Bound by Tradition Read Free

after a jump, or worse. I risked falling on my ass after a backflip. I was being irresponsible in my lack of caution. I didn’t pay attention to who was watching; I only knew that everyone was.
    I lunged, blocked…and hit my zone. The silence around me was touchable. It seemed everyone was holding their breath for me. The true silence was inside my head. A bomb strike could be going off overhead, and I wouldn’t hear it. This was Zen, this was—
    What I used to love about karate.
    It was once my escape.
    I started training after my mother died, and it gave me a focus other than grief. I loved karate for no other reason than that.
    I’m not sure when karate stopped being my escape and started being my prison, but in a significant moment of clarity I realized that is exactly what it had become.
    I did a perfect backflip, and the crowd went wild, breaking into my silence. I landed, lunged, striked, blocked, and mourned.
    I wasn’t sure what I was mourning: my mother, my lost childhood…
    I was very solemn when the kata ended. I faced the judges and bowed. I didn’t have to look up at the crowd to see I was receiving a standing ovation.
    It wouldn’t matter. Because I’d done my share of refereeing in the past and knew how things were done. I bet the score would be low, even if the performance was technically flawless. My kata wasn’t on the approved list.
    That seemed inconsequential to me, because I’d flown . I’d felt good and powerful. For just a moment I’d been free.
    I left the deck to stand with the other competitors and awaited the judges’ decision. Scoring was always subjective, always a wild card. I could still have a chance.
    The newcomer took my hand and whispered, “God that was amazing! You have to teach me that.”
    I refrained from telling her that her kata was better.
    As competitors were called forward, fourth place, third place, I knew I’d either really bombed and wouldn’t medal at all, or still had a chance at first.
    I didn’t hear my name, insomuch as I heard the instantaneous riot of boos.
    Second place. Again. My father was going to kill me.
    Had I sabotaged myself on purpose?
    “First place, Suki—”
    The crowd’s cheers drowned out her last name, but I at least had a name. Suki . I could find out more about her. She stepped forward to accept the gold medal, and when the judge placed it around her neck, she bowed but then immediately took the medal off and tried to exchange hers with mine. I didn’t let her.
    The crowd was intense, loud.
    “It’s not a popularity contest, Suki. You won with skill.”
    “You’re a hundred times more skilled than I am.”
    The crowd went wild seeing the exchange, and I hugged her, thinking I might have actually made a friend.
    Camera flashes went off like fireworks around us.
    I stretched my neck out and saw my father coming. I raced in the opposite direction. It wasn’t that I was afraid of him. I just needed time to process. I’d never taken second in my life and to do so twice in one day…it would be bad, very, very bad.
    I hit the double doors that led into the bright Las Vegas sunshine and hurried through them. They closed, blocking out the noise coming from inside. It hadn’t seemed that loud until I was outside and faced with silence.
    Heading toward the parking lot, I didn’t have a plan. I needed air. I needed time to think.
    And I’d left my bag in the gymnasium, no money even for cab fare.
    “Hey, Stephanie, wait up!”
    I turned, knowing the voice wasn’t my father’s, thinking it might be one of the other students from our school, but it wasn’t. It was the guy from the parking lot earlier. He was lugging my backpack over one shoulder. “You left this ringside.”
    “Uh, thanks,” I said, looking around him as I accepted the bag to see if my father was still in hot pursuit. I saw him, but he’d strangely stopped at the open doors. He was watching me but then turned suddenly and went back inside. That made me