie.” David said, crying unashamedly.

“Damn. I’m sorry, David. I tried to save him.”

“You did, Charlie, you did! That damn dog would have killed him if not for you.”

Charlie was saved from having to reply when his friends mobbed him. Many 'atta boys', compliments and pats on his back ensued. What surprised the hell out of him, however, was when Grandfather and Master Kim both bowed to him.

Amanda and Charlie, along with his friends from the dojang, stayed to support Delores and David while they waited for news on Jimmy's surgery. About half an hour later, they were joined by Brian Wilson, Jimmy's Dad. It was a long and tense vigil for all of them.

Finally, sometime after midnight, a very tired-looking surgeon came out into the waiting room to speak with Mr. And Mrs. Wilson. "Mr. Wilson, your son will live, of that, we are as sure as we can be. He lost a lot of blood, but the first aid he received at the scene and on the trip here was outstanding. You need to thank whoever stopped the bleeding. Even so, the tissues of the arm were blood starved for an extended time which complicates things. The main danger we face right now is restoring the circulation in his arm and preventing postoperative infection. Infections we can fight, but if the circulation doesn't return, he may yet lose the arm. We won't know for several more days, maybe a week."

"Jimmy's humerus bone was all but crushed. Pit Bulls have extraordinarily strong bite force. We patched the bone back together as best we could, cleaned out all the extraneous bone chips and used calcium cement to bind it together. We then put a rod in to protect the bone. We will worry about scarring and plastic surgery later, once we know that the arm is safe.

“There is a significant amount of nerve damage, I’m afraid, somewhere from moderate to severe, as far as we can tell now. Sadly, the arm will likely never be as good as it was. Jimmy will likely be in the hospital for two or three weeks, minimum. We’re just not sure right now,” the doctor finished with an exhausted sigh. “I wish I had better news.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Mr. Wilson said. “We’ll worry about the arm later. For now? Our son is ALIVE. That boy over there?” he said, pointing at Charlie, “Somehow, he got the dog off of Jimmy. And then there was this lady at the scene who gave him the initial first aid. It’s really hard to believe how much damage that dog did in just a few seconds.”

Nodding, the doctor managed a smile. “Well, that lady saved Jimmy’s life, just as much as Charlie did by getting that dog off of him. There was extensive arterial damage to his arm. He might have bled to death before the EMTs could have reached him without that lady’s first aid.”

Amanda and Charlie stayed for a little while longer before saying goodbye, then they left to get some rest.

~-~

Saturday was Charlie's birthday, but they slept in after their late night, getting up around ten o'clock. Amanda took Charlie out to eat at one of the twenty-four-hour diners, and Charlie picked up a newspaper to read while they waited for their food. They quickly became aware that they were receiving more than the expected amount of scrutiny. People kept looking at him and his mom, whispering among themselves, heads turning as they walked towards the back of the diner to sit at a booth. Charlie's ears were itching.

They ordered drinks while they looked over the menu. Charlie didn't need the menu. He just ordered the same big breakfast that he always ordered. That done, he opened the newspaper and glanced at the headlines.

"Oh my god, Mother," Charlie breathed raspily, as he showed his mom the paper's front page. There, in the lower right-hand corner, were two pictures of Charlie! One picture of him sitting on the diamond plate step of the fire engine while the other was an older photo of Charlie posing in his dobok wearing his 1st Geup Red Belt. It had been taken just after he had tested for the red belt with the black stripe about eight months earlier. Worse yet, there was a seven-column inch article about him mostly on the front page. The reporter had managed to get an interview with Brian and Delores Wilson as well as one from Master Kim. Well, Charlie mused, guess he must have given them the second photo.

When their teenage waitress came back to their table to deliver their orders, she asked, “That’s you on the cover of the paper, isn’t it? You’re Charlie McKellar, aren’t you?”

“Yes, that is me,” Charlie mumbled, clearly embarrassed at all the attention.

“You are a hero, Charlie!”

“I didn’t do anything special. I just saw something that needed to be done and did it.”

“Still, I go to school with David. I couldn’t imagine having something like that happen to my sister. Don’t sell yourself short! You are a hero! I know I could never have gotten a pit bull off of someone.”

~-~

Amanda took her son to the dojang and, unusually for her, elected to go inside with him. It seemed like everybody that went to Young-Soo's school was there and they all applauded as he came back into the back. Grandfather called everyone to attention and then ordered them to bow to the embarrassed young man. Charlie just stood there shaking for several very long seconds, before he managed to recover himself enough to return the bow.

Young-Soo came up to Charlie, "Charlie, we are very proud of you. You may think that what you did wasn't extraordinary, but it was. Too often in our society, we suffer from what is called diffusion of responsibility. People wait on other people who are around to do something. There are not enough people in this world who will run to a disaster to help those in need. Most people run away. It isn't that they are cowards, rather it is that they aren't prepared to pay the price that intervention may require and lack the preparation to intervene effectively. What you did brings great credit to yourself and your family and is in keeping with the highest standards of the philosophy of the World Taekwondo Federation. While the world may believe in might is right, we believe in Might for Right. We want to present you with a plaque in honor of your feat. Thank You."

Young-Soo lifted a plaque so that he could read it out loud for everyone in the room. "This is to acknowledge that First Geup Red Belt, Charlie McKellar, at great risk to his own person, saved a fellow human being's life. He brought honor to himself, to Kim Young-Soo's Karate and to everyone who holds life precious."

For about twenty-five minutes everyone congratulated Charlie. Pictures were taken, newspapers were autographed and Charlie was immensely embarrassed by all the attention. Still, he managed to play along with everyone but was intensely grateful when Master Kim finally brought the festivities to an end and made sure everyone knew they had work to do. Charlie, he announced, was to have the first training bout. Charlie brightened at that and was eager to spar with Donnie. Until Master Kim surprised him by saying that he would be fighting Little Ricky Summers.

“Aw, do I hafta?” Charlie groaned dramatically. “Gee Whiz, Master Kim, I’ll need a motorcycle to keep up with that little fart. Can I at least weigh him down with about fifty extra pounds or maybe tie his legs together first?”

While Charlie's dojang nickname was the Giant Hornet, Little Ricky was their resident mosquito. Charlie was in no danger of being hurt; Ricky just didn't have the power or will to hurt anyone. In fact, the three Kims were trying every trick in their book to find a way, ANY way, to help Ricky get used to hitting harder. The big thing about Ricky was that while Charlie was fast and quick? Ricky was just plain faster and quicker. Charlie knew this was going to be a very entertaining bout. To watch. To be Ricky's opponent? Maybe not so much.

After Charlie and Ricky both stretched out and warmed up, they both got their punches, kicks and mouthpieces. That is all these two would need because Ricky couldn't hit that hard and Charlie wouldn't. Wilma was designated the Joo Sim or referee for this bout. After checking that after both students were ready, she called for their bows and waited as they assumed their ready stance. She gave a quick glance to the Kims who were serving as judges, and with their nods, shouted, "Sijak,"

It. Was. On!

Charlie spent most of the next eight minutes or so just trying to get close enough to the little sucker to just land a blow. He was careful when he did tag him. Ricky, however, tagged Charlie plenty of times as the minutes went by. In the end, he had been forced to hit Charlie harder to keep him off of him, which pleased the Kims.

“Damn it! Slow down, you little fart! Let me hit you real good at least once, wise guy.” Charlie ranted as he stalked the smaller boy.

"Not in a pig's eye, Charlie,"Ricky shouted back, while he continued dodging about the mat. "Catch me if you can, slowpoke!"

Charlie had a better chance of catching the wind and knew it.

The two of them must have touched every square inch of the mat several times in the course of the eight-minute bout. Wilma only stopped them a few times, when a particularly good blow landed. She would formally acknowledge that person's effort, check to see if the other person was fit to continue, and then determine scoring if any. For a while there, it seemed that Ricky could backpedal faster than Charlie could go forward, and both fighters were exhausted when Master Kim finally shouted, "Kalyeo!"

Charlie felt like he had sprinted a mile or two and fell to the mat to catch his breath. Ricky stuck his head in Charlie’s face and smiled smugly. Ricky was tired too, but he sure wasn’t going to admit that to Charlie.

“Dang it, Ricky, if you ever learn to hit harder, you’re gonna be one bad dude. You could run an opponent to death and then finish them off after they’d collapsed.”

Ricky couldn’t resist. He smartly tagged Charlie on the shoulder and then quickly scurried out of reach, “You know it, Charlie.”

The next bout proved to be just as entertaining. For the first time in a long time, Donnie had to face Grandfather Kim on the mat. It was quite a sight seeing a nearly ninety-year-old man putting the hurt on the tall muscular young man. Grandfather Kim took one of Donnie's best punches and just shook it off. Grandfather smiled, as he got to remember how it was back in Korea in the fifties and sixties. The match didn't last long because Master Kim took pity on Donnie.

Next on the training plan was more test preparations for Donnie and Charlie. They had to design a breaking routine for test day. Charlie would be breaking boards. He had one student hold four, one by twelve by twelve boards, waist-high, with both hands. Another student held another board with two fingers, head high, by the first student's right side. Charlie turned, took a step and positioned another student with a head-high board, with two fingers. Across from him, another student held two boards held by two hands. A few steps away another student held four boards, in two hands and lastly, a student on a ladder, held one board about seven feet off the floor, with two fingers.

He then turned to the black belts, “Ok, left foot sidekick power break, a ridge hand speed break, round kick speed break, an elbow power break, spinning hook kick power break and a jump 360 hook kick impulse break.”

The black belts approved the proposed routine.

Charlie positioned himself and assumed a ready position. Master Kim shouted, "Sijak!"

Charlie took two steps forward and landed a front leg sidekick, breaking four boards. He stepped forward with his right foot and threw a ridge hand, with his right hand, breaking the board. He reversed, took three steps back, round kick - break - changed direction and broke two boards with an elbow strike. He spun as he crossed the floor, hook kick, break, step, jump, 360 hook kick - break. The entire routine took all of eight seconds.

Donnie chose to power break pegged bricks (bricks stacked with spacers between each brick.) This is harder to do, as the breaker has to power through each brick. He had five stacks of four bricks and one of six. He broke them with a punch, a double forearm smash on two stacks, a hammer blow, a knife strike, and an ax kick, breaking six bricks. Donnie broke everything in style and had a broad smile on his face.

After the breaking, Donnie and Charlie split the white and yellow belt classes between them. Donnie took the students who would be testing in two weeks and Charlie taught the rest of the students. These classes lasted an hour and a half. Charlie worked his class hard - almost to the point of exhaustion. Seeing his students put so much effort into his class made Charlie smile. This was a very good group of kids and they had a great class today. Donnie had worked his students harder because they were up for their tests but was also pleased with their efforts and their results.

As the classes bowed out and thanked their teachers, someone shouted, “Charyut!” Causing everyone in the dojang to snap to attention. Grandfather Kim, Master Kim and Young-Soo entered the dojang. Charlie called for his students to turn to them and bow. After the students had bowed, the three Kims parted and several senior students brought in a birthday cake and set it on a table.

Amanda and a host of other, non-karate friends came in, too, including Brian and Dolores Wilson and their son, David. These were followed by the district Fire Chief Matt Davis, the Police Chief Arnold Wainwright, both of whom were in full dress uniforms, along with the Mayor, Mr. Clay Carlson. Everyone was singing ‘Happy Birthday’ as they came in to join the celebration. That complete, the Mayor presented Charlie with the city’s Civilian Certificate of Valor. Idly, Charlie wondered if it would EVER stop?!?

For the next hour or so, a good time was had by all. As the guest of honor, Charlie found himself saran-wrapped to a chair. Still, he managed to blow out all the candles on his cake and then was treated to his share of the cake. Valerie Stevens, a very pretty sixteen-year-old, fifth green belt, planted herself in Charlie's wrapped lap and proceeded to hand feed him, very daintily, his cake. The only person in the room who didn't know Valerie had a big-time crush on Charlie was, of course, Charlie. Most of the girls at the school knew it, too, so Charlie had sort of been claimed as Valerie's and was now definitely off-limits to the other girls who giggled about it behind his back.

“Guys can just be so dense at times,” one of them observed to Amanda who also already knew and she just smiled.

When he was finally released to open his presents, Charlie just couldn’t believe all the presents he received. Everybody applauded as he unwrapped and then held up each present. Then he’d thank the giver before repeating the process with the next brightly colored package. He was embarrassed by the extravagance and expense of some of the presents.

The Wilson family's gift was last. First, they thanked him again and then told him that the doctors just told them that Jimmy's arm seemed to be getting better. He'd still have a long and probably painful recovery, but now there was hope. Brian gave Charlie the keys to a 2008 BMW 318 convertible.

Everyone told him that it was one sweet car after they'd gone outside to look at it. Charlie tried to turn them down. He didn't even have a license yet and it was really too much. Brian Wilson worked at the prime BMW dealership in town, and he told Charlie that he had taken the car in trade recently. When his boss had heard what Charlie had done for the Wilson family, the man had given it to Brian to give to Charlie. The car was beautifully detailed, looked brand new and only had thirty thousand miles on the odometer.

And Charlie was going to have it! Period.

Young-Soo offered to drive Charlie and his new car home after the black belt meeting and Amanda accepted his offer. She loaded up Charlie's gifts along with the leftover cake into her car and left for home.

The black belt meeting ran long that evening. Young-Soo helped plan the summer schedule with the red belts and 1st Dan black belts, while Grandfather Kim and Master Kim planned the belt test, with the more senior black belts.

Charlie and Young-Soo arrived at his mom’s house right after eight-thirty. Amanda opened the garage door so that Young-Soo could park Charlie's Beemer next to Amanda's two-year-old Chrysler 300. After a few parting words, Master Kim drove his son home.

~-~

Amanda checked on her son after he went to sleep. She found what she dreaded, what she had expected all along. She rubbed his back and triggered the change. Then she kissed his cheek, shed a tear and left him to his dreams. Amanda now had a great deal of work to do before this night was over.

~-~

Charlie woke unusually late the next morning and stumbled groggily into the bathroom. Ordinarily a morning person, everything seemed somehow foggy and just a step out of phase. He carefully made his way to the toilet, sat down and took care of business, wiping before he stood. Something was definitely strange and different, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. At least, not until he’d gotten his toothbrush and toothpaste, and looked in the mirror. THAT snapped things together in a great big hurry. It was like the fog parted and instead of seeing himself in the mirror, he saw this very pretty girl. Only, it wasn’t some girl, it was Charlie. . . And no, it wasn’t Charlie. The girl in the mirror was Christie.

And he was her. . .she was him . . . Oh hell!

Christie dropped her toothbrush into the sink, calmly turned and walked out of the bathroom. She only paused long enough to grab and put on her(?) brightly colored silk kimono robe before striding downstairs to find her mother. And hopefully get, some freakin’ answers!

“Mother, Mother, where are you?” Christie asked, a lot more calmly than her level of internal confusion and turmoil warranted. She should be shouting her head off right now. That was almost as disconcerting as seeing . . . her in the mirror.

Almost.

“In here, baby,” her Mom called out from the kitchen, “What do you need?”

“Mother, something terrible happened last night. Either that or I am going out of my mind and need to see a shrink like right now!”

“You are not going out of your mind and you do not need to see a psychiatrist. Please sit down at the breakfast bar and eat your breakfast. We have a great deal to talk about.”

