Girl Punches Out Read online

  “Leggo! What’s it to you, anyway?”

  “They need to sort this out among themselves,” she replied.

  Wayne looked at her quizzically, unable to fathom her interest in any of it. Did she think he wasn’t tough enough to stand up to those guys? He noticed Amanda standing a few yards away with a nasty smirk smeared across her face. Was this her doing?

  He rolled his shoulder out of Melanie’s grasp and turned toward the action. He could see Billy being pushed against the wall again and Danny grabbing Marty’s elbow, when they all noticed Emily approaching from the other end of the corridor. With her dark eyes wide, she gave a quick shake of her head just as Danny was about to kick the back of a knee and Billy was about to swing his fists. They both stopped what they were doing at the same instant, as if on cue. Wayne stopped, too. Jeff and Marty were perplexed, not quite knowing what to do next. If they struck either boy now, it would hardly look like a general disturbance. They might be the only ones blamed for the fight.

  ~~~~~~~

  Melanie watched the entire scene unfold before her eyes, and couldn’t help thinking something else shaped the event. The boys all seemed frozen, as if in fear. That wasn’t quite right either.

  Emily seemed so small, so slight, especially compared to Jeff and Marty. And yet, with just a look and a barely noticeable gesture, she had controlled all of them. Even the kids who weren’t her friends responded to it. How did she have that much power? A moment later she walked right through. They all made way. Jeff seemed particularly careful not to touch her. She smiled at her friends and glared at Amanda. Then she was gone, around the corner and out of sight. The bell rang and everyone hustled off to class. Melanie lingered a moment, watching Wayne before she left.

  ~~~~~~~

  At the beginning of last period, Emily was called to the Assistant Principal’s office. Her footsteps echoed through the empty halls of the South Wing. A freshman coming out of the girl’s bathroom with her head down almost ran into her. She looked up into her face, embarrassed, and scurried off.

  The AP’s office was behind the library, fifty yards or so from the front office. When Emily opened the door she saw the nurse and the school counselor sitting to one side of the central desk. The AP was a large, middle aged woman, Mrs. Abernathy. The three of them stopped talking when she entered.

  “Miss Tenno, I’m sorry to pull you out of class, but we’ve received some disturbing information.”

  “It’s okay to call me Emily, Mrs. A. I like that name.”

  “Thanks, Emily. Can I ask how things are at home?”

  A question like this one had to come up in an official context, sooner or later. But it was clear from the look on her face that Emily still had no idea how to answer.

  “Things are okay, I guess. Why do you ask?”

  “Well, we heard your circumstances changed a bit over the last few months. Is your father still traveling?”

  A pained expression crawled across Emily’s face, and settled in around her nose and mouth.

  “No.” She paused for another moment as she thought about how to continue. “My father died last fall.”

  It hurt just as much to say these words now, as it did the first time she told her mother. No matter how blank and brief she made the statement, it still brought up the same feelings of grief in all their intensity.

  “I’m so sorry, Emily.” The other two women were now on high alert. “I know your mom left years ago. Have you heard from her?”

  “Yes,” she said with a smile. “She’ll be back in the states soon.”

  It was a relief to be able to give this answer truthfully, even if Mrs. Abernathy was sure to misunderstand the way it was true.

  “Where have you been living in the meantime?”

  “Oh, I’ve been staying with friends,” she said, as nonchalantly as she could manage.

  “I see from your file that you’re not a minor anymore. But, tell me, are there any other adults looking after you?”

  “I’m pretty much on my own these days, until my mom gets back. I’ve got my own apartment in town now.”

  “Well, you’ll need to give the address to Mrs. Telford for our records.”

  Emily’s face relinquished the smile thinking about her mother’s return had fostered, as if this innocuous request was more of an imposition than anyone might have expected.

  “But that’s not why we called you in. Rumors about you have been circulating around the school for the past few days, and they seem to have some connection to a text message with a couple of pictures attached.”

  “Mrs. A, I can explain about those….”

  Mrs. Gilman, the counselor, interrupted her.

  “You don’t have to explain. You’re an adult. It’s not a crime to send stuff like that. But it is against the school code of conduct.”

  “That’s not important just now,” Mrs. A. interposed. “We’re worried about you, dear. Girls with turbulent home situations can suffer from self-esteem issues.”

  “I didn’t send that message. Amanda did.”

  “Uh-huh.” The conversation came to a dead stop. “Now why would she do that?”

  “You’d have to ask her. Look closely and you can see they were taken in the locker room in PE.”

  “Well, we did look closely, Emily, and we saw something else, too. Your arms and legs are all bruised up.” She sighed and looked down at the rug. “How did you get those bruises, dear?”

  Emily could not fail to see that these women meant well. But what could she tell them that wouldn’t make things worse? Showing the tournament video satisfied the doctor about the bruises. But it probably wouldn’t have the same effect in this situation. They might just conclude she was a danger to the rest of the students. Staying in school was turning out to be almost as tricky as staying alive. She tried another tack.

  “You don’t have to worry about me. I can take care of myself.” They looked unpersuaded. “Really. I’m very capable. I do my own cooking. I do all the cleaning. I get straight A’s. I have friends. I’m a very cheerful person.”

