Robin Korb

Chapter 1

For as long as Tanya could remember, she’d never been afraid of Friday the thirteenth. Bad luck never darkened her doorway. Evil never lurked in the shadows. And monsters never hid under her bed. Tanya hadn’t stopped these things from happening with a four-leaf clover, a lucky penny, or a horseshoe. She had something better. Something that couldn’t be lost or stolen. Something that sprinkled luck on a day most people feared.

She had her birthday.

While the night before her birthday had always passed at a snail's pace, this year, Tanya could've sworn the clock on her nightstand moved backward. Was the slowness of time an omen that something terrible would finally happen? She brushed that aside, sure her unease came from Sensei Dable’s warped idea of celebrating a student’s birthday. She grabbed the brown-black belt off her bed and wrapped it around her waist.

Tomorrow would mark the third time in her soon-to-be eleven years that her April birthday fell on a Friday. The first happened the day she was born, which, to her paternal grandfather, further proved that Friday the thirteenth bestowed joy and luck and not ill wishes and evil on a person. The second took place on Tanya’s fifth birthday and brought with it Dora. She definitely belonged in the good luck column, even if she’d only stayed four months. She appeared out of nowhere and left the same way. Dora had been the raspberry filling to Tanya's jelly donut and her only friend until three months later. That July is when, at Mom’s insistence, Tanya had her first karate lesson and met Stephen Del Rio, her current best friend.

“Tanya?” Mom said, knocking on the bedroom door as she opened it. Tanya was short for Tatiana, a family name from the old country. “If we don’t leave in the next five minutes, you’ll be late for karate.”

The clock across the room ticked to 6:35, proving time was moving forward and that Mom was right.

“You know how Mr. Dable feels about tardiness,” Mom said. She wore jeans and a T-shirt instead of one of her trademark yoga pants and tank tops. The jeans were a sign she'd had a great day at work and didn’t need to go for a run. Instead, she’d be watching Tanya during karate. Mom’s dark brown hair was twisted and held in place by a large metal clip instead of being in its normally tight bun.

“Yeah, he loves it when someone’s late. That way, he can punish them with his one-armed push-up challenge.” The most Tanya could do was seven to his nearly twenty.

“Exactly. I’ll be waiting in the car.” Mom started to leave, then stopped. “And don’t forget your emergency whistle.”

“Don’t worry.” Tanya wouldn’t think of leaving the house without it, even if it was only to satisfy her mother. “I won’t.”

“Good, it’s better to be safe than sorry,” Mom said as she watched Tanya loop her belt into the perfect knot, then nodded her approval. “Your water bottle’s already in the car.”

“Thanks.”

Mom kept her hand in everything because she cared. Maybe, sometimes way too much.

Tanya waited until her mother left to grab the necklace that weighed next to nothing off the bulletin board behind her bedroom door. She dropped the chain over her head and shoved the blue plastic whistle that felt more like an anchor inside her shirt. She was too old for an emergency whistle, but Mom refused to budge until Tanya passed her black belt test in August.

She rotated the silver chain, so the false reminder that she couldn't take care of herself lay against her back. Out of sight didn't mean out of mind. But it helped.

Tanya straightened her D & D Karate shirt and pulled her longish, scraggly brown hair up into a ponytail. She grabbed the red sequin sneakers that had been the only thing peeking out from under her white bed skirt for six years. Then pushing aside any more thoughts of Dora, Tanya slipped on her favorite shoes, hurried out to the garage, and hopped into Gertie. The restored grey VW Bug was named after Mom's childhood cat.

The music of a dead Russian composer blared from the car's radio. It threatened to make the fifteen-minute drive to El Segundo a long one.

“Seatbelt, please,” Mom said, eyeing Tanya from head to toe. “Where's your whistle?”

“Under my shirt.” Tanya lifted the silver chain for Mom to see. “It gets in the way during class if I leave it out.”

Mom raised her left eyebrow. “I'd better not find it in your pocket again or see it hanging on the bulletin board in your room next to your name tag, which I would also prefer you to wear.”

Tanya's yellow, heart-shaped dog tag was pinned to her bulletin board. In case she forgot, it had her name, address, and phone number on one side and her parent's contact information on the other. But after having the same things grilled into her head forever, Tanya had outgrown the need years ago but only found the courage to remove it last year on her tenth birthday. Her mother complained until Tanya pointed out she still sewed labels with the same information on all of Tanya's clothes, including her underwear. Again, out of sight didn't mean out of mind.