“But Mom…?”

“Sit and eat. All will be made clear to you, dear. I promise.”

Christie recognized this particular 'Mom-mode' of Amanda's - pure strong-headed determination. There would be no explanations, no answers until she was ready to talk and she wouldn't be ready until they were through eating breakfast. Evidently, it was the kind of talk that wouldn't be good for digestion. Somehow, Christie didn't doubt that one bit.

They did talk as they ate, but it was along the lines of forced small talk. How about the weather; what did she think about this news item or wasn't that play or movie interesting. Well experienced in dealing with her Mother's foibles, Christie lightly buttered her toast and poured out a precise half a cup of toasted oat cereal which she blended with half a cup of wheat bran. Odd, but her outward demeanor, her overt reactions were halfway calm as if this were just another Sunday morning in the McKellar household. Inside? She wanted to be screaming and shouting and raising absolute hell! How can her Mom be so oblivious to all this? To HER?!? Her Mom? Hell, why was she behaving so calmly about all this?

When they had FINALLY finished eating, Amanda said, "Put your dishes in the sink and come with me to the living room. We'll see to the dirty dishes later but for now, we need to talk and we might as well be as comfortable as possible."

Christie followed her Mom into the living room. Amanda gestured her to the couch and, then to Christie's surprise, did not move to sit in her favorite armchair. Instead, she settled by Christie on the couch.

“Christie, I know you have a thousand questions, but first listen for a few minutes, okay? Trust me, it will make things clearer if not more simple in the long run.”

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good. You aren't going crazy. Yesterday you were a boy, almost a young man named Charlie, and today you are a girl, almost a young woman named Christie. Are you with me so far?"

"Yes, Ma'am. If I'm not crazy, the mirror doesn't lie."

Amanda smiled and looked deeply into Christie’s eyes, “The short explanation is usually the best in these situations. I am a sorceress. I have magical powers. You are becoming aware of many of these things for the first time today. When a sorceress has a male child, there is a one out of two probability that her male child will transform into a female and come into power themselves. I know that you have studied genetics in school so you will understand that represents a sex-linked dominant trait associated with the X chromosome. One of my X chromosomes has the genes that map to traits for magic.”

"Unfortunately, there is no way for us to determine whether or not that child can or will become a sorcerer or a sorceress until the trigger appears. That trigger appears or it doesn't on the child's sixteenth birthday."

“Yesterday, was my sixteenth birthday,”Christie observed.

“Correct. Last night, after you fell asleep, I slipped into your room and sat by you. At a little after midnight, I detected the trait’s trigger begin to form inside you. I then triggered the transformation that resulted in Charlie becoming Christie.”

"So, you turned me into a girl, Mom? For God's sake WHY? Wasn't I good enough as a boy? Did you feel you just had to turn my life upside down, just because of this. . .this trigger thing?"

Surprising Christie yet again, Amanda didn't get mad. "Christie, I know, personally, just how unsettling and scary this experience is for you, and I wouldn't have done it unless it was absolutely necessary! However, I didn't change you into a girl. It was the magic that chose your form. It's complicated, and while we have a lot of statistical information - 75% of the boys that have this potential are transformed into girls and 25% of the girls with it become boys - we don't understand why it happens that way. Girls who do get transformed are considered lucky in the sorcery community because they are typically more powerful and easier to train than sorceresses who don't change sex. And since some male sorcerers don't go through this for some reason, it turns out the same way for the boys - transformed individuals are generally stronger magically and learn it more easily and quickly."

“So I am stuck as a girl and will have to live out my life as a girl,” Christie said, in a disgruntled tone. “And fate throws me the bone of having magic powers? Not sure I like the deal, Mom.”

"No, dear, you are not stuck as a girl. Consider this . . .little experience a challenge or a test like your Taekwondo belt tests. There are some lessons for you to learn, some skills you will have to master before you can start your magical training. After all that, the first major magic you will perform will be your transformation back into a boy, albeit a year older boy on your seventeenth birthday."

“How am I going to be able to go to school and live as a girl? Everybody thinks I am a boy named Charlie?”

“Do they? Think back and remember your school years. Not just last year, but all the way back to pre-school. In fact, tell me what Christie, not Charlie, did last weekend?”

Surprised by the question, it took Christie about five seconds to answer her Mom, "After Ballet class, you and I got dressed and went into Philadelphia to go shopping and out to eat before attending the ballet."

“Good. And what did you do on your twelfth birthday, Christie?”

“We took a train to New York City and stayed in a hotel there. We went out to eat at Le Bernardin and then we went to the Met to see the Bolshoi Ballet Company perform ‘Giselle’.”

"Good. Your memory is intact. Christie, I am sorry this happened to you, but you are going to have the life you would have had if you were born a girl. Everybody who knows Christie knows that she is a very pretty girl who dances ballet."

“So Young-Soo and the rest know me as Christie?”

“I am afraid not, dear. Check your memories. Christie has been taking ballet lessons since she was eight years old. She never took Karate.”

“Why Mom?” Christie blurted, as close to an emotional breakdown as whatever was inhibiting her would allow, “Why did you have to do this? Wasn’t I good enough as ME for you? Did you truly have to do this to me?”

Amanda knew her child, and she knew she would face this question. Heavens, she had asked the same question of HER Mother so many years ago. Hopefully, her answer would be better accepted than her Mother's attempt had been. "Wait here, Christie. Let me go get something." Amanda left and returned quickly, carrying two plastic boxes that she placed on the coffee table in front of Christie. "What is in these two boxes, Christie?"

"Inside the larger gray box is your Ruger P95 9 millimeter semi-automatic pistol. The other box is a cleaning kit for the pistol. You taught me how to shoot with it years ago, Mom."

“Yes, I taught my son, Charlie and I taught my daughter, Christie, how to shoot and how to take care of the pistol properly. I want you to clean the weapon, Christie.”

Nodding, Christie looked up at her Mother. “May I have the key, Mom?”

Amanda dug into her purse, pulled out her key ring and handed it to Christie. Christie took the keys and unlocked the box containing the pistol. Then she stopped and looked to her left at her Mother, again. “Mom, would you please sit on my right side? You are in the potential line of fire there.”

Pleased that Christie was as careful as Charlie had been, Amanda quickly complied. The gun inside the box would be pointing to Christie’s left, and she did not want anyone in the line of fire until she was sure it was safe.

Christie opened the box and took the gun out of the case. She removed the magazine, which she put on the table and then carefully cycled the slide, ejecting the chambered round into her hand. Christie took that round and inserted it into the magazine. Then she pulled the slide back on the pistol several times, locking the slide open before inspecting the chamber. Seeing that the gun was unloaded, she pulled the slide release pin and removed the slide. She then removed the recoil spring and the barrel. She carefully inspected everything for cracks and wear before she began cleaning and oiling the parts. Finished, she reassembled the pistol, pointing the barrel in a safe direction, reinserted the magazine, cycled the slide to load one round into the chamber and pressed the de-cocking safety lever. She then laid the pistol back in its place in the box.

“What was that lever just before you put the gun back in the case?”

“It is the de-cock safety lever.”

“Why did you depress that lever?”

"Because no matter how safe a gun may appear, with the hammer back, there could always be the possibility of some freak accident that might fire the gun accidentally."

"That is right. Last night, when that magical trigger began to appear, Charlie became like that gun with the hammer back, only worse. Unlike my Ruger, Charlie didn't have a hammer decock lever. He was primed, loaded, and on an unsafe hair trigger. I did nothing more than make him safe the only way that I could. If I hadn't done that last night, then sometime in the future the gun inside of Charlie would have gone off and Charlie could have been transformed without the benefit of the spells I cast while you slept. Christie would have emerged without a calming spell and without a history. I could have come back later and tried to pick up the pieces, and maybe I could have put you back together again. But maybe not. Bad things could have happened, permanent kinds of things, things like dying, because you went crazy wondering what happened."

"Christie, you don't know how painful that was for me last night; having to be the one to pull your trigger. However, it was infinitely better that I did it then with all the safeguards I could manage for you than to have it just happen some random time in the future. One way or another, Christie, that transformation was going to happen to you eventually."

“Well, why didn’t you tell me all this before? At least warn me?”

“Oh sure, Christie, that would have worked - NOT! Hey Charlie, I got something to tell you. You might not believe it, but you may wake up as a girl tomorrow, Charlie. Don’t worry, I’ll help you learn to change back again, maybe in a year or so,” Amanda said. “You didn’t believe in magic till today, I bet?”

“Well, how am I going to live after today? There are so many things I don’t know about being a girl.”

“You have training wheels. You know as much about being a girl right now, as Charlie knew about being Charlie yesterday. You just need to do something; don’t think about it. Let me prove it.”

“Just to be fully fair and open about this, I’ll tell you that I am putting a small magical compulsion on you. Tonight, we are going to have dinner at Donatello’s at seven with your grandmother. Get yourself dressed up and ready to go by then. Right now, I am extremely tired and I need some sleep. Wake me at five and then get yourself ready. In the meantime, resolve your memories,” Amanda said, kissing Christie’s forehead. “Oh, and don’t worry. Nothing about your transformation will disturb you or upset you today. You also have what I call a valium spell on you. So you will be calm enough to think rationally.”

Well, that explained why Christie had been acting so calmly. She didn’t like what her mom had said, but assuming she had told her the truth - and Christie was absolutely certain her Mother told her the truth - her explanation and her decisions made sense. On top of that, her mom did look exhausted. “Go get some rest Mom, I will be alright.”

"I know, sweetie. I know you will."Kissing her daughter on her forehead, Amanda collected her gun and cleaning kit and headed off to her room.

Christie continued to sit there on the couch for an hour and thought about her life. So she was in ballet, she thought. She went to her room and opened the pink gear bag she found in her closet. Instead of Charlie's white gear bag, containing his weapons, punches, kicks, and sweaty dobok, she had ballet slippers, toe shoes, a sweat-stained leotard, tights, bun covers, makeup, tampons, bras, panties and..Oh My God, she did not even want to think about what else. Crap, how had she forgotten to take her sweaty things out last night and wash them?

She got up and went into the bathroom to hand-rinse her delicates, then took everything else that needed to be washed to the laundry room. She would have two light loads. She would need everything in the bag clean. While the washing machine was running, she decided to do her ballet thing. Donning a pair of toe shoes, Christie warmed up and did her stretches. She evidently had a routine for all this, she realized.

Without thinking about how she would do any of it, Christie began to go through her paces. She just knew how to do them and her body just knew what to do. Moreover, she was in the peak physical condition necessary to do it. She even did some en pointe routines and found she could hold en pointe with attitude easily.

Satisfied, Christie took the shoes off and went to her room to finish getting dressed for her new usual summer vacation Sunday. She checked her hair. Happily, it was still clean and in good shape so she put it up in a bun and covered it with a shower cap. She decided to take a shower. She 'remembered' that she liked baths, but only after she was clean. Evidently, her preference was to take a shower and then treat herself to a nice hot soak - with bath oils, too. Bath oils?

After her shower, she took the opportunity to take a good, long close look at herself. Her body was both familiar and strange to her, at the same time. She knew she was five-foot-six, she measured 30 inches around just below the bust and 37 inches over the largest part of her bust all of which meant that she wore a 34C bra. She didn't really care about that, other than what she did wear was comfortable. She had a 23-inch waist and 34-inch hips. Checking her body in profile, she thought she was a little top-heavy at the moment, given her Mother's genes, she figured her hips would probably catch up eventually. Unfortunately for a ballerina.

In her room, she dressed quickly in a matching bra and panty set, a lavender leotard, a pair of short shorts that hugged her backside nicely, ankle socks and her pink Nikes. Cautiously, Christie approached and then took a seat at HER vanity. Undoing her hair bun, she brushed it out and decided that since she was going out to a nice place tonight she'd just leave it hanging straight just now, with its little bit of natural curl at the ends. She neatened her brows up a bit, then added just a little light eye shadow, mascara and lipstick.

After one last check of her face and hair, she started to get up and stopped, staring down at her hands. Her nails weren’t done. Opening one of her vanity’s drawers, she grabbed the plastic carry-all with all of her nail care supplies and tools to the living room.

Setting her carry-all down on the coffee table and then turning on the TV, Christie headed to the laundry to put her things in the dryer. Returning, she sat herself down on the floor in front of the couch and got busy fixing her nails. She started on her feet because ballet was very hard on a girl's toes. She filed down her toenails, put a foam spreader between her toes and got down to the serious business of painting them. She liked, as did her ballet mistress, vivid and brilliant reds. It was one of the few things outside of the dance itself they shared.

As far as Christie was concerned, the brighter the better, and she often adjusted her makeup accordingly, always looking for the right red, and for just the right skin tone to set it all off. Christie knew she was a neutral skin tone and could wear cool or warm colors. She chose to wear warmer tones most of the time. After all, as the movie promised, 'Some Like it Hot' and Christie most definitely did.

She painted her toes with two coats and once they were dry, she started working on her fingernails. Her natural nails were long since her ballet Mistress liked them long. She filed the edges and shaped them a bit. Then she used a base coat, two coats of the same red as she'd used on her toes and finished it off with a diamond-bright topcoat.

Darn, she was good!

She watched TV for a bit, got her things out of the dryer, folded them and then put them where they belonged. Hungry, she went to the kitchen. Her diet was strict and all spelled out for her and Mom on the refrigerator door. She checked the list, got out the appropriate foods, weighing and measuring her servings carefully before heading to the breakfast bar.

After eating, she went back to the living room, went down to the floor in a Chinese split and then lay on the floor to watch TV. She adjusted her position after a bit, went into an American split, laying down on her front leg, and after a while changed legs.

Bored, she went out on the patio by the pool, put her toe shoes back on, stretched out and did her “Flashdance - What a Feeling” dance routine that was planned for the studio’s next performance. She surprised herself at how well she danced it. She had it all choreographed out in her mind and her body seemed to know just what to do.

After she finished the dance routine, she decided she would try something. She still had all of Charlie’s memories, so she had all the moves in Koryo Poomsae in her head. Assuming her position of attention, she tried to execute that form.

She was awful. Even though she knew what to do, her body didn’t know how it was supposed to do it. She was sloppy and looked poorly practiced. Even though it looked like she had essentially the same body - maybe a little lighter and stacked a little differently - she didn’t have the same muscle memory. She knew if you had to think about how to do advanced Poomsae, you would not be able to do them properly. You just did them.

She tried doing just the basics, simple punches and kicks and realized she looked like a white belt doing punches and kicks. Well, maybe not a white belt, maybe an eighth yellow. Maybe. Charlie had seen some really awful white belts in his time at the dojang and she wasn't THAT bad. She hoped.

At about two in the afternoon, she was bored again and went to the swimming pool changing room. Pulling on a racer-back top and a bikini bottom, she returned to the pool, gracefully dove in and began swimming laps. She swam seventy-five laps before she got out and took off her top to catch some rays. They had a twelve-foot-tall wood privacy fence and none of the neighboring homes overlooked where she lay down. She just hated tan lines but was too much of a girl to go bottomless. So, after a thorough application of an appropriate sunscreen, then twenty minutes on each side and she pronounced herself done. She hardly ever burned and tanned easily, getting a nice golden tan.