  “The text seems to have been sent around by Danny Rincon. Is he one of your friends?”

  “Yes, but… he didn’t send it. I told you.”

  “If a boy is abusive, he’s not your friend. You have alternatives. We can help you.”

  Emily had to smile at this. How many times had she trounced him in sparring at the dojo, after all!

  “You have the wrong idea about Danny. He’s not abusing me. We train at the same dojo. I get the bruises from doing martial arts.”

  As soon as the words came out of her mouth she regretted them. The obvious questions hovered unspoken in the air. What sort of dojo lets kids hit each other as hard as those bruises suggested? What was really happening to this poor, isolated girl? These women looked even more anxious than before. She looked imploringly at each of them. But the weight of their solicitude was just too much.

  “I want to reassure you that we can help. You’re not alone. You don’t have to be afraid.”

  “Trust me,” she said with a forced smile. “I’m not afraid. I really don’t need help.”

  She tried to sound confident, but in the back of her mind she was picturing all the ways she really did need help, all the things she did fear, and the dangers she couldn’t confide to these women.

  There was still the puzzle of the text message and the bruises. It wasn’t clear to anyone what they should say or do next. They couldn’t force her to accept help.

  “We’ll be talking to Mr. Rincon later,” Mrs. A. offered after an uncomfortable silence, clearly hoping to reassure the girl. Of course, it had just the opposite effect, threatening as it did to bring even more scrutiny to her living arrangements.

  “I really wish you wouldn’t do that. He had nothing to do with those pictures.”

  “I know, you think it was Amanda. But his name is on it. I would be remiss not to talk to him.”

  Emily walked back down the halls, pausing
here and there, utterly perplexed by her situation. How had she made enemies so fast? Things had been so much simpler when she was a loner. She was committed to her friends. There was no going back now. But how exactly was she going to learn to navigate the social scene? She had hoped to have put the violence of the past few months behind her at the tournament. But it now seemed to have taken on new life. Even though Mrs. A. couldn’t know the true dimensions of the malevolence facing Emily, she clearly sensed a danger. Emily’s highest priority was to stay in school and graduate. A few months back the main threat she faced came from covert operatives and assassins. But now even the sympathetic concern of school officials threatened to become an obstacle.

  ~~~~~~~

  On the ride home these same thoughts preoccupied her. Emily turned down her street and coasted the dirt bike the last half a block when she spotted him. An enormous Chinese man stuffed into a cheap gray suit. Obviously government issue. Definitely out of place. He loitered a few yards from her driveway. She popped the clutch and revved the engine. But as she sped past it struck her that he looked familiar. One of Tang’s men from the hotel parking lot in Norfolk!

  The brakes locked up the rear wheel and the tire jittered across the pavement as she spun the bike to a stop. With one foot on the ground, the engine idling, she looked him up and down. The tinted visor of her helmet concealed her face. He cringed a bit. Her first thought was: “They know where I live. And that means Danny and his mom are no longer safe.” There was no point holding back now.

  She cut the engine in the driveway, took off her helmet, and glowered at him. His mere presence here was a provocation. Fortunately, Mrs. Rincon would still be at work, and Danny wouldn’t get home for another few minutes. He made no move towards her, and didn’t seem to have signaled anyone.

  She looked about, but saw nothing else out of the ordinary. Like her father, she preferred the direct approach, so she walked straight up to him. He took a backwards step.

  “What do you want?”

  He was slow to respond, seemed at a loss for words. English was probably not his best language.

  “Come on. Out with it.”

  “I have a message…,” he fumbled. “From Tang Tian.”

  Emily stared at him, angry that he was even there, that he had invaded her private space, and especially for the threat she thought it implied.

  “He begs your assistance, Sifu.”

  “Why didn’t he come himself?”

  “He is in prison. He may be dead. He needs your help.”

  “Dead? What help can I be?”

  That sounded wrong as soon as it came out of her mouth. This man was clearly shaken by the message he was bearing. It was a heavy burden. She started over again.

  “What’s your name?”

  The question was a tiny kindness he hadn’t expected. His whole body sagged as he heaved out the words in a breathy voice.

  “Jiang Xi.”

  “Let’s not stand out here. Come on up.”

  ~~~~~~~

  Upstairs, in her apartment, Jiang needed a moment to get his bearings. This was also not at all what he expected. Tang’s men had spent months last year searching the country for her. She had proved infernally elusive. And here she was inviting him into her home.

  He sat in her kitchen while she made tea. Much too big for her furniture, his legs pinched under the table. And she was so small, too, much smaller than he pictured her in his imagination. Of course, he didn’t have the leisure just to look at her the last time they met. She had, after all, nearly killed him and the rest of his team. She had even beaten Tang himself! Perhaps he could be forgiven for having an outsized notion of her stature. But now she hardly seemed threatening at all.

  “Tell me about Tang.”

  “He was arrested for treason.”

  “Because I didn’t return with you?”

  “Yes, Sifu.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “A ministry prison. We think he’s dead. His family needs your help. That’s why I’ve come.”