“It won't, Mom.” At least, not for another four months. Tanya buckled her seatbelt and turned down the music to a tolerable level. “Let's go.”

The vintage car chugged north on Highway 1 along the Pacific Ocean, which hid behind various businesses to their left. A rainbow of colors – one bleeding into the next like a tie-dye shirt – filled the Southern California sky as the sun moved toward the water. Mom hit every green light, but they barely arrived at the studio on time with the heavy traffic. She pulled into the parking lot and drove to the front of the gigantic, multi-story brick building.

“I need to run an errand.” Mom stopped at the curb. “I'll be back before class is over.”

“Promise?” When Mom came to karate, it gave Tanya another chance to prove that she could absolutely, positively take care of herself. If only Mom saw Tanya the way her Senseis did.

“Yes, I promise.”

"Okay, see you later." Tanya hopped out of the car, blew her mother a kiss, and rushed into the building. She took the elevator to the third floor and headed down the drab hallway with its dirt-brown carpet and beige walls.

Tanya loved Mr. and Mrs. Dable. They challenged her to be smarter. To be faster. To be wiser. She couldn't wait to earn her black belt and the respect that came with it. Maybe then, Mom would stop being such as worrywart.

Sensei Dable's booming voice, calling the class to the floor, greeted Tanya the instant she pushed the glass door to the studio open. His white T-shirt stamped D & D Karate Studios stretched across his chest. His muscles had muscles. A crease ran down the front of each leg of his black pants, straight and true. His strawberry blonde hair stood at attention, as did he. Mrs. D was nowhere to be seen.

Tanya yanked off her red sequined sneakers and joined the rest of the upper belts on the floor. During the ten minutes of stretching, she thought about her birthday and what her parents would give her.

This year she'd only asked for one thing: the chance to pick where they went for summer vacation.

Mom hadn't said no, but she hadn't said yes either. She probably wouldn't because Tanya only had one destination in mind, a trip to Wisconsin to see where she was born. More than that, Tanya wanted to see if she could find Dora.

When Mr. Dable finally called for class to start, Tanya worked up a sweat doing repetitions of spin kicks, punches, and blocks.

Mom returned when the class moved onto Forms, her pea coat laid across her arms like she was carrying something precious. She disappeared down the hallway toward the coat rack and returned empty-handed a few seconds later. Mom smiled, waved to Tanya, and sat beside Mrs. Dable.

The graceful dance-like routine of Forms was equally taxing and relaxing. Class ended ten minutes later. Tanya, thoroughly exhausted, drew in a deep breath. She blew it out, super glad she'd decided not to spar tonight. It was an early birthday present to herself.

"Tanya Bartek," Mr. Dable said loud. He beckoned her over with a very commanding index finger. "Front and center."

Chapter 2

Tanya walked to the middle of the studio and assumed the ready stance, standing tall and still with her legs a shoulders width apart. Her arms, straight and rigid, hung suspended three inches in front of her thighs. Her hands were fisted and held six inches apart. Tanya remained that way as she stared at the wall of mirrors. Mr. Dable nodded and then assumed the same position. He had this way of smiling and looking stern at the same time. After several deep breaths, he released his body from its rigid stance.

“All right, class.” He clapped several times as he strolled across the charcoal grey carpet. “In preparation for Tanya's black belt test, I've brought her up so we can work on a new drill during sparring tonight.”

“Yes, Mr. Dable,” Tanya and her classmates said in one loud voice.

“Tanya, are you up for the challenge?”

Usually, she would be – the harder, the better – but not tonight. Tanya just wanted to go home, eat dinner, and soak in the tub for an hour before calling Stephen to discuss where they should go for her birthday dinner tomorrow night. "Sorry, Mr. Dable. I wish I could, but my gear's at home."

He turned to the visitor's section. “Mrs. Bartek, did you bring Tanya's gear as we discussed?”

An alarm went off in Tanya's head. She used the wall of mirrors to look at her mother.

“Yes, I brought them.” Mom lifted the large red bag in the air. Her gaze moved from Mr. Dable to Tanya. Mom raised both eyebrows and smiled.

Tanya's clenched fists tightened and then relaxed as she resigned herself to being the guinea pig for the new drill. Thankfully, it wouldn’t last as long or be as grueling as her upcoming black belt test.

“Good, good.” Mr. Dable rubbed his hands together as though he was plotting her demise. The corners of his mouth curled up. He had the weirdest idea of what was fun.

As if on cue, the bell over the glass door of the studio jingled as it opened, and four black belts arrived, sparring bags in tow. They nodded to Mr. Dable. He returned the gesture, leaned against the pile of red and blue mats stacked against the far wall, and said, "Pad up, class."