It was nigh onto four o’clock when she came back into the house, still topless, carrying her swimming things to the washroom to put them in the hamper. She showered again and this time washed her hair. Charlie would just need to wash and rinse his hair. Now Christie knew she had to wash her long blonde tresses twice and then use a quality conditioner on her hair. She shaved her underarms and legs before sitting down on the edge of the bathtub to carefully trim her bikini line. She’d need to get another wax job soon. Many ballerinas went with a full wax job for the times their role didn’t call for wearing long flowing skirts. A thick mound of hair - down there - was just too easy to detect beneath their tights and leotards, or their swimsuits.

Finished with her feminine detail work, Christie treated herself to a long warm bath, soaking happily until it was nearly time to wake her Mom for their dinner plans. She just had time to get dried off, put her hair in a turban, moisturize her skin and slip on her robe before it was time to wake her Mom.

In her Mom’s room, she smiled and sat down on the bed next to Amanda’s back. Christie leaned over and kissed her Mom on the cheek. Yeah, she was still mad, but not at her Mom anymore. She knew her Mom still loved her, and Christie loved her right back. She kissed her cheek again and called out softly, “Time to wake up, Mom.”

Amanda woke and swept her daughter up into a fierce hug - and then she began tickling her. Christie tried to tickle back in self-defense, but Amanda was too quick and had the strategically superior position - on top. Christie was laughing uncontrollably when she made her escape.

“You’re not mad, are you, Christie?”Amanda asked, cautiously.

“Yes, I am still mad, but not at you, Mom.”

“I’m glad. Thank you for that, dear, I couldn’t live with myself if I had hurt you.”

“I know. I couldn’t hurt you, either, so we’re just gonna have to muddle through this together.”

“Okay, then. Well, you look good by the way. Did you work on your tan today?”

“Yeah, I went swimming and then caught some rays.”

“Just don’t tan too much, the sun can damage your skin.”

“I know Momma, I will be careful. I just like the way I look when I’ve tanned.”

“So do I. Well, we have got to get ready. Did you leave me any hot water?”

Christie got up and said, “You know we have that new on-demand hot water tank, Mom, so yes, I left you a little hot water.”

Amanda threw her pillow at a quickly retreating Christie. She cried a little thinking about what Christie had gone through and had yet to deal with in the coming days. And thought - again - how lucky she was to have been given such a great kid to share her life with.

Christie selected her dress and shoes, before inspecting the contents of her underwear drawer. She had a rainbow of different colored bras and panties and selected a set that matched well with her outfit. The dress was a below-mid-thigh-length, royal blue number with spaghetti straps. The dress material had a metallic shine and the dress had strings of fringe all-around at the hem that went down to the knee. The shoes were satin pumps dyed blue to match the dress, while the strapless bra and panties were just a little darker blue than the dress. With her bra and panties on, she sat down at her vanity to do her hair and makeup. She put most of her hair up in a bun, which she bobby-pinned and added a pair of jeweled chopsticks. She left two tendrils of hair down to frame her face, which she turned into ringlets with her trusty curling iron and setting gel.

Her fingernails and toenails were still outstanding, so she started on her makeup. As this would be a celebratory evening at a nice restaurant, she elected to go with her best glamor look. Foundation, pressed powder, darkened and sharpened brows, smoky eye shadow, eyeliner and three layers of mascara were all carefully selected and even more carefully applied. She decided to go a little light with her blusher, she didn't want to look like an old lady or a working girl, for heaven's sake. She carefully outlined her lips and then using a brush, filled them in with her preferred bright red lipstick. Next, she chose a pair of Swarovski crystal chandelier earrings, a matching necklace, a sterling silver cuff bracelet and two silver amethyst rings.

Finished and satisfied with the results, Christie picked up the matching purse she'd set out and added the necessary items. She quickly checked her calendar, saw that she was safely mid-cycle, and only added a couple of tampons. Her mom had taught her to always have some available, just so she could help someone else in need. Then she got into her dress. It was warm and a bit humid outside tonight, so she had forgone pantyhose or stockings. Her legs looked and felt great without them. Lastly, she needed to choose a scent for the evening. Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue, just one tiny drop behind her ears, on her wrists and her neck.

Done.

She gave herself one final critical check in her mirror. She had taken her time getting ready and it showed. She looked very sexy, but definitely not trashy, more of a glamorous yet sophisticated chic. And she had only taken an hour and a quarter to get ready. Scooping up her purse, she went to check on her mom.

Amanda was just finishing up her own ensemble. She knew what her daughter would probably look like and had worked hard on her own presentation for the night. She didn't want to be outshone by her daughter. Not when she'd only been her daughter for less than twelve hours. Even though they both remembered a whole Christie-lifetime, she couldn't stop herself. It was the principle of the thing!

Christie grinned warmly when she saw her Mom. No, she didn’t look twenty-two anymore, but she was gorgeous, nonetheless.

“Wow Mom, you look great.”

“You look smoking hot yourself, Christie. A little more mature than I’d like for a girl your age, but considering your dance background, it’s quite understandable.”

"I was surprised by that, Mom. Before I went swimming, I tried my 'Flashdance -What a Feeling' dance routine. The best thing I can say about this body is that it is in ultra-good physical condition. I did the whole dance routine without getting winded. After a five-minute, high-energy routine, I only needed a half minute or so to recover. I think I might have better cardiovascular fitness than Charlie had."

“Now, that is saying something. Charlie was always running here or there and everywhere. You ready?”

“Yes, Mom, let’s go.”

They entered the garage, past a parked BMW 318, and got into Amanda’s Chrysler 300. Christie opened her door and then stopped to take a closer look at the Beemer. A question formed in her head while Amanda drove them to Donatello’s.

The question solidified in Christie’s mind and she gasped at the implication. “Mom, I just thought of something horrible. If I’ve been Christie my whole life, instead of Charlie, what about Jimmy Wilson?”

“Oh my lord, I hadn’t thought about that. We’ll have to wait until after dinner to check our Sunday newspaper back at the house.”

“The Beemer was still home, just like it was after Charlie’s birthday party. How did it get there if I, err, Charlie didn’t save Jimmy?”

“I don’t know. Check your memory, when did you get it?”

“Yesterday, but the details are kind of fuzzy.”

“For me, too, and that is strange. It’s like my magic took a turn of its own.”

Donatello’s was a very nice, very dressy Italian Restaurant. The Maitre’d was all decked out in his suit and led the ladies to their table.

“Hi Grandma,” Christie called out when she saw her Grandmother Rebekah Hanson waiting for them at their table.

“And how is my favorite Granddaughter?”

“I am your only granddaughter, Gran.”

“You still are my favorite.”

“Hello, Mom,” Amanda said, dropping a quick kiss on Rebekah’s cheek, “It is so good seeing you.”

“It’s good seeing you, too, Amanda. I see everything went well last night.”

"As well as could be expected," Amanda answered diffidently, leaving much unsaid.

A waiter placed a basket of soft breadsticks on the table and took their drink orders: a good Chianti for Amanda and her Mom and an unsweetened ice tea for Christie.

When they got their drinks, the waiter took their orders. Amanda chose a chicken Parmigiana, Rebekah chose the Veal Marsala and Christie had to play twenty questions with the waiter, about what this or that was made of and the serving size. Amanda had to search her memory to reason out why. Ballet Student Christie was on a very strict diet because of the dance recital coming up next month. Even after the recital, she would only eat a few hundred calories a day more than she did currently. She wasn't starving herself like a model, but all her calories had to be good calories to keep fit. She chose a child's plate of Penne pasta with pesto. She would have a house salad, but with the dressing on the side. She made sure the waiter knew she was in training and was very serious about it. As a celebratory splurge, however, she did allow herself one and a half breadsticks. Some things were just too good to miss, even if they weren't particularly good calories.

The three women discussed her diet as they ate their salads. Christie only dipped the tips of her fork’s tines into the dressing pot occasionally as she ate her salad.

“I don’t know why I did this, Mom. I just know that I need to control my intake as a dancer. I’m not anorexic. I couldn’t dance like I do if I was, but to get all the nutrition my body needs and maintain my weight, I have to be very strict on what I eat. No more pigging out on pizza, like Charlie did. That is one thing I miss already. Inside, I know I am just as determined to succeed in dance as he was in the dojang.”

“I kind of figured that was the case. It is something I will have to get used to, too. I am just amazed at how good you look. You are gorgeous.”

“Well, I have to agree with your Mom, Christie,” Rebekah put in, “You have a lovely figure for a teen.”

“Mom made me this way, Gran. ”

“No, I didn’t make you this beautiful, dear. The only thing the magic did was turn your Y into another X. You are as you would have been, had you been born a girl. I did an augury, a type of scry, to help line out your history, so you could learn your lessons easier.”

“What are these lessons I need to learn?”

"I can't say because I just don't know. I'm not just being evasive. I could tell you what I had to learn, but that would likely mess up your mind and make this thing last longer than is absolutely necessary. You will know when there is a lesson and when you have learned it. That is God's truth, honey, and how it was for me and my own Mother in her turn. I can help you keep on the path, but that is about all. Even if you fail to see a lesson for what it is the first time, that doesn't mean you missed your chance, either. When one door closes, another door should soon open. You just have to believe in yourself and BE yourself."

“So has it happened time after time in our family, Christie,” Rebekah told her granddaughter. “This isn’t particular just to you, darling.”

“So, you know about all this, too, Grandma?”

“Yes, I do. I am just like your mother. And you.”

“Mom, I am still worried about Jimmy. I’ve tried and tried to remember but I don’t seem to have any memories of anything dealing with him.”

Amanda quickly explained what Christie was talking about to her mom. She looked a little worried herself and said, "I am amazed that I don't remember anything either. We would know if something bad happened to the boy, I think. I'm just getting nothing."

“I have to admit that is strange. We don’t usually have blank spots or fuzzy spots in our memories. I know you too well to ask if you made a mistake, Amanda. I will have to ponder this anomaly,” Rebekah said.

They all went to the ladies' room together and then left after paying their bill. On a hunch, Christie checked and found the newspaper from their birthday morning breakfast at the diner still on the back seat of her Mother's car. Neither Charlie nor Christie nor Jimmy were on the front page anymore and there was no mention of a dog attack anywhere in the paper. Maybe it didn't happen in this timeline, but that simply didn't make any sense. Something else had to have changed, too, but they couldn't remember anything like that, either.

When they got home, Amanda checked the registration of the Beemer. It belonged to Christie McKellar, free and clear. The previous owner was Bill Cranston BMW, just as it had in Charlie's timeline.

Amanda called Delores up, just to see how things were going with her family. Delores was surprised to hear from Amanda but was still happy to chat with her for half an hour. At last, Amanda asked, "How are the kids, Delores?"

“They are doing wonderfully, Amanda. David is out on a date with his girlfriend Jenny and Little Jimmy is over at Fred Williams’ house playing video games. How is Christie doing? Still doing the ballet thing?”

“She and I went out to dinner tonight at Donatello’s. It was her birthday yesterday, but her ballet class kept her until late and we couldn’t get an early enough reservation. So we had her birthday dinner today with Christie’s Grandmother.”

“Oh, that’s right! She is, what, sixteen now, right?”

“Yep, sweet sixteen. Well, Delores, I have to go now. It’s been really nice talking with you. Take care, dear.”

“You too, Amanda, bye.”

"Curiouser and Curiouser. Well, it's now official, Christie. Jimmy is all right and uninjured. I am glad, naturally, but something I can't account for has changed."

“That is good and bad I suppose. Things like this aren’t supposed to happen, I guess?”

“No, not in my experience, anyway. The only thing I can think of is that Charlie must have done something that precipitated the attack in the first place but I doubt that you caused Mr. Pritchard to buy a pit bull.”

“I hardly had any dealings with him when I was Charlie.”

"Oh well, this is a problem for another time. In the end, no one was hurt, and we need to get to bed. We both go running at five in the morning in this Christie timeline."

“Love ya, Mom.”

“Love you, too, Christie.”

~-~

The next morning Christie and Amanda got up for their morning run. They ran two miles together. Amanda was winded when they got home, but Christie changed into a bikini and swam a fast twenty laps in the pool. Afterward, she took a quick shower and shampoo. She dried her hair, did her makeup and got dressed. She checked her bag and added leotards, tights, dance skirts, things for her hair, makeup, tampons and bottled water. At eight-thirty she headed out, walking the two miles to the ballet studio.

The walk to Madame Coulter's Ballet Studio gave her time to think and reflect on this ballet class. Every new 'Christie' memory she had about ballet seemed to indicate - strongly - that Christie didn't like Madame Coulter. The woman was acknowledged to be the best, top-level ballet instructor in the community, and she did a fairly good job of teaching the fundamentals of the dance. Christie's problem stemmed from the woman's tyrannical approach to teaching. Ballet was okay, and as far as she could remember, Christie really enjoyed the art.

Christie suspected that ‘Christie before Charlie’, if that made any sense at all, probably just accepted Renee’s sharp tongue and criticisms because that particular version of Christie didn’t know anything better. ‘Christie after Charlie’ did know something better and this Christie longed for the way the Kim family taught their classes.

A random thought brought a giggle bubbling up. Maybe she could get Grandfather Kim to teach Ballet? Or, how about Taekwondo Ballet? Now THERE was a concept! She could clearly see Grandfather in her mind’s eye, teaching the ROK Army (Republic of Korea Army) the basics of ballet. They’d have to be properly outfitted, of course. Camo-colored leggings, leotards and steel-toed, combat-ballet slippers. Her giggle turned into a delighted laugh. She’d have to tell her Mother about that silly little notion, and then was momentarily sad she wouldn’t be able to share it with Grandfather Kim.

Sighing, Christie returned her thoughts to the matter at hand. Madame Coulter was about fifty years old, and from what her Mom had uncovered when she’d checked Madame’s references (years ago!), had begun her school when she had been in her mid-twenties. Christie seemed to recall something about a serious injury ending her performing career, but she couldn’t quite remember any specifics.

Currently, her school trained about forty ballerinas of various ages, ranging from the very young to her oldest enrolled student who was twenty. In addition to the forty ballerinas, she also had four danseur nobles, or male dancers under her tutelage and two of those were quite good.

In truth, Renee's track record of advancing her students to higher levels was a mixed bag. Ballerinas who haven't made it to the pros by twenty-two probably wouldn't. Competition for good-paying jobs for ballerinas was extremely fierce, and many who did turn pro didn't last more than a few years. There were fewer dancers over thirty-five in the pros, usually, that was because the ones who did stay were stars and were getting well paid for their efforts. Madame had graduated a few girls to the professional ranks, but Christie wasn't sure any of them ever made it out of the Corps de Ballet before finding another line of work. Oh, her memory flashed, and she recalled that one girl who'd worked her way up to principal dancer and soloist for one of the regional touring companies in the midwest.

Her school had shown a relatively better success rate with her danseur nobles. Several of them had graduated to more prestigious schools and a couple Christie knew of had caught on with some fairly high-end ballet companies. She wondered about that better performance by Madame's boys. Was it just way less competition for male dancers? Certainly, the ballet was not very high on most young male 'grow up' lists. Or maybe it was just that guys typically were more used to being coached by someone with Madame's . . .umm, direct and authoritative style?

Whatever. For her part, Christie was on the cusp of deciding whether or not she would put out the effort to try to go professional. The constant practice, rehearsals and performances were hard on the ballerinas. Injuries were a constant danger and a reminder of their mortality as dancers. Football players might think THEY had it tough, HAH! They should try stepping out a mile or two in a ballerina’s toe shoes! That would show them what TOUGH was truly all about. Only they wouldn’t, the wimps. Beyond that of course, Christie thought she might well be her Mother’s daughter physically. Staying sleek, svelte and light enough to be partnered by a danseur noble might prove to be very difficult, if not unhealthy.