  “What can I possibly do?”

  “His wife died last week. The Guoanbu took his daughter. We think they will send her to Pyongyang.”

  “His daughter? That’s horrible! What do they want with her? And what’s any of it got to do with me?”

  “She’s six,” he said, evading her question. “She’s called Tang Li Li. The North Korean Security Service, the KDSS, will offer to release her in exchange for you.”

  There it was. He’d managed to say it out loud in front of her. She glowered at him. Her eyes flashed.

  “Are you here for Tang, or for the Koreans?”

  “Forgive me, Sifu. I hate the Koreans. And I hate my superiors for using them.”

  “You can’t really expect me to go along with this. How do I know Tang Li Li even exists? How can I trust anything you say?”

  Without saying a word, he reached into his jacket and placed a photograph in her hand. It showed a little girl with straight black hair in bangs and large, expectant eyes. She looked to be four or five. Neither of them spoke for an uncomfortable moment as Emily contemplated that little face.

  “Tang Tian respected you. He would never ask you to sacrifice yourself,” Jiang finally said.

  He stood up and bowed. She looked at him in silence as he turned to go.

  “How can I contact you?”

  He gave her a card with the number of an import business in Alexandria. Then he was gone.

  ~~~~~~~

  Obviously there was nothing Emily could do for him, or Tang Li Li. But she was now on high alert. Perhaps that’s what Jiang really had in mind. Whatever may have passed between her and Tang, there were other people still interested in her. Was it still the Chinese? Were the Koreans merely acting as proxies for them? Or did they have their own agenda? One thing was certain: she needed to speak to Michael. But that wasn’t as simple as picking up a phone.

  For one thing, it would mean finding a public computer terminal. The software on the thumbdrive Michael had given her made it impossible to trace her call, as long as she didn’t call from the same public terminal twice. Unfortunately, there aren’t a lot of high-tech access points in rural areas. She hadn’t used the public library in Covington yet. It was a bit of a ride, but in her present frame of mind, the distance would give her time to think.

  She went down to the driveway, cast a wary eye around her, and got back on the bike. As she rode through town she wondered about her security precautions. How had Jiang found her? Had she gotten careless? Security hadn’t seemed quite as important after Norfolk. Still, she hadn’t made any imprudent phone calls or spoken to any strangers. It’s true, she wasn’t as wary of everyday situations as before. She had relaxed.

  She didn’t own a cell phone or a computer with internet capability, precisely in order to make it difficult to track her. Of course, it also made it hard for friends to contact her. She had a web-based email account which she checked occasionally, but never from school. These had begun to feel like obtrusive measures for a teen to take. Now she was glad to have maintained them.

  The road down through the mountains was bleak. There were no leaves yet. The sun still hung low in the sky. The first green shoots wouldn’t be visible for a while yet. As she wound her way through the valleys, her eyes raked the scenery, sifting it for any sign of pursuit. She registered every side road and path, any place where she could turn off to avoid someone.

  Covington was the largest city in this part of the state, west of the Shenandoahs. It was the county seat of Allegheny county. But it was still a small town, the last stop on Interstate 64 heading to West Virginia. One high school, county offices, a mall, lots of freight businesses, a chemical plant, a couple of abandoned textile mills, a park on the river.

  She turned on to West Riverside Street and pulled up to the Jones Memorial Library. The large two story brick building stood on one edge of a public parking lot, a block from the river. She put the dirt bike in a spot in fro
nt, and hurried up the main steps. There were a few terminals next to the old card catalog cases, but they wouldn’t do for a phone call: too exposed. The librarian pointed her to a cluster of terminals deep in the stacks on the other side of the building. With a little luck, they would be secluded and unoccupied.

  Michael wouldn’t expect the phone in his pocket to buzz, but she knew a call from her would be welcome.

  “I’ve got some news. How much time do we have on this line?”

  “Three minutes, Emily. What’s on your mind?”

  “I heard from one of Tang’s men today. Someone named Jiang.”

  “Tang’s cousin. He found you?”

  “Yes, he was at my place. In my kitchen.”

  “Can you describe him?”

  “Enormous, with a crew cut and a round face…, and very sad eyes.”

  “That sounds about right. Was he alone? What’d he want?”

  “Is Tang dead? That’s what he thinks.”

  “I think he’s right. His team was broken up after Norfolk. I think he was killed in a staged prison riot. After that, Jiang slipped off the radar.”

  “Could he be working for the North Koreans?”

  “I hardly think so. Why do you ask?” She sketched the main details of what Jiang told her: Tang Li Li, Pyongyang, a trade.

  “It’s hard to know what to say about that story. It could be true. The Guoanbu can certainly be ruthless. The mother may be dead, and they have been known to use children as pawns. And they’ve used Pyongyang as a proxy before. But I don’t know if we can verify whether they actually have the girl.”

  “What about Jiang?”

  “I can’t believe he would be part of a plan to use his niece.”

  “What about my place. Is it still safe?”

  “I don’t know. What’s your sense of Jiang?”

  “He’s a broken man... kept sifu-ing me. He could still sell me out. But what about my friends? And the family I’m living with? Are they safe?”