Everyone slipped on their gear, which included chest, hand, foot, and head guards. The class, now seventeen large with nine wearing belts equal to or higher than Tanya’s, formed a circle around her. Mr. Dable draped an arm across her shoulders.

"Instead of moving around the circle with the loser tagging out," he squeezed Tanya close to him, "Tanya will remain inside the circle for the entire time we are sparring. She will be tested by every one of you. She must determine what type of threat you are and respond appropriately. If Tanya initiates contact or strikes first, she must start over until she completes the circle successfully. Does anyone have any questions?"

While Tanya had questions, she didn't dare ask the most important one, “Why me?”

"Does this mean we'll be doing this challenge for all soon-to-be black belts from now on?" a red belt, who sounded up to the task, asked.

“Maybe. We'll see,” Mr. Dable said, locking eyes with Tanya.

She fought the urge to look away. Focusing on one's opponent, whether friend or foe, was paramount to success in every aspect of a person’s life.

"Mr. Dable," the green belt across from Tanya said, "are you saying if the Tanyanator starts with me, gets to you, and then touches you first, I have to spar with her again?"

“Yes,” Mr. Dable said.

Holy Force, as Stephen liked to say. If she didn't concentrate, they'd be there all night.

“For how long?” asked a blue belt.

"Until she completes the circle or an hour, whichever comes first," Sensei Dable turned to face Tanya. His gaze burned, stirring an emptiness inside her that, over the last six years, she'd taught herself to ignore. She pushed the feeling back where it belonged as Mr. D clapped several more times. "Alright, are there any more questions?"

There were none.

“So,” Mr. Dable smiled, showing his pearly, way-too-perfect teeth, “who would like to start?”

Sensei Dable stared down Tanya as if he dared her to walk away before they started. Fat chance. Failure was not an option. Not in here or in life.

Mrs. Dable pushed into the circle next to her husband. Her red sparring gear hid her third-degree black belt. “I'll start.”

Tanya's eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets. No one ever outsmarted Mrs. D.

***

Forty-five minutes later, after only two restarts, Tanya completed the circle, ending with Mr. Dable. He'd tried to engage her in a conversation, but she didn't fall for his misdirection before the attack. It was relatively easy to guess if the lower belts would be a threat, but the upper belts, some of who had a lot more training, turned out to be a challenge. Some wielded rubber knives or guns but didn't use them. Others tried to be sneaky by attacking after they'd passed her. Several slammed into Tanya to provoke her. They'd taken their cue from Mrs. D, with whom Tanya had failed five times before she moved on to the second person.

Drenched with sweat, Tanya limped over to Mom. Tanya peeled off her pads and drained her water bottle, letting the liquid spill down her shirt. Narrowing her eyes, she glanced at her mother. “You knew about this, didn't you?”

“Of course I did,” Mom said, a smile teasing her lips. “When I talked to Mr. Dable about your black belt test, he suggested doing something new, and I—”

“Tanya,” Mrs. D called. The authority in her voice was like a hand that spun Tanya around. Mrs. D walked over with a bounce in her step and the box of rubber weapons in her hands. Her clothes and short brown hair were dry. Didn't the woman ever sweat?

“Yes,” Tanya said, squeaking out the word, surprised that everyone else had already left.

“You did great, but that's what I expect from one of the best students we've ever had at D & D.” She handed Tanya a box. “I'd like to talk to your mom. Would you put these weapons in the backroom for me?”

"Sure." Tanya headed down the narrow hallway to the storage-slash-changing room and opened the door.

Mr. Dable stood with a birthday cake, surrounded by her classmates.

“Happy Birthday, Tanyanator,” the group shouted.

Tanya may have been sore and tired, but she felt ready to do another round of sparring. Instead, she handed the box to Mrs. Dable and hugged Mom, who now stood behind her. That's when the bell over the studio door rang, and Stephen sauntered in.

She'd met him at karate on a Friday the thirteenth, just a few weeks before Dora took off. It was number two on the list of her favorite luck-filled cursed days. Even back then, he'd had long hair, an obsession with Star Wars, and bragged that his nickname was Brother Luke. His mother gave him the name, which had more to do with the fact that Luke was his middle name. His mother didn't take long to include Tanya in the Star Wars fanfare, dubbing her Sister Leia. His mother claimed Tanya was the left to Stephen's right, the serious to his funny, and the down to his up.

Nothing could ruin her birthday now. She was sure of it.