Christie and Randall Woodson, the seventeen-year-old male dancer, arrived at the studio at the same time, a half-hour before class, as planned. They would use the extra time to polish their own partnered dance routine for the recital. They had choreographed a five-minute dance adaptation reminiscent of the final dance in the movie, 'Dirty Dancing' only with Christie in toe shoes instead of high heels. The dance was sexy and energetic, with lots of en pointe turns presented by her partner.

She liked the way that she and Randall danced together, and always enjoyed working with him on the dance floor. He was hard-working, polite, skilled and had a way of partnering with a ballerina so that both dancers showed their best to the audience. Unfortunately, he knew all that, too and he was an egotistical jerk when off the dance floor.

For this rehearsal, Christie donned a gauzy chiffon wrap-around skirt over her leotard and tights. For the actual performance, she had a pink chiffon cocktail dress picked out at home. Properly made up, she would look a lot like Jennifer Grey and Randall would be a passable Patrick Swayze. Their choreography worked quite nicely, and they were quite hot together as they made their slinky way about the dance floor.

After they’d finished, it was time to work out with their regular class. Christie was surprised to see a few of the girls who had been in Charlie’s white and yellow belt classes taking their places on the dance floor. Were any of them doing dance and Karate? Or had Charlie interacted with them in some way to get them into Karate? Nothing came to mind as she searched her ‘Christie memories’ comparing them to Charlie’s.

Madame Coulter’s commanding screech snapped Christie’s attention back to the dance class. Some of the girls had likened it to a harpy’s shriek. At the moment, she was ‘correcting’ one of her intermediate students, Karen Sampson. She evidently wasn’t doing something or other, perfectly. What that might be, Christie had no clue. The class had barely finished their warmups and she was already finding fault with someone.

After the offender had been suitably berated and punished, Madame Coulter got her students working on one of the major group dances they would be performing at the recital. Christie recalled that up until the end of the school year, this class had met three days a week. Now that it was summer, they would switch to a six days a week schedule as they made final preparations for their late July recital.

The rest of that week and the next one plodded on as it just became more of the same, with the only difference day-to-day, were the dances they worked on that day. The dancers trying to get everything right, trying to avoid getting screamed at, and Madame Coulter just screaming all the more and all the louder at them.

Two more days passed, and Christie was completely fed up with Madame Coulter! On her second Saturday as a girl, she'd been down to just one nerve left and Madame Coulter just HAD to break it.

Christie had just executed a very good pas (set of dance steps) in her opinion, but Madame Coulter had disagreed. Loudly. Then the older woman compounded her mistake and attempted to belittle Christie in front of the entire class.

Christie had been so stunned and then so enraged that later that day, she couldn’t even remember precisely what Madame Coulter said to her. However, she sure as hell remembered how she’d said it! And THEN Madame Coulter had threatened to replace her as soloist with Lisa Brandt.

That was just too much for Christie's frayed temper to take. Lisa Brandt was another sixteen-year-old dancer, but she wasn't nearly as good or dedicated as Christie! This came on the same day when she'd been late for class because she'd had to carefully clean out the sand and ground glass someone had put in her toe shoes while she'd been in the ladies' room. She suspected Lisa Brandt but didn't say anything about it. And now, Madame was insulting her by threatening to give that little bitch her solo?!?

Christie stood up straight to get nose to nose with Madame Coulter and said, "That is enough, Renee, I am tired of you. I've taken all I can of you, and I quit. Enjoy your solos, Brandt!"Christie spun about and stalked off the dance floor and into the dressing room.

Renee Coulter never allowed her students to call her Renee; not even her few adult students. They were all required to address her as Madame Coulter - even their parents did - and Christie had just committed that most grievous sin. Only Christie stopped and came back. She'd decided she wasn't done with the old biddy yet! "You are egotistical, bombastic, pompous, old, despotic, and a bloody tyrant. I'm not your slave, I was your student. Note I said 'was'! That means past tense if you need further explanation. You berate, demean and destroy your students' sense of self-worth to boost your own sense of superiority. Well, you should be glad! I will not subject you to my unskilled presence anymore. You want Lisa Brandt to be your star dancer? You can have her with my blessings. Good… Bye… Renee… Coulter... I won't be renewing my contract next month."

Christie stormed into the dressing room, just grabbed her bag and left without another word or backward glance. Madame Coulter was apoplectic and almost catatonic. In her nearly twenty-five years of teaching, she had never had a student talk back to her like that.

As Christie walked toward home, she thought about calling her mom to come to get her but decided to walk. She really needed to cool off. Charlie had NEVER gone into a rage like that. Of course, no one had ever dissed Charlie like that woman had Christie. Of course, Charlie had been taught by the Kims so he'd never had to deal with such disrespect from a teacher.

Memories of Charlie's experiences at the dojang flooded back, and she suddenly remembered that today was test day at Young-Soo's Karate. Almost without thinking about it, she changed directions and headed for the Kims'. On arrival, Christie instinctively went to remove her shoes, only to realize that she hadn't bothered to change out of her toe shoes before storming out of Renee's studio. Shaking her head at the waste, she took them off knowing that they would probably have to be thrown away now. Her trek here had irreparably damaged them. She put them in her bag for disposal later and went into the dojang.

The white belts were currently testing so she sat down at the side of the mat and watched. It was a little heartbreaking for her, watching her . . . Charlie’s students were testing with her there instead of Charlie. She still cheered them on and felt a deep satisfaction when they all did well, but it just wasn’t the same as being a real part of their success.

Later in the session, the green belts came up for testing, and she was surprised to see Tad was testing. In the Charlie TimeLine, he hadn't been ready. After the green belts' tests were completed today, it was obvious that he still wasn't ready in this timeline either. Needed to work on your darned Poomsae, Tad, she thought quietly to herself. Then, it was Donnie's time to test.

Donnie seemed a little rougher around the edges than Christie expected, but he managed to do well enough to pass. For his first bout, Donnie had to fight Young-Soo, and clearly, neither of them was taking it easy on the other. The sounds of the punches and kicks landing were resounding. Then Donnie had to fight two other black belts from other schools. Donnie fought them well, whipping them pretty clearly. Then he did his breaking demonstration followed by his poomsae. Tests for black belts often lasted several hours and today, it was Donnie's conditioning that ultimately won the day.

At the end of the tests, the black belt committee met privately for about ten minutes to discuss all the students' performances. When they came back, they announced the students that had passed. Only two students hadn't passed their test; a yellow belt who had tested too soon, and Tad whose Poomsae were terrible. Belts and certificates were passed out. The students lined up to thank the testers. Tad was conspicuously missing from the line which was considered bad form and likely would be addressed at his next class. If he ever had another class. The entire group then gathered for a celebratory meet and greet, hosted by the Kims.

Christie stood to leave but when she turned, she ran right into Grandfather Kim, “Excuse me, sir! Please forgive me for running into you like that. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Grandfather Kim just laughed at that and turned to Master Kim who had come over. The two men spoke in Korean and were laughing with each other, “No, young lady. You didn’t hurt this old man. Allow me to make introductions, please. I am Grandfather Kim and this is my son Young-Min and that is my grandson Young-Soo over there,” he said, pointing out his relatives. “I see by your dress that you are a student of the dance?”

“I was until today, sir. I just quit. I didn’t seem to have what it takes to continue at my old school.”

“I don’t sense that in you, child. I sense a strong sense of character in you. You must have had a good reason to quit, but it wasn’t because of anything lacking in you. Have you ever considered studying Ka-Ra-Te?” he said, emphasizing each syllable of the word ‘karate’.

"Yes and no, sir," Christie said, stretching the truth a bit.

“Well, you must speak with Tracy Wilcox. She recruits the girls for our school. Tracy,” Grandfather called out, raising his voice over the partiers, “Come over here! I think we have another new student right here.”

Christie turned to see Tracey coming over, and smiled to herself.

“Hi, I am Tracy Wilcox, 1st Dan black belt.”

“Hi. Well, I am Christie McKellar, former ballerina extraordinaire.” Christie said, going en pointe. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Tracy.”

"Very cool, Christie," Tracy said, smiling brightly. "If you want to take karate, the tuition is a hundred twenty dollars a month, and you will need a dobok or uniform, and then some safety gear after you earn a yellow belt. Yellow belt students begin to learn to spar."

Tracy took Christie into the office to show her the gear and to talk some more about karate and the classes offered here at the dojang. Christie found it very difficult to talk like a neophyte and barely caught herself making a 'too-knowledgeable' comment several times. Finally, Christie changed the subject to the big black guy who tested, both because she was curious and to deflect Tracy's attention away from her.

“Yes, he is a hunk, isn’t he? He is my boyfriend, Donnie Colt, now 1st Dan black belt Taekwondo, brown belt Gracie Jiu-Jitsu and a Muay Thai fighter. He is looking at getting into a UFC candidates' class in a year or two."

“UFC? What is that?”

"That, my friend, is a shit storm - pardon my language - when it comes to fighting. UFC stands for Ultimate Fighting Championship. There aren't many NO-NO's that are against the rules in UFC fighting. Here, our students spar, but we're supposed to pull our punches and kicks. In the UFC they're fighting full out. It is a real furball."

“Oh really? Wow, that sounds dangerous.”

“It is, and truthfully, I worry about Donnie a lot. I just hope this doesn’t change him for the worse.”

“I don’t think it will. I get the sense that he is a great guy.”

“He is, thanks.”

Christie reached into her gear bag and got her ATM card out. Her Mom had just put a thousand on it to cover her next year’s tuition at the ballet studio. Sorry, Mom, Christie thought. I just can’t take any more of good ole Renee’s nonsense.

When Christie picked out a standard, heavyweight dobok, Tracy tried to talk her into one of the lighter-weight doboks, "The canvas doboks," she said, "are heavier, hotter and scratchier than the lighter weight ones made of cotton."

“I bet the lighter ones are less durable and go transparent with sweat which would be a concern for me. I’m not one of those ladies who glow when they perspire. I sweat, big time. You’re wearing one of the heavy uniforms, aren’t you?”

"Yeah, but I am a black belt. I would have to buy new lightweight doboks practically every month. They tend to get all torn up in the black belt classes. on the modesty thing. I am wearing a heavy-weight T-shirt and a sports bra, under my dobok. All girls should."

“Why do you have the black stripe on the lapel of the uniform?”

"Red and black belts help teach at our school. It saves us money, so we have a different dobok to identify us as instructors. Students are required to wear solid white uniforms till they earn their red belt. You're years away from that, however. It takes a minimum of six years to get to meet the requirements for a black belt and that is pushing it hard. Besides, even if you could, I don't think you would want to. Students miss out on so much when they start jumping belts that fast. We look at karate as more of a life choice than just a martial art."

Tracy was surprised when the young girl bought punches and kicks she really would not need until she had attained her yellow belt. She especially recommended Christie buy a boob protector (ladies chest protector), and a chest guard, mouthpiece, and headgear. Christie then selected a pair of MMA gloves, a pair of Sais and a set of metal fans. The metal fans looked like very ornate, oriental fans but they were also weapons that could maim and kill. Lastly, she bought another gear bag. The gear bag she had for ballet would give up the ghost and die if it had to carry all her new stuff. Besides, it was pink! There was no pink in Taekwondo.

“Why are you buying weapons? We don’t even begin weapons training until the blue belt level at the earliest? Greens and yellows sometimes get nunchucks to look badass or maybe swords to hang on their walls, but we strongly discourage anyone from trying to learn to use them outside of our formal classes.”

“I think they will look cool on my walls,” Christie replied, even though she had no intention to use these weapons just as wall hangers. “Those fans are really pretty.”

“They are weapons, too and very difficult to use well safely. Just keep them in the original packaging in case your parents complain about them. You could then bring them back and we’d refund your money. I also need your folks to sign a medical release and another release so we can teach you.”

“I just have my Mom now. My dad passed away years ago.”

“I am so sorry.”

“Well, I need to go home and break the bad ballet news to Mom. She isn’t going to have a Prima Donna ballerina in the family, but I am sure I will like karate better. I can use the practice to work off my anger at Renee Coulter.”

“That’s the ballet instructor, right?”

“That would be her highness.”

“We get some students from her occasionally. Come on back to the dressing rooms and I will show you around. Then I will give you a lift home.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t, but that gear bag will weigh a ton in comparison to your ballet bag.”

Not a bad idea, Christie thought. She didn’t have the upper body strength that Charlie had.

Charlie had been in the ladies' changing rooms before, but not when there were ladies actually changing. Christie carried her ballet bag and followed Tracy inside. While in the dressing room, she changed into her street clothes - a tank top and shorts - while Tracy showered and changed. Christie was surprised to see the bruises on Tracy.

“Oh my, how did you get those bruises, Tracy?”

“I was a little careless sparring with Donnie in class the other day. Boy, he can hit hard and I got these with him pulling his punches.”

“And you are still going out with him?”

"He has other… things… he is good at and besides, I gave almost as good as I got," Tracy replied with a saucy wink.

Christie decided she was talking about karate and something else altogether.

“He doesn’t beat you, does he?”

"If he ever raises his hand to me in anger, I have a 1911A1 and he knows I'll use it! He has some anger problems, but he would never, ever - ever hurt a girl. That much I am sure of."

Tracy gave Christie a quick tour around the facility and then introduced her to Mark Fresnel, a second red belt who would be her instructor. Charlie didn't know him, he wasn't in Charlie's timeline, but he seemed like a nice enough guy. Cute, too. Mark was about twenty-two years old, five foot ten, about one seventy-five lbs, with blonde hair, deep green eyes and a killer smile. Too bad he was too old Christie thought and nearly tripped over her own feet. Where the heck did that thought come from?? She'd never thought about boys that way before.

Tracy dropped Christie off at her home and surprised her by giving Christie an air kiss before she opened her car doors and got out of the car.

“I am home, Mom,” Christie called, as she came in the front door.

"And just where have you been for three hours, young lady?!" Mom stood just inside the kitchen, her hands fisted on her hips and her face stern. Mom was pissed! "Madame Coulter called me HOURS ago, complaining how you were rude to her and that you just stalked out of her studio in the middle of her class."

"Okay, Mom, first things first. I quit ballet. I am not going back, either. I simply cannot stand the way she treats her students anymore and I will not tolerate it any longer!" Christie gave her mom a word-by-word description of what had happened, what Renee had said to her, and what Christie had said to her in reply. "Then, when she tried to threaten me with Lisa Brandt - Lisa Brandt for heaven's sake! I couldn't take it anymore. I just told her I quit and what I thought of her! I think that's what shocked her the most was that a mere girl would actually stand up to her and call her by her given name, Renee. I will not go back and I will not apologize. She terrorizes those kids, Mom. It's just awful."

“That may be true, young lady, but that isn’t what has MY ire up. I have been sitting here - for more than two hours - waiting for you to come home or to call. I was worried sick about you. Where. . . Have . . .You . ..Been?!”

Christie took a deep breath, feeling instantly repentant. “Kim Young-Soo’s, Mom. I’m truly sorry I didn’t think to call when I got tied up there. That was so thoughtless of me, and you deserve much better from me. It’s just that woman got me so mad, I stopped thinking about anything else, Momma,” Christie said, clearly remorseful.

“I am sorry, too, Christie. You’re my only child and I worry about you.”

"Mom, I don't know if I blew whatever lesson I was supposed to learn, but I couldn't stand that damn woman anymore. I went to the dojang because they were testing, and I wanted to see Charlie's students go through the advancement testing. I always enjoyed watching my students test, and it was something to distract me from what went down with Renee," Christie said, with a tear in the corners of her eyes. "Anyway, I need you to sign these papers for me so I can start taking classes with the Kims."

Amanda took the papers that were handed to her and quickly shuffled through them. "I probably shouldn't sign these things for you, Christie. I shouldn't, but I will. However, in the meantime, you have got to realize the danger the world presents to you, especially now. You're not a guy anymore and you're not a hotshot karate student. You're a girl who just quit ballet after eight years of classes. Last time I checked, a plie was not a useful defensive maneuver if you are being threatened."

“I know Mom, I’m sorry.”

~-~

Very concerned about the potential ramifications of her daughter's decision on her trial, Amanda performed an in-depth augury late that night. She was surprised to discover that, regardless of her decision to quit ballet, her daughter was still on track. It almost seemed as if her daughter was supposed to drop out of ballet. Amanda smiled in relief for Christie and then indulged in just a little cry for herself. She could remember, fondly, going to recitals to see her daughter dance, only she knew she never really had seen her daughter perform. The spell that warped reality gave people false memories, including her, only she knew they were false. She had been so looking forward to making a real memory of her daughter the dancer at the recital next month. Not to be, she thought, wiping away a few tears.

“At least I know she will probably do well in karate,” Amanda said aloud, trying to encourage herself now. “She can’t help it; it’s in her nature, I guess.”

~-~

Christie started karate classes on the following Monday. After consulting with Christie, his Father and Grandfather, Young-Soo wanted her to come to at least five classes a week. White belt classes were held at ten in the morning on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, with other sessions taught at four o'clock in the afternoon on Tuesdays and Thursdays as well as two classes on Saturday, at eight in the morning and five in the evening. Determined to regain what she'd lost as quickly as she possibly could, Christie planned to attend them all.

Sadly but predictably, she didn’t have to pretend to not be good. Despite all the conditioning she had developed as a ballerina, despite all the knowledge she still had in her head and despite all the grace, speed and strength her body had developed at the barre and on the stage, Christie still had an utter lack of karate-related muscle memory. She had to think about how to do each required action before she could do it at all. Oh, she was very good for a white belt. All white belts were in the ‘thinking first’ mode, but she was a far cry from where Charlie had been as a 1st Geup red belt.

Mark Fresnel's class consisted of forty-eight white belts ranging in age from eight to sixteen. The school was a safe place for kids whose parents were at work and didn't want their kids sitting around the house all day playing video games, or out in the neighborhood, or the mall, or worse, getting into trouble. This was a very large class, but at least not every student attended every class. He averaged thirty students a session. An experienced instructor, after two days, he already knew his best student in this batch was Christie.

When she wasn't in a class herself, she would be in the dojang watching the other classes, doing her exercises, or working out on an unused heavy bag. It was generally accepted by everyone who noticed her there that she was a true fitness junkie. She had been a ballerina after all. Although, not everyone in the dojang appreciated just what that meant about Christie's unusual state of fitness.

One of the new fourteen-year-old male white belts, Craig Breeder, stuck his foot in his mouth, when he said, in Christie's hearing no less, that ballerinas weren't athletes. Craig was five-foot-seven and a hundred and forty-five pounds. He was a starting defensive back on the junior varsity football team and was taking karate to toughen himself up, improve his coordination and stay in shape over the summer.

“Hey, big guy,” Christie immediately challenged, “You say that ballerinas aren’t athletes? Okay, put your body where your mouth is. You and I will exercise until I get tired. If you can hang with me to the end, I will go on a date with you. If you fall out, you will wear a tutu to class for a week.”

"Don't do it, Craig," Wilma warned from her position just off the mat. "She will eat your breakfast AND your lunch. And if you lose, we will expect you to wear that tutu!"

“Hell, she can’t be in as good a shape as I am.” Craig scoffed. “I am a defensive back on my football team and I ran track last spring. I think she’ll look mighty fine on my arm, too. As long as I don’t have to do any of those ballerina things, I should be all right.”

“Then we won’t have a weight lifting competition, either. I know you can lift more weight than I can. So, how about we let Wilma decide what exercises we do; only the last challenge will be a distance run until I get too tired to go any further.”

Wilma was smiling, “I will go along with that, but once again, Craig. I am telling you. Don’t do it.”

“You’re on, Christie,” Craig said, a broad smirk on his face.

“Let me run this by Young-Soo, first,” Wilma said. “We don’t want to do something that will make him mad. If he approves of it, we will get right on it right now. If he doesn’t, you may need to come up with a different penalty, Christie.”

Wilma called Young-Soo over, and the two kids explained the bet and the penalties. Young-Soo made sure both knew what was expected and smiled when the kids said that they understood the stakes.

For the next hour and a half, Wilma worked the two kids like an old-time Marine Corps Drill Instructor from the Paris Island boot camp. To be on the safe side, she had them start with stretches, Christie had no problems with but Craig was relatively tight in his thighs and calves. Then she ran them through pushups, sit-ups, crunches, squat thrusts, jumping jacks, leg raises, trunk twisters, arm circles, jumping toe touches and crab walking. Both kids were sweating profusely after they'd finished her round of calisthenics. They put their shoes on and then ran to a school track a couple of blocks away. Wilma gave them five minutes to stretch, hydrate and recover before she started them running.

When she saw the way Craig was running even in the beginning, Christie knew she had him. Football players rarely ran any distances over a mile or two. Oh, they ran the hell out of the forty-yard and hundred-yard sprints, but Charlie and Christie would often run five to ten miles, several times every week. Christie began to actually recover from the brutal way Wilma had worked them, as she ran. Wilma hadn't taken it easy on Christie.

Half the dojang had come to the track to watch. Craig showed well for himself managing to finish two miles. If he had simply matched Christie’s pace, he might have lasted longer. After all, the bet had been that she had to quit, not that he could outrun her. But Craig had decided he’d run her into the ground, a strategy that failed miserably. When he laid down gasping for air on the ground, she just kept to her own pace and ran another two miles further than he had.

Christie grinned as she passed the guys that were helping Craig stretch out where he’d stopped. Sure, she could have quit after he stopped, but she felt that she had something to prove to him. Even when she was Charlie, he’d had problems dealing with people who thought that they were better physical specimens than he was. When Christie finally stopped, she was exhausted, too. She still took the time to cool down properly and hydrate. She would need to take a nice hot bath and maybe use a little Ben Gay on the sore spots, but she had, by golly, still been going when Craig fell out. WINNER!

Craig was up on his feet when she walked up having completed her cool down, and he appeared quite contrite, too. Gingerly, he walked over to her and offered her his hand, “Damn girl, you won. I still can’t believe it. I will honor my bet, but I still can’t believe it. I can’t believe I had to run into a Jack ‘F***en’ LaLanne in a skirt. Are all ballerinas like you? Do you think maybe they can catch a football or make a tackle?.”

Christie shook his hand giggling. She was glad that he was taking it all in a good-natured way, "No, not all of them, just the ones who hope to be good, dancing is hard work. And the ones who are won't want to play football. Bruised legs look just awful in a tutu."

Back at the dojang, both kids took long hot showers, to work out the kinks.

Friday, both kids were in the morning class. Mark gave Christie a wink as they lined up, nodding his head to where Craig stood, garbed in a wraparound, chiffon skirt she had used in ballet practice atop his regular uniform. For her part, Wilma was a little disappointed and said as much. She'd had her heart set on seeing him dolled out like a ballerina in a tutu, but everyone agreed that that was enough.

Saturday, Christie was working with her class, doing the back punch, step, back punch drill, when she heard her name being screamed. Turning around to see, she was surprised to see Madame Coulter stalking into the dojang in four-inch stiletto heels.

“Christie, my dear, we need to talk. Now.”

“Excuse me Kyo Sa Nim,” Christie said with a bow to Mark, before she went over to Madame Coulter.

“Renee, you need to step back outside of the Dojang and take your shoes off, please,” Christie said before Madame could say anything.

“What? I most certainly will not. And my name is Madame Coulter,” She said emphasizing her name, “We need to talk.”

“If you want to talk to me, you will step outside of the Dojang and take your shoes off. I will talk with you after you come back after you’ve taken your shoes off, as proper courtesy dictates here.”

“Oh, that is so silly! Look, come outside with me and we’ll talk.”

“I will not!”

If looks could kill, Christie would likely have been severely wounded at the very least. Renee turned, and stepped outside the Dojang, took her shoes off and then stomped back inside. By this time, all the three Kims had come over to investigate the disruption and were standing behind Christie waiting to find out what was going on.

“Now, Christie, we need to talk. I need you back for at least three weeks. Lisa just isn’t working out very well in the soloist role.”

“I seem to recall that you said that she was better than me. Quite loudly and quite publicly, in fact.”

“I did, but it was just to motivate you to do better. I felt you were slacking.”

“That still does not make your problem into my problem. You still have Lisa. She can do most of the dances.”

“Yes, most of the dances,” Renee had to bite her tongue as she forced herself to admit, “but not as well as you, nor does she have the stamina that you do. Why is that boy wearing that skirt?” She said suddenly, as she looked past Christie to see Craig.

“He didn’t have the stamina of my new Jeja Christie, either,” Young-Soo answered, grinning.

“And just who are you?” Madame Coulter demanded.

“I am Kim Young-Soo, owner and teacher of Kim Young-Soo’s Karate. You are interrupting some very important lessons for my student. State your business quickly, please.”

“Well, Mr. Soo,” Renee began but Kim just shook his head. “Christie used to be one of my Ballet students. She quit rather suddenly last week, and I find myself needing her quite desperately for three more weeks. Otherwise, I may have to cancel the recital and that would disappoint a lot of my students and their parents.”

“Renee, as I told you last week. I quit. I am no longer your student. You were too tyrannical and unfair for my tastes.”

“Christie, I will say this just one more time!. You WILL call me Madame Coulter. You do NOT have the privilege of my Christian name!”

“Let us talk with our student privately for a moment, please, Madame Coulter,” Young-Soo said in a respectful tone that set Christie’s teeth on edge.

The three Kims moved well away from where Madame Coulter stood and faced their young student. Young-Soo took the lead, "First, you will address her as Madame, Jeja. What you learned from her, she taught you well, did she not?"

“Yes, but…”

Young-Soo held up a hand to stop Christie, “Even a bad Sa Bum Nim is worthy of his or her title if he truly teaches his students and they learn what is taught. Is what she just said true? Will she have to cancel the recital and will it disappoint her other students?.”

Christie thought for a few seconds and sighed, “Probably. I know Lisa couldn’t do my duet or my solo dance. She could dance the other three routines just . . .just not as well.”

“Would these other students be hurt? After all, they did practice so hard and wouldn’t they prefer to have the chance to show off their skill?”

Christie was torn; she really did love to dance. Even Charlie loved to dance. That was one of the reasons he'd loved doing Poomsae as much as he had. In her heart, she was forced to admit that the other girls would be greatly disappointed if they couldn't dance in the recital. She certainly would have been, had she been in their toe shoes. "Yes, Sa Bum Nim, they would be greatly disappointed."

“Then maybe you could dance these two dances for Madame Coulter and for your former classmates?.”

“As long as she accepts that after the recital, I will no longer be her student and that she realizes that I will only do the pas de deux and the pas seul. If she agrees to those conditions, then I will do it.”

“Stay here, little one, and let us talk with her a bit.”

The Kims walked over to Madame Coulter and began talking with the lady. Initially, she seemed to be arguing with them but eventually, she nodded her head in apparent agreement. Young-Soo waved for Christie to join the four of them.

"Jeja Christie, Madame Coulter has agreed to your terms that you will dance the pas de deux and the pas seul. You will attend her studio for class and rehearsals on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays until you dance at the recital in three weeks. You will come to our dojang on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. After the recital, she will have no further claim on your time."

“I agree, Sa Bum Nim,” Christie replied formally, adding a deep bow.

"Please don't let her get a busted lip or a bruised-up face, Mr. Soo."

"We will try our best to see to her well-being, just as we are sure of your continued goodwill towards her, as well."

~-~

Reluctantly and with more than a little trepidation, Christie entered the dance studio. Many of the girls were excited to see her and ran over to mob-hug her. One stood back and fumed.

“Well I see you are back to save our bacon, Christie,” Lisa said, every word dripping in venom.

“Yes, I heard you were having problems, Lisa. I came back to save the show and after the recital, I will be gone. You can have your little fiefdom to yourself then.”

Christie changed into her tights, leotard and new toe-shoes, before putting her hair up into a bun and covering it. Back outside on the dance floor, she met up with Randall.

“Hi Randy, are you ready to work on our piece?”

“Am I ever,” he said heading for the smaller practice room. “I told MAD… ame that I simply wasn’t going to dance with Lisa. Lisa couldn’t keep up with me and she was only concerned about making herself look good. A Pas de deux is about the Ballerina making the Danseur Noble look good, as his job is making her look spectacular. I tried working with her extra after a particularly rough workout Madame Coulter put the class through. She couldn’t hack it.”

“Well, are you ready?” Christie asked as she wrapped a chiffon skirt around her waist.

“Let me queue up our music.”

Christie and Randall worked on their number for about a very productive hour and a half. They danced the number several times, paying particular attention to a couple of problem areas. They made some small changes and tried the new sequences out.

Randall then had Christie watch as he did his “Footloose” Warehouse dance. She knew that he was good, probably better technically than she was. He could dance circles around Kevin Bacon. She did stop him a couple of times and made some suggestions. She’d dance her proposed sequences for him to see, then he’d try them out on his own. Randy kept most of them after adapting them to his style.

Christie then did her ‘Flashdance-What a Feeling’ solo several times with Randall critiquing her dance.

“Stop a second,” Randall called out at one point. “In the movie, Alexandra Owens worked as a welder during the day and as an exotic dancer at night. To be a successful dancer, she would have had to be comfortable with her body and her sensuality. You are doing a very good job on the technical aspects of the dance, but you need to kick up your sexy a bit. Don’t think about it. Just do it.”

‘That is easy for you to say,’ she thought, ‘So, we kick the sexy up, Christie!’ She giggled to herself a bit and then started the number over from the top, and then took it WAY over the top in a campy sort of way. Just like some of the characters she’d seen on Ru Paul’s Drag Race show do sexy. By the time she finished, Randall was laughing delightedly and had a huge smile on his face.

“Okay,” he said, choking back another laugh, “You might need to tone that back down a bit or you may get us raided by the morality police, but you’ve definitely got the idea now.”

She took a minute to recover a bit before centering herself again. Then she nodded for Randall to hit the music.

“Dance to the music girl, just feel it and dance it.”

Christie stood ready and when the music came, it was 'Maniac'. She had also been working on a 'Maniac' routine before she'd left the studio so she just went with the flow. While the 'What a Feeling' routine was high energy, the 'Maniac' sequence was insane. She went with the flow of the music and let it take her away. She was a little tired when the number finished but six seconds after the end of 'Maniac', 'What a Feeling' began. She just continued with her dance.

"That is how you ought to do your last dance," Randall cheered. "It will be your swan song. You will be leaving right after your dance, so go out with a bang, girl!" He looked around and stepped closer to Christie. "Madame Coulter doesn't know it yet, and please don't say anything about this, Christie," Randal said and then he whispered. "I am leaving at the end of summer. I have been accepted at and have a scholarship to one of the big schools in New York City. If I do well there, it will bring me just another step closer to joining 'The Dance Company'."

That was the dream for so many of the young Ballerinas and Danseurs; signing on with ‘The Dance Company’ meant you were at the pinnacle. That you were among the best in your craft.

“Oh my, that’s going to curl her hair! Losing her two best students in the space of just a few weeks?”

“Yep. Mom and I will leave town on August 15th, while dad will move in January or February. Oh, and the word I’ve heard is that a talent scout from ‘The Dance Company’ will be at our recital.”

“Can I ask you a question, Randall?”

“Let me guess. You want to know why girls don’t like me outside of dance class,” Randall said. Christie nodded, and he shrugged, “I don’t have the time for girls right now. Look, no offense intended, but girls are high maintenance. They expect and have a right to expect certain things from a guy in a relationship with them. Right now, they’d expect too much from me because I am high maintenance. That is not a good mix. Not only that, but I would never, ever consider going out with another dancer and they’re the only girls I spend any time with right now. I would have tried to make an exception for you, but you and me as a couple wasn’t going to happen, was it?” In answer, Christie shook her head no. “So my being somewhat acerbic and aloof was a defense mechanism for me. And just for the record? I would cut off my left nut before I ever dated Lisa. She is a cow.”

“I wouldn’t call her a cow, she doesn’t have the udders for a proper cow, but yes, I understand.”

“It’s a real shame, if she worked harder, she could be good, maybe better than good. She has the classic Ballerina build, great legs, slim build and flat chest. I think she could make it as a professional dancer if she worked as hard as you do.”

Christie thought about it and after doing both high-energy routines together, she could feel it in her chest. She'd had to work very hard to maintain her balance with her boobs throwing everything out of kilter. And the strain on them from dancing that energetically was another good reason for leaving dance right now.

Truthfully, the same argument could be made to support her abandoning her karate. Some of the Poomsae were pretty energetic, too. Not only that, no one was trying to kick or punch her in the chest when she danced. Christie had a good giggle at her own expense; dance or karate? Which was safer for the 'girls'? Then again, with her karate, she would be able to defend this great bod of hers from people with wicked intent. And by golly, If she had to be a girl, it was better to be a good-looking girl. Karate wins!

~-~

Mark was going over his current crop of students with the other instructors during the weekly black belt and red belt meeting Saturday night. "I am really amazed by how quickly and easily Christie picks up the basics. I would recommend testing her for yellow belt, 8th Geup. Let her skip the 9th Geup Yellow Stripe belt test. As I said, I’ve never had a student pick up the basics so fast.”

Young-Soo thought for a few minutes and then spoke to his father and grandfather in Korean. Grandfather Kim agreed that Christie should test for yellow soon. Every August they tried to retain as many summer students as they could. Getting their students enthused and testing them when proficient was a critical piece of their retention program for summer students.

"It is agreed, then. Christie McKellar will test for the eighth yellow on the eleventh of August," Young-Soo said.

~-~

For the next two weeks, Christie went to both her karate classes and dance classes. Randall wasn't such a prick now that she shared his secret. Tad, on the other hand, was being a real jerk. He'd asked her to go out with him at least a half-dozen times over the last two weeks. This was just another time she resented the loss of her Charlie-level martial arts skills. Tad didn't respect girls as a given. He particularly didn't respect girls that he was three or four belt ranks above at the dojang. Christie was beginning to worry that he was going to become a real problem for her very soon.

Another open issue Christie had on her mind from her Charlie timeline was Valerie Stevens. While Christie had been studying dance, she'd never had much contact with Valerie outside of sharing some classes at school with her. Now that she was training at the dojang again, she seemed to find herself around the pretty blonde rather often, and they seemed to hit it off pretty well. Christie's Mom had talked with her about relationships among girls her age. She'd worried because it seemed so different from what Charlie had experienced with his guy peers. Sure, she had her 'Christie Memories' and some of those were about her girlfriends as Christie grew up. The only problem with that was Christie wasn't sure just how much she could rely on those magically manufactured memories.

One day, Christie found Valerie Stevens crying once in the dojang changing room before a class. Christie asked her what was wrong and the girl replied that she didn't know what was bothering her. She felt like she had lost something, but for the life of her she couldn't think what that something might be. Christie took a seat beside her and held her hand while Valerie tried to compose herself. When she began to calm down, Christie hugged her the way her Mom hugged her when the girl-gloom hit her. Strangely, Valerie relaxed and began to feel better after Christie hugged her and comforted her. The girls' friendship began to blossom after that, and by the end of the summer, they were well on their way to being what Mom had called 'best girlfriends.' Christie decided that it was a nice feeling.

~-~

With the recital only three days away, Christie had agreed only to attend her ballet classes. Sure, it was to be her last dance performance, and she was determined it was going to do her best dance, too. Ever! Not only for herself, or merely to show Renee what she’d thrown away, but as her gift to her Mom and Grandmother who always supported and loved her. Deep down, she knew her Mom was saddened by Christie’s decision to choose karate over ballet and wanted to give her one lasting and very special memory.

Saturday morning, Amanda dropped her daughter off at the theater two hours before the recital. Unusually, Christie was more nervous than Amanda ever remembered Charlie having been. Even when Charlie had tested for his first red belt calm, cool and completely focused on the task ahead. In an earlier aside, Christie had pointed out that Charlie knew he’d get to pound on someone during the test to work off his nerves. Christie, because she was the featured dancer and had become the de facto leader of the little ballet troupe, had to smile confidently and be supportive of her fellow dancers. Amanda knew her support wasn’t half-hearted, either. Christie really wanted all the girls, but especially the young girls, to go out and dance well. Amanda wished them all joy and hoped that they would truly enjoy the fruits of their hard labors.

As she made her rounds of the girls, Christie made a particular point of seeking out Lisa Brandt to wish her well today. Of course, she might have admitted to feeling just the teensiest spark of wicked satisfaction when Lisa almost jumped out of her skin when Christie came up from behind her and wished her well. Christie even smiled at the nasty little bitch when she did it.

The first dance performance went very well. All the young girls danced their supporting roles beautifully and even Lisa did a decent job as the soloist in place of Christie. Randall had already assumed his starting position at the very back of the audience as the girls did their ‘dancers’ run’ to leave the stage.

Their routine had been timed to start about twenty seconds after the applause stopped. Into that lull, Christie began moving in classic ballet style, floated out in front of the stage before the music even started and posed. Her pink chiffon dress sparkled and glittered under the single spotlight and she looked gorgeous.

Then, the stage and house lights dimmed, and the familiar introductory notes of ‘I’ve had the Time of my Life’ began to play over the theater sound system. Christie moved gracefully toward the front of the stage just as the audience realized Randall was coming down the center aisle of the theater. He sped up his last three steps towards her and she fell into his arms for the first lift. The first segment of their dance routine was performed up close and personal to the audience, with Christie up on her toes, and Randall partnering her perfectly.

One young boy tried to try to trip Randall while he was doing a walking lift in front of the audience. Fortunately, his mom caught him just before Randall got to him. “Maybe you would like to join the ballet?” his mom growled, just loudly enough for anyone seated in her vicinity to hear. “Your sister would just love to take you to her school with her and you’d be so cute up there dancing in a tutu.”

Christie made a remarkable leap up on the stage, followed by Randall. The two of them danced beautifully together, Christie worked hard so that Randall’s strength and grace were fully displayed as he showcased her beauty, grace and agility. They received thunderous applause when they finished their number. After a short bow, they hurried off the stage, so the next scene could begin.

Randall had to hurry and change costumes because he only had a couple of minutes before he was supposed to be on the stage with the troupe. He hated dancing with Lisa, but he couldn’t disappoint the other girls in the routine any more than Christie would have been able to so he sucked it up. Christie’s pas de sol would be next on the program. Changing into her flash dance costume, she quietly psyched herself up to go out and kill her ‘What a Feeling’ dance.

As the troupe left the stage she came right out and began by doing her ballet stretches. The music started, and Christie moved into the initial, slow portion of her dance. She went into a slow pirouette, spinning gracefully at her full extension and then came to a stop, holding position just as the music held the last slow note. Suddenly, the music jumped, as did her pace. Christie was in the zone now and it showed. She thrilled the audience with her ability and stamina as her dance went totally extreme. She was having fun and it showed.

When the music ended, she received a standing ovation. She had to stay on the stage bowing till the volume of the applause started to die down. She smiled and waved as she left the stage.

Back in the dressing room, Christie grabbed a quick shower and changed back into her chiffon dress, this time with hose and heels. She thought, just for a weak second, about heading out the back door, that would have been cheating the crowd and the other members of the troupe. Randall was just finishing his Footloose number when she finished dressing and stepped out into the off-stage area. She applauded him and gave him a congratulatory hug as the girls went out for their last number.

Lisa might not have been the best dancer in the show, but Christie thought she acquitted herself well. If she danced these pieces again after two months more practice, she would do much better. In fact, she had obviously worked harder than she ever had in the three weeks since Christie returned to help the show. When the dancers went back on stage for their final bows, Christie let Lisa take center stage, much to Renee's consternation. Christie squatted down and gave many of the young girls hugs and congratulations for how beautifully they had performed.

Sad to say, however, Renee Coulter stayed true to form. Even though her girls had danced their hearts out, the best thing she could be bothered to say was that they danced adequately. Then? Then she began to nitpick their performances. "Sue, you missed your marks. Rita? Your pirouettes were out of sync with the other dancers in the Corps de Ballet," And so on, and so forth. Just typical Renee Coulter sniping and cut downs.

Christie had heard enough! “Excuse me, Renee,” Christie called out, more loudly than necessary, and was pleased when Madame Coulter’s face went pasty and splotchy. A student who did not fear her was the woman’s worst nightmare. She’d miss having Christie, but just now? She was glad the snotty little bitch was leaving. “Despite their few flaws, I think they danced superbly. Even Lisa danced her heart out. I have learned, from my Karate class instructors, that if you praise people, it lifts their spirits and makes them want to work harder for you. Yes, there were some imperfections, but they all danced FAR better than you deserved, Renee. You DEFINITELY should have praised them just now for what they did accomplish, and then waited to work on the supposed imperfections with them later! Like, maybe, next week in class? At least that is what I think.”

Christie spun on her heels and marched out, leaving Renee behind for good. She grabbed her NOT-pink gear bag and hurried for the stage exit, expecting to see her mother waiting. She was there waiting, along with a whole crowd of other folks!. There must have been more than half of Young-Soo's students out there and they were all applauding her! What surprised her, though, was to see all three Kims there, in Tuxedos, no less, standing alongside her mother and grandmother. In the middle of all that confusion, two hands found her waist and lifted her high into the air. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw it was Randall. He'd had come out right behind her, and now he was gracefully carrying her down the three steps. Randall set her gently down in front of her Mom, who had tears of joy and pride in her eyes as she hugged her daughter.

“Christie, you were incredible! I can hardly believe how much you and your dancing have matured.”

"Thank you, Mom, I love you so much, and I am really glad you enjoyed my dancing. I'm just relieved to be out from under the tutelage of Madame Coulter. Can you believe what she told her students after that wonderful performance? "Girls, you danced adequately, blah, blah, blah… Sue, you were a millimeter off your mark, Rita, you were milliseconds off on your turns." Those girls were very good, Mom, and she didn't give any of them a single word of praise!"

“I think they performed beautifully, too, Christie, and I now fully understand why you prefer your karate instructors. Grandfather Kim, Master Kim and Kim Young-Soo.” She turned to face Grandfather Kim. “Please continue taking such good care of my little girl.”

Grandfather Kim answered her, beaming one of his million-dollar smiles, "We will, Mrs. McKellar. Oh, we very definitely will."

Christie sidled up beside Grandfather Kim and offered him her arm, “Now, can a girl take her best guy out to dinner? You can have the other two, Mom.”

Young-Soo turned to his Father, “Dang it, Dad, why does Grandpa get all the prettiest girls?”

“Beats me, Adeunim. He has always been like that. Mrs. McKellar, I hadn’t originally planned on going out to eat, but your daughter’s suggestion is just too tempting. Would you please be my date for the evening?”

“I would be most charmed to be your escort tonight, sir,” Amanda replied, giving Master Kim a quick curtsy.

Young-Soo turned to his twelve-year-old daughter and offered her his arm, "Well, looks like it's you and me, kid."

Eunice, following the excellent example of Christie, said, “Sorry, Dad. I’ve decided that Greg will be my escort,” she said, turning her all-too-knowing eyes coyly on Greg Wenzel. “That is if he ever gets around to asking me nicely to be his date.”

Thirteen-year-old Greg, who had tagged along with his older brother today when he’d learned that his secret crush, Eunice, was going to be in attendance, looked momentarily stunned, but he managed to stammer out something that sounded almost like a date invitation.

Eunice offered Greg her arm and Greg took it.

Young-Soo just shook his head and smiled, “Decided to put the poor guy out of his misery, eh? I can’t wait till your Mom gets back from South Korea. Come along then, Greg and Eun Ae.”

“Daaaad-dy! I’ve told you to call me Eunice!” Eun Ae scolded her father. ‘Eunice’ was close to her Korean name and she liked the Romanized version of her name. “And no fair giving away a girl's secrets like that!”

“I reserve a father’s right to embarrass their children, my dear. Oh, Greg? Would you like to see Eun Ae’s baby photos after dinner?” Young-Soo asked, mischievously.

“Daaaad! Don’t. You. Dare!!”

Young-Soo just grinned wickedly at his daughter before turning away to lead Eun Ae and a goofy-grinning Greg to his car.

The troupe headed out to a fancy restaurant, where there just happened, magically, it seemed, to be able to set a table for a party of fifteen people. Amanda just winked at her daughter.

~-~

Monday morning, Christie was happily surprised to find three of the young girls from her ballet class waiting for her in the lobby of the dojang with their mothers. One of the mothers, Cindy’s Mom, if Christie’s memory held true, smiled, then came over and said, “Hello Christie. You danced wonderfully in the recital, dear.”

“Hello, Mrs. Pettis, thank you, it’s nice to see you, again. Looks like you might have been waiting for me. How can I help you?”

Mrs. Pettis made a circling motion with her hand, indicating she was speaking for all of the mothers there. “We heard what you said to Renee the other day after the recital. You see, Rhonda, Barbara and I went out to eat with our girls after the recital. The girls told us what Renee had said to all of the dancers and what you said to her. I was pretty torn up about it. I love ballet, you see, and I’ve always had secret hopes of having a ballerina in the family.”

Mrs. Pettis shook her head as if trying to shake an unpleasant memory before continuing. “Only, Cindy always seemed to come home after class upset by what Renee had to say about them that day. Well, after dinner, we all came to my home. The girls went to Cindy’s room to play around, I talked things out with Barbara and Rhonda. We all agreed that Renee is good, very good in fact, but she is too full of herself. We felt she was taking her failure to get to the big show out on our daughters and her other students. Dance should be fun and the girls aren’t having any fun with Renee. We decided we were going to pull them out of ballet. When we broke that news to the girls, they were thrilled and then asked if they could take karate with you.”

Christie looked around the door into the studio and saw that Young-Soo was in his office. “Ladies, Girls? Please come with me to Sa Bum Nim Young-Soo’s office.”

“Sa bum nim? What does that mean, Christie?” Rhonda asked.

“It means master or teacher. We use that term for whoever teaches us out of respect for them. They often refer to us as Jeja or students. It’s not like it was with Madame Coulter. They don’t demand the title and the respect, they earn it.”

Christie led everyone to Young-Soo’s office where she politely knocked on the door jamb to get his attention. When he looked up, she bowed and said, “Sa Bum Nim, I have some friends that would like to meet you.”

"So I see, Jeja Christie,"Young-Soo said, standing and smiling. "Come in, please. Be welcomed here. And do I recognize some of the magnificent dancers from Saturday's performance?"

“Yes, indeed, Sa Bum Nim. May I please present to you Mrs. Linda Pettis and her daughter, Cindy, Mrs. Barbara Dwyer and her daughter, Kelly and Mrs. Rhonda Newton and her daughter, Carly. They are here to talk about these young ladies possibly taking Karate.” Young-Soo responded with a quick bow to and a handshake with each of the Mothers before gesturing towards some seating off to the side of his office.

“Please have a seat, ladies. I remember you three beautiful young ladies. You all danced wonderfully. Me and my own daughter, my father and grandfather thought you were marvelous.”

The mothers smiled proudly as their daughters just giggled.

The three moms filled the office couch. Christie started to leave but was stopped by Young-Soo. So she sat on the floor, inviting the girls to join her. All three girls tried to occupy her lap and succeeded to a small extent. Christie just hugged all three girls to her to keep them from falling off her lap.

The mothers talked with Young-Soo, speaking very frankly. Their primary worry was that their daughters might get hurt in the karate classes. Young-Soo explained that while they couldn't guarantee that their daughters wouldn't get hurt, they took every possible safety precaution to ensure that they didn't. He explained that no student was ever allowed to spar until they had reached a point in their training where they could handle and protect themselves. The mothers were told that they could come and watch their girls without invitation, any time they wanted, which was something Madame Coulter didn't like and actively resisted.

Young-Soo was very smooth with the mothers. He was a good salesman when it came to promoting Karate as a safe and beneficial activity for youngsters. In the end, all three Moms agreed to sign their girls up for a one-month free trial before regular tuition fees would begin. They would only be required to buy the uniform.

“Jeja Christie, would you please outfit these beautiful girls and show them around the dojang?”

“It would be my pleasure, Sa Bum Nim. C’mon, ladies. Time's-a-wastin’.”

Christie didn’t have enough hands as each of the girls tried to claim one. That earned a giggle as she led them to the dojang shop and got the girls sized for their dobok. At least after that, the girls had their arms full. Next, Christie led them on a tour.

“Girls, this is important. We always take our shoes off before we enter the dojang - that’s what the main studio is called, by the way. Just take your shoes off and put them in these boxes,”Christie said, demonstrating with her own footwear.

The girls followed her lead, and then she showed the girls the three main instruction rooms where they could expect to take classes and drill.

Entering the largest of the room, Christie explained, "This is the main room, where your classes will usually be taught. See the mirrors on the wall? Just like in Madame Coulter's classroom, you will use those to see if you are doing the moves correctly. Just be careful that you don't kick or hit the mirrors. These other two rooms are usually for advanced students who need space to work on advanced techniques or work with weapons. Don't ever go into one of those rooms without an instructor with you. Like Sa Bum Nim told your Moms, we don't want you to get hurt. Over here we have punching bags and weights. Don't play with these till you get more experienced and have permission from an instructor. Back here is the changing room and the showers," Christie dramatically pinched her nose and lowered her voice conspiratorially, "The smelly boys go over there and us girls use this one."

The girls all oh-ed and yucked as they passed the boy's entrance, suitably disgusted by such masculine indelicacies. While she'd said it to get a reaction from her charges, Christie realized for the first time just how smelly the boy's side was, even from outside the entrance. Why hadn't Charlie ever noticed that pong, she wondered?

In the changing room, there were baskets on box-like shelves next to benches for seating. Christie told the girls to find an empty basket to put their stuff into it and then change into their doboks. Christie did the same. She taught them how to put their dobok on and demonstrated how they were supposed to tie their white belts. Christie then led them to the back of the dressing room, where there was a sauna, a Jacuzzi and the showers. "Don't go into the sauna or Jacuzzi without someone older with you," Christie cautioned and then led the way past the sinks, toilets and towels that were near the showers.

The tour complete, Christie hustled her little brood out into the large classroom where she introduced them to their black belt instructor Wilma. Wilma drafted Christie to work with her and the girls and proceeded to teach them dojang etiquette followed by proper stretches and warm-ups. Wilma was beyond amazed at how flexible these girls were. Once she was sure they were all warmed up and wouldn't pull any muscles, she and Christie moved on to start working on basic punches, kicks and blocks. After thirty minutes of what Wilma thought had been a fairly intense effort, she started to take it easy on the girls.

Christie, however, was having none of that! “Keep going, Wilma. These girls are tougher than they look. They aren’t even sweating yet. Madame Coulter worked them a lot harder than this, every class.”

“Okay, Christie,” Wilma conceded. “How about you work with them for a while. I will watch and correct them.”

Christie immediately took control and began to work the girls much harder than was normal for brand new students taking their first-ever class at the dojang. Wilma didn't get a chance to correct them because Christie was on every mistake like a fly on stink, but she did it with style and made the girls feel good about themselves and what they'd accomplished. The girls just soaked it up. Wilma very quickly realized two facts. One, these girls were already very fit athletes and two, they liked Christie and working with her.

When Christie finished with them she had them bow to Wilma, and then to her. The girls were all excited and ran to hug Christie and Wilma.

~-~

Christie soon became a fixture helping with the kids’ classes. Senior instructors noted that she worked the kids harder than the other instructors, but not brutally hard. She just seemed to know when the kids needed to stop and when they needed to keep pushing. Her kids showed remarkable improvement which was also noted by the senior instructors.

In her classes, she had come a long way towards training Christie’s body to some of what Charlie had lost. As time went on, it was clear that she was better than any of the other White or Yellow belts and might just be at least competitive with some of the Green Belts. Still, Christie wasn’t satisfied with her performance or her growth.

A big part of her problem with herself, unfortunately, was that Christie was a girl and Charlie had been a boy. In the two months that she had been working out at this dojang, her upper body strength had improved - somewhat. She had progressed from being able to do fifty-pound bench presses (barely!) to one hundred-fifteen pound bench presses - over a 100% improvement, but still a far cry from Charlie's two hundred ninety-five pound bench press.

One afternoon, she was working out on a heavy bag, wearing her MMA gloves, when her frustration boiled over. She was hitting the damn bag exactly the way that Charlie had, but she wasn't getting the satisfaction that Charlie had gotten hitting the bag. She knew the answer. Her head was both Charlie and Christie, but her body was just Christie. She sat on the floor in the lotus position, frustrated, lost in thought and trying to stare a hole through the bag.

"Jeja, what are we doing?" Grandfather Kim asked. Somehow, he had snuck in and was seated next to her in the lotus position. Surprised to see him, she began to scrabble to her feet to bow to him but Grandfather just put his near hand gently on her shoulder to hold her down.

“Sorry, Grandfather Kim. I was just contemplating how I could assassinate, destroy and kill that heavy bag. I have been kicking and banging on it for hours and I am just not happy with the results.”

Nodding his understanding, Grandfather smiled and ordered, “Tell me about your opponent, Jeja, and I will tell you how to fight him. Not all opponents can be fought the same way, nor can any two fighters always use the same technique to defeat such an opponent.”

Resisting the urge to growl, Christie complied, “My opponent is a thick leather bag about four feet tall filled with nearly two hundred pounds of cotton batting and hanging from the ceiling by four large chains. Unfortunately, he can absorb a ton of damage without being hurt.”

"And yet, it can be damaged with the right attack," Grandfather Kim said as he stood. He stood in a right leg back stance, he did a slow back punch on the bag and then slowly drew his right hand back to his hip. He straightened out his fingers into a spear hand, and with a loud, "Keeahh," he thrust his hand through the leather shell and into the bag. His hand was buried up to the wrist in the heavy bag.

They both heard, “Oh geez, Grandpa, not another heavy bag, those things cost a lot of money. I am going to have to go to the hardware store and buy another roll of duct tape.”

Christie started to giggle, she couldn’t help it. Her mood was much lighter now. Grandfather Kim sat back down next to Christie.

“Don’t try a spear hand thrust, Jeja. That technique requires decades of practice to toughen your hands up enough, and you can lose a degree of dexterity in the effort. Tell me. How would you fight our little Ricky?”

“Oh, god, I hate to contemplate fighting little Ricky! He is so bloody fast, but the only way I could win would be to keep on the offensive and keep Ricky on his heels. I would attack straight on using front leg snap kicks, back fists, jabs, back punches and such. He would turn into a circular attack to counter me. I would use as much power as I could to hurt him and slow the little bug down!”

“And how would you fight Donnie Colt?”

"Geez, Grandfather! Just staying alive against Donnie would be an accomplishment. Okay, if I had to fight him? Well, he leads with his head often and suffers rage at times. I would have to wear him down. I would fight him almost the opposite of Ricky. I would work on staying out of his wheelhouse and pepper him with circular attacks. Round kicks, ridge hands, hook kicks. My power attacks would never hurt him. He has hardened his body to that kind of attack. I would have to target his head, nerve bundles, solar plexus, his joints - knees, elbows, shoulders and his gonads if I was fighting him on the street. I would hurt him as quickly as I could and then run away as fast as I could." Christie started giggling then. "I know I could run him to death if nothing else."

“Yet, that isn’t how Charlie fought him,” Grandfather observed casually.

“I am not Charlie any longer,” Christie said, without thinking, and then nearly wrenched her neck as her head spun to stare at Grandfather Kim. “You know? Knew? How?”

“Jeja, there is much for you to learn. There is more magic in this world than what you know.”

“Of course! YOU saved Jimmy from that darn dog. We couldn’t figure out what happened!”

“No good deed should be left undone. I was there changing a tire on my car. The dog burst through the glass door, but I screwed with its mind and sent him running home. The Pritchards probably found their dog hiding under his master’s bed. People shouldn’t own such dangerous animals unless they can and will control them. Unfortunately, Mr. Pritchard has a mean streak to go along with his paranoia.”

“But, why do I still have the car? Mr. Wilson gave it to me, I mean, to Charlie for saving his son’s life. I doubt Mr. Wilson even knows me as Christie.”

"Again I say, no good deed should go undone. I arranged for you to receive that car, and I expect to see you driving that car soon, Jeja. Now back to the issue before us. Christie, your mind, body and spirit are not in balance. Practice and self-discipline will bring your body and mind into line, but you have much work yet to do to bring your spirit in line. You will never find balance till all three are in tune. Now, what are your strengths, Christie?"

"I have better balance than I ever had before. I have great stamina and killer legs," Christie said giggling. At Grandfather's flat stare, she choked them back and continued. "I mean, I feel that my round kicks, hook kicks and snap kicks will be great. My sidekicks and back kicks will suffer in comparison to Charlie's. He had twenty-five pounds of core muscle I will never have. On the other hand, umm, other foot? Anyway, my feet are a lot stronger than his. Charlie could never go en pointe. My weaknesses, as long as I am Christie? I will always have less power than Charlie. Also, I doubt I'll ever be able to take a hit like Charlie could. I can improve on that, I guess, but my figure would pay the price, and I kinda like my figure!. All the same, to absorb that kind of punishment I would need a significant increase in my lean muscle mass and as a girl that's not going to happen. I could come up with a compromise, though."

“And what would that be, little one?” prodded the old man.

"Not getting hit. I have great balance and agility on top of quickness. I would have to be more like Ricky when as Charlie, I wanted to be more like Donnie. Charlie was a balance of the two styles because he wasn't quick enough to be Ricky, nor powerfully built enough to be like Donnie."

"And there, Jeja is that word again. Balance. Well, keep working on your problems child," Grandfather Kim said, standing and walking off to some other task.

~-~

Christie had a long talk with her Mom about what she learned from Grandfather Kim. Amanda was taken aback by the revelations, but then again, not overly so. She knew that there were many more paths to magic than the one her family followed; she had just never figured crossing someone else’s path. Still, as she thought about what had happened and what they’d learned, everything suddenly did fit together more easily.

Christie continued her progress at the karate school and was ready for her tests in mid-August. She would do the test for the 9th Geup Yellow Stripe belt and then test for her 8th Geup Yellow Belt later in the session. She had her required poomsae down cold for the tests. Heck, she 'knew' them all the way to black belt, but she was still working to re-train her body for the more advanced poomsae. At present, she was just about where she needed to be to perform the poomsae required for the 5th Geup Blue Stripe belt.

She had worked and knew she was doing better, but she still wasn’t happy. Nor should she be, she realized. If she was happy with where she was in her training, she wouldn’t train as hard and she wouldn’t improve as fast as she had. Or as fast as she still wanted to improve.

She'd even started sparring with Wilma, Ricky, Tracy and Young-Soo, which was very strange for a mere white belt with less than two months of formal training 'under her belt'. She also found herself working out with the greens and blues at times. Master Kim or Grandfather Kim would just throw her into one of their classes and tell her to swim or drown. She always drew some rather heated glares and stares from students who felt they were too good to associate with an uncolored belt.

And then there was Tad. He kept hitting on her for a date, and in fact, was getting pushier about it every day. Two years older than Christie and obnoxious in the extreme, there was simply no way she would ever date him. She’d rather eat broken glass and rusty nails. Date Tad?!? No. Simply, emphatically, NO!

Now if she could just figure out a way to drive that through his thick skull!

~-~

As had always been their tradition from their Charlie days, Amanda and Christie showed up together on test day. Christie was scheduled for the 9th Geup and 8th Geup tests. At the end of class yesterday, Grandfather Kim had mentioned, just in passing of course, that she might be called in for the 7th Geup Green Stripe belt test, as well. Amanda had brought her digital camera along for pictures and would also buy a copy of the video that the dojang routinely made of the test day activities.

With all the white belts testing during this test session, the judges would need to break all the candidates up into several groups just to be able to manage them all. Christie would have been bored stiff if she wasn’t rooting her other friends on. When her group was called, she could help make her friends look good by looking good herself. She did. The 9th Yellow Stripe test was short and sweet; there was no sparing and the single required poomsae was simple.

The 8th Geup Yellow test was a little more challenging, but she wasn’t even sweating when she finished her poomse. She even managed several satisfying pops from her dobok on all her techniques. She was just a little proud when she realized she had been the only yellow student who created the pops.

She continued on to the 7th Geup Green Stripe Belt test. This test required her to do some sparring, but she was ready for it. There was only one rule in sparring - you had to do your best and not hold back to make your partner look good. She had two bouts and if this had been a tournament, she would have crushed both of her opponents. The two bouts were four minutes each, with two rounds of two minutes each. When she finally sat down after her second bout, she still wasn’t even breathing hard.

She was not prepared for Grandfather Kim to then call her in for the 6th Geup Green test nor was she the only one surprised. Dutifully she took her place on the mat, the only white belt in a row with seven 7th Geup green stripe belts. This test took a little longer as the green belts had more techniques and poomsae to demonstrate than the earlier tests. She also had three sparring bouts with the other green belts.

Her last bout was against Tad. Grandfather stood in front of her as she shook herself out and whispered, “Balance, Jeja. Balance.”

Tad took his stance across from her and looked at Christie. The damn jerk had this huge lecherous grin on his face as if he couldn't wait to get his hands on her. Christie took up her position and took a final deep, calming breath. From the audience, Amanda looked on with a growing sense of concern. She knew of Tad and his reputation from listening to her daughter often venting about his little tricks and snide remarks. She very much wanted to call an end to this bout but held her tongue. She didn't even cast anything to help her daughter.

But she damn sure wanted to!

Wilma Davis had been serving as the Joo Sim for the Green Belt sparring bouts. As soon as she called out, "Sijak!" Tad came flying across the mat at Christie. He led with a chest-high back punch, looking to hit her square on her boobs. Unfortunately for Tad, he hadn't been paying attention to any of her earlier bouts, or he might have anticipated the textbook front leg round kick that knocked him down. He didn't lay a paw on her.

“Kalyeo!” Wilma shouted.

After polling the judges, her kick scored her two points.

At "Sijak" Tad danced around for a bit. They both threw a few back fists that didn't land or were deflected and didn't score. Tad then shifted a bit back and then launched a back leg snap kick with independent motion to close the distance. Independent motion is like taking a hop instead of a step to close on your opponent. Christie slipped the kick and blocked a back fist as Tad's momentum carried him by her, but not before she landed a left-hand back punch to his rib cage. "Kalyeo!" The score was three to zero.

By the end of the first round, Christie was leading the bout five to one. She'd scored another point for a ridge hand and then a back fist, while Tad managed an awkward back fist that grazed her headgear. After a one-minute rest break, they were called back to center-mat. Christie could see him twitching, and knew Tad was on the edge of losing control entirely.

When Wilma called, "Sijak!"Tad came in with a bull rush. Christie countered with a maneuver Charlie had learned as a red belt. She started a jump and rotation at the same moment and launched a jump 360 hook kick. Had she connected with malice on that kick, the result would have been a devastating, bone-crushing blow from the heel of her foot, but all she did was extend her toes, landing a very hard slap with the ball of her foot on his cheek. Adding insult to injury, however, she hit him with a round kick that landed on the other cheek before she touched back down. "Kalyeo!"

You could have heard a pin drop in the dojang as Christie dropped into a defensive stance.

Tad didn't wait till the end of their bout and stomped off the mat. He couldn't even beat a girl! A damn girl wearing a damned white belt had just made a laughing stock out of him in front of the entire damned school!! Grabbing his bag from the side of the mat, Tad stormed out of the dojang not even bothering to change out his dobok or put on his shoes.

Christie was saddened not elated as she had every right to be for her effort. She turned to Grandfather Kim and said with tears in her eyes, “I’m really sorry, Grandfather Kim. I was just trying to keep from being hurt. He was losing control.”

“You did nothing wrong, Christie. We have been trying to save that one for a while, and now, it appears he needs to find another path. Nice combo, by the way.”

The rest of the test went smoothly; they had three blues to test, but no red or black belts testing. After the black belts were deliberated, the belts were awarded. Christie was given a yellow stripe on her white belt. Then she had to put on a yellow belt and a minute later was given a green stripe on her yellow belt. She got to sit for another minute after that before she was called up to put on a green belt. Only two people failed the test. A fifth green belt (Tad) and a third blue (Grace) had failed to advance. Grace because she had twisted an ankle attempting the jump 360 hook kick early on in her session and had needed to retire.

After all of the students bowed and the black belts had filed out, the other students mobbed their friends. Christie was attacked by a dozen kids, including the three girls from the ballet school. She playfully called for help as the kids were crawling all over her. When the kids gave her a break she received pats on the back and congratulations from the other people there.

~-~

Summer was winding down as was the pace of daily activity for the school-age kids attending the two studios. The extra class opportunities set up in June were scaled back to their normal schedules as most of the students had begun thinking seriously about getting ready for the new school year.

In the short three months since Charlie McKellar had become Christie, she had needed to learn a great many new things. Often, she found herself especially grateful for the spells her Mother had cast on her in conjunction with her transformation. A lot of 'modern girl knowledge' had just been there for her when she'd needed it, often saving her from an obvious girl-life faux pas that Charlie wouldn't have seen coming with a telescope. She also thought that magic sometimes helped her learn things related to her new life faster. BUT, and this seemed to be a big 'but', evidently getting ready for school, as a teenage girl, wasn't something she instantly knew everything she might need to know. So when her mom chided her for not having started what SHE considered vital preparations two or three weeks ago, Christie had been somewhat baffled.

Later, when she’d finally asked her mother what she’d meant, the answer made Christie wonder when her training wheels had fallen off.

Amanda’s main concern (Christie thought it was a complaint!) was her daughter’s seeming indifference to acquiring a proper school wardrobe. Christie had initially thought her Mother was yanking her chain. She had a closet FULL of clothes - easily two or three times as many outfits as Charlie ever had - for three school years! When Amanda patiently pointed out that everyone at her school, and by everyone, she meant every girl her age or older, had already seen her in all of those ‘old things’. Christie tried to protest that she’d never been seen in ANY of them before school let out for the summer, and found herself face to face with Amanda’s Mother-Smirk of Doom.

“Think back, darling. What did Christie wear on the last day of school?” Without even thinking, Christie reached into her closet and pulled out a bright yellow sundress decorated with lovely little purple violets trimming the hem of the skirt and the neckline and sleeves of the bodice.

“The bodice won’t fit your new curves dear.”

Reaching into her daughter’s closet, she randomly plucked out a corduroy jumper. “When did Christie wear this last?”

"Oh, that's a cold-weather outfit. I guess I wore it last in Febru. . . ." Christie's voice trailed off and her eyes went wide as she began to grasp her Mother's point.

Nodding, Amanda grinned in victory. "And if YOU remember wearing those things, the girls at your school will have precisely the same memories. That's the way the magic works, but if you want to show up for school wearing year-old, out-of-date styles that will probably be too short and too tight on your lovely figure to pass muster with your principal, I guess that's your decision."

Christie actually caught herself pouting. POUTING! How embarrassing. Finally, she swallowed hard, womaned-up and asked in her sweetest possible voice, “Would you go shopping with me for my school clothes, Mom? Pretty please?”

Sniffing loudly, Amanda just stared her daughter down for a very long few seconds, before sighing loudly. "If I must, I must. It is, after all, a Mother's duty to see to her daughter's training, particularly when her daughter needs it so badly. Why Me? What did I ever do to deserve such a fashion impaired daughter?" She asked in long-suffering and melodramatic tones.

Christie grinned back at her wickedly. "Maybe because you changed a perfectly acceptable and well-adjusted male into your daughter? I mean, if you look at it that way, it's your own fault, and now, you have to pay for it! Literally and figuratively." And then she scooted out of the room with her Mom hot on her heels, both of them giggling like loons.

With her karate class commitments scaled back to only three sessions a week, Christie would be able to dedicate most of the next eight days to learning some of the finer points of being a schoolgirl. As her Mother had observed, the first issue they had to fix was her school wardrobe. Now that Amanda had mentioned clothes being 'too tight', Christie had noticed that her bras were getting kinda tight around her ribs and over her boobs.

She and Amanda purchased a large stack of the latest teen fashion magazines, to research what would be "IN" this year. After discussing it with her Mom, they compiled a list of stores to attack starting with Victoria's Secret.

~-~

Before they embarked on the retail assault, Mother and daughter agreed that a thorough set of measurements would be a necessary starting point. Christie was certain she had grown quite a bit over the summer. For one thing, she had quit the very strict diet she'd adhered to for ballet. She was eating a more sensible diet, and some of the clothes she wore, particularly the figure-hugging ones like her pink Flashdance dress, were beginning to get a wee bit tight.

Christie had been 37-23-34 when she'd emerged in June, but now she was a 39-25½-36. Not only that, but her neck was a half-inch larger, she'd added a half-inch across her biceps, and a quarter of an inch at her wrists. Even her trunk measurement (from the top of one shoulder through her crotch and back to the shoulder) was an inch and a half longer now than it had been. Christie decided it was time to head for the kitchen where her mom had marked her height on the door sill every birthday. Christie was now an inch and three quarters taller than she had been in June, measuring five foot seven and three-quarter inches tall.

Amanda got out her scale, one of the fancy types that measured body fat, retained water and muscle mass, and had Christie step up on it. She got out the little record book she used for such information and entered the new readings. The two women sat down and compared the readings they'd taken in June, July and now August. Christie was eleven pounds heavier than she had been in June, weighing in at one hundred twenty-nine lbs. Her body was retaining two and a half percent more water weight, which wasn't a bad thing given the summer heat, her body fat was up three percent but surprisingly, her muscle mass was a whole six percent higher. In the five weeks since the recital, she had fallen out of dancing form, but she was actually closer to a healthy norm.

Christie still pinched herself to measure fat, the same method Madame Coulter had used to measure her girls and had kept a record of that information in her Mother’s book, too. The two and a half inches she’d gained about her waist concerned her, so she diligently tried to pinch more skin but was relieved when she couldn’t pinch any more than she had at twenty-three inches.

"I don't know what to tell you, Christie," Amanda said, after probing her daughter's waist,

"It sure feels like solid muscle mass to me. In fact, it feels more solid now than it did back when you danced. Anymore solid and you'd be sporting a six-pack which isn't attractive on most girls. You are not getting fat. I think you may have found where a chunk of the six percent increase in muscle mass resides."

“I just don’t want to get fat,” Christie grumbled.

“As much as you like to exercise? Darling, that is NOT going to happen. It’s just that, for the first time since Christie started ballet eight years ago, you are now eating like a normal teenage girl who doesn’t want to get fat. Looking at you, except for your bust, you are still leaner than average. Look at me. Am I fat?”

“Heck no, Mom, you look great.”

Amanda undressed down to her underwear and had Christie measure her. Amanda was larger than Christie everywhere.

“Christie I am 40-30-39 and you just told me that I am not fat, right?”

“You have a great bod, Mom.”

“So, unless you go crazy at the pizza parlor, this is your body in twenty years. If you don’t have any children, you could even have a better body. Well, if you remain a girl, that is.”

“I had almost forgotten about that possibility.”

“That is because you are adapting to your situation, baby. You won’t forget when the time comes for you to choose. Not to mention, I wouldn’t let you forget.”

“I don’t know Mom. There are things I really like about being a girl and at the same time, there are things I really miss being Charlie. It’s a lot to get my head wrapped around.”

“I know, baby, just remember that whatever you choose, you’re still the most important person in the world to me. Now, let’s look at a clothing chart and figure out our sizes. I feel like getting some new clothes too.”

"Can't you just zap the clothes to fit?" Christie asked, curious about what limitations if any, were on her Mother's unique abilities.

“Now, that would just take a whole lot of fun out of being a girl! Besides magic is too important to use so trivially. Maybe if you went skinny dipping and someone stole your clothes? That would be different. Casting a spell that would make the thieves suddenly fit into the clothes they stole? That would be justice, but don’t do it. That’ll open a whole different can of worms because magic always seeks balance. What gets changed in one place might appear elsewhere. You might prevent rain on somebody’s wedding day, and cause a flood somewhere else. Revenge can kill two is another saying we have because it will often boomerang on the caster. You will learn over time that there are times for bold magic, but many more times when no magic or a very subtle application is the better course.”

The last eight days before school Christie spent getting ready to go back to school. She had to learn how to get ready for school. She already knew how to get dressed and such, but she knew it would take her longer to get ready in the mornings. Christie wasn’t exactly a morning person, but neither was she a sleepy head. So she and her Mom came up with a plan for the next three mornings they would get up and get dressed and go out the door each morning in enough time for Christie to get to school.


******************************************************************

Character Summary

Charlie McKellar- 16 year old 1st Geup red belt with black stripe Taekwondo student; teaches the kids under fifteen classes; becomes Christie McKellar, Ballet student

Amanda McKellar- sorceress mother of Charlie/Christie

Kim Young-Soo - 38 year old 5th Dan black belt World Taekwondo Federation (WTF); owner of Young-Soo Karate

Master Kim - Kim Young-Min - 60-year-old Father of Young-Soo; 10th Dan black belt WTF

‘Grandfather Kim’ - Kim Young-Ja- 89-year-old 10th Dan black belt WTF; Grandfather of Young-Soo; Moved from Pyongyang to Seoul in May 1949 before the start of the Korean conflict. Taught Karate to Republic of Korea (ROK) Army from 1950 till 1962. Emigrated to the US in 1969. Rarely teaches karate anymore but is still a fixture at the dojang.

Donnie Colt - 18 year old African American 1st Geup red belt with black stripe; friend and main adversary of Charlie; also Studies Ju-Jitsu and Muay-Thai with hopes of getting into professional Mixed Martial Arts fighting. He teaches kids classes with Charlie and adults with Wilma. Good guy until you get him mad. You don’t want to see him mad.

Madame Coulter - Renee Coulter- Tyrannical Ballet instructor

Lisa Brandt - 16 year old ballet student and main competitor of Christie McKellar for soloist roles; your average no-good, spoiled rotten, high school diva.

Valerie Stevens - 6th Geup green belt; 17 years old; Charlie’s would-be girlfriend; Christie’s BFF, and maybe more

Robert ‘Tad’ Green - 6th Geup green belt; not a good guy; likes hitting opponents too hard during sparring; hates Charlie and Donnie with a passion

Cindy Pettis - 12 year old ballet student. A shy timid girl overwhelmed by Madame Coulter. Later joins dojang.

Wilma Davis - 20 year old 1st Dan Black Belt WTF; Teaches most of the green, blue, red belt and all adult classes; A svelte, wiry, tenacious opponent who gives to Charlie and Donny as good as she gets.

Tracy Wilcox - 22 year old, 1st Dan Black Belt WTF. Teaches classes with Wilma and heads up dojang’s recruitment program for girls; Donnie Colt’s girlfriend.

Ricky Summers - 13 year old junior (1st Poom) black belt; excellent on standard forms (Poomsae) and just fair in sparring

Appendix A

Taekwondo Belt Ranking Used in Mind, Body and Spirit
Belt Color (Rank Designation) Belt Picture Belt and Rank Metaphors
White Belt (10th Geup) Blankness, lack of knowledge, a beginning.

Yellow Stripe (9th Geup) A middle phase between a total beginner and yellow belt. A white belt with yellow stripes on the ends.

Yellow Belt (8th Geup) A seed is planted.

Green stripe (7th Geup) Middle phase between yellow and green. A yellow belt with a
green stripe on the ends.

Green Belt (6th Geup) A planted seed starts to grow and mature.

Blue Stripe (5th Geup) Middle phase between the green belt and the blue belt. A green belt with blue stripes at the ends.

Blue Belt (4th Geup) The sky the grown plant aspires to reach.

Red Stripe (3rd Geup) Middle Phase between blue belt and red belt. A blue belt with red stripes at the ends.

Red Belt (2nd Geup) Red is the color of blood, a warning about the dangers of the skill.

Black Stripe (1st Geup) Middle phase between red belt and black belt.

Black belt (1st Dan): The student is has mastered the fundamentals of Taekwondo and is now ready to learn.