My Life as a Ninja Page 3

  Umberto Saves the Day

  We’re only a few feet down the hall before we run into Mr. Demetri. He’s standing by our lockers, gesturing for us to approach.

  “Just the students I’m looking for.” He points to Matt, Umberto, then me.

  “It wasn’t us!” I cry.

  The principal ushers the three of us into his office, leaving Carly stranded in the hall alone.

  Matt and Umberto look as fearful as I am when Mr. Demetri shuts the door behind us.

  “Are you trying to tell me it’s a coincidence that I saw the three of you here last night and today there’s more vandalism? In the exact same place?”

  “You saw us leave!” Matt says.

  “You could have come back,” Mr. Demetri says.

  “You talked to our parents,” Umberto adds.

  Umberto, Matt, and I continue to proclaim our innocence but Mr. Demetri’s not buying it. Before he can grab the directory of home addresses and phone numbers from the shelf, Umberto wheels himself over to Mr. Demetri. He doesn’t speak, just calmly stares the principal down. After a few moments, Mr. Demetri puts away the directory.

  When Umberto does speak, his voice is calm and soothing. “Why would we return to the scene of the crime after you saw us there? That doesn’t make sense.”

  Matt’s about to chime in, but I motion for him to keep quiet. Umberto has this covered.

  “Besides,” Umberto continues, “we like this school. Why would we deface it?”

  The calmness of Umberto’s voice seems to hypnotize Mr. Demetri. The principal sits back in his chair and stares out the window.

  “I wish I knew why someone was doing this,” Mr. Demetri finally says. “This whole mess is taking up too much of my time.”

  “Time that could be spent on the school play.” Matt points to the poster hanging on Mr. Demetri’s bulletin board. “It’s going to be a great event.”

  Matt is totally kissing the principal’s butt and it seems to be working. As he stares out the window, Mr. Demetri tells us to go back to class.

  “That was amazing,” I tell Umberto when we’re in the hall. “You totally saved us.”

  Umberto smiles slow and wide like the Cheshire cat. “The best ninjas know that sometimes you need to be quiet to prevail.”

  Being quiet has never been easy, but I can certainly see the plus side of it now. He might not be able to attend the classes, but Umberto is the real sensei in our group, hands down.

  Frank and Bodi

  The rest of the school day is boring compared to the excitement of being called into the principal’s office. Even a bird flying into Ms. Miller’s classroom isn’t as thrilling as it would’ve been before. Whoever is behind drawing the Minotaurs sure has taken the school by storm.

  When I get back home, Bodi almost knocks me over. Between school and practicing my ninja moves, I’ve barely had time to walk him lately.

  Bodi’s getting older but sometimes he musters his old puppy energy and today is one of those days. He circles around me several times as I grab a stalk of celery from the fridge and plunge it into the jar of peanut butter. By the time Bodi finally settles down, I’ve gone through the entire bag of celery.

  Sooner or later, Frank’s going to have to go back to the organization that will train him to work with the disabled. Still, I keep hoping they’ll forget he’s here and Frank can stay with us forever.

  The second I unlock his cage, he leaps out of captivity, straight onto my shoulder.

  I know we’re only supposed to be getting Frank used to living with humans but I’ve begun his training regimen anyway. I’ve taught him how to turn on the TV and the light switch in the living room. I’ve given up trying to talk Umberto into letting Frank help him around his house; even with the offer of a monkey helper, Umberto insists on doing everything himself.

  When we first got Frank, Mom wouldn’t let me take him out of the house, but over time, she relented and now he gets to accompany me around the neighborhood.

  I used to feel stupid carrying a monkey around in a baby Snugli attached to my chest but both Mom and Frank’s organization insisted. I’m just happy to be able to take Frank outside now without him climbing to the top of a tree.

  On the way to the park, I pass a fire hydrant spraying water all over the street. It looks like someone popped the nozzle off the top of it with a crowbar. Considering we’ve been in a drought for years, it’s a real shame. I look around to find the culprit but don’t see anyone. All Bodi wants to do is lap up the puddles while Frank squirms to get out of the Snugli. I pet the top of my monkey’s head until he finally calms down.

  This new act of vandalism gets me thinking about the Minotaur graffiti. I have to admit it was funny and cool in the beginning, but as time goes on, I can see how Mr. Demetri and the other administrators are annoyed. Is the person behind the mysterious artwork trying to express himself or make people angry? Mr. Costanzo, our custodian, certainly was mad; Matt and I couldn’t help laughing as Mr. Costanzo scrubbed the paint off the back of the school. We weren’t laughing at his hard work but at the curse words he muttered under his breath when he couldn’t remove the paint.

  I let Bodi off the leash at the dog park and, as usual, Frank wants to be set free too. As much as I’d like to, I know from experience how hard it will be to get him back in the Snugli.

  Mrs. Garfield throws a ball to Trixie, her golden retriever, then sees me and waves. I’m glad the days of having to explain why I’m carrying a capuchin in a baby carrier are over.

  I sit on the bench as Bodi sniffs his way around the park. There’s no ninja class tomorrow, so Matt, Carly, and I have the rest of the week to decide if we’re quitting Sensei Takai’s class. Standing in silence for half an hour was torture but I have to admit that watching Umberto with Mr. Demetri makes me think twice about the power of silence. Maybe Sensei Takai has something to teach us after all.

  By the time Bodi’s ready to head home, I make a decision. No matter what Matt and Carly decide, I’m going to give Sensei Takai one more chance.

  Saturday with Dad

  Because Mom has experience working with exotic animals, she sometimes gets called in to help with strange situations. Yesterday a mountain lion was spotted roaming through Griffith Park and the rangers had to shoot him with their tranquilizer guns to subdue him. It turns out he was malnourished, which was why he was wandering so close to humans. The animal sanctuary they brought him to contacted Mom, so she’s spending the day caring for a hungry mountain lion. It seems like an unsafe activity for a Saturday, but she’s excited by the prospect of helping an animal in need.

  While Mom’s doing that, Dad drags me on a bunch of errands. Some of them are lame (dry cleaners, shoe repair) but some of them are cool (phone store). My favorite is the superstore he goes to once a month to stock up on giant bottles of mayonnaise and detergent. We can easily spend a few hours here; Dad looks at printers while I roam the aisles for free food.

  There’s a woman handing out samples of chocolate-covered pretzels in tiny paper cups in the corner of the store. I come back every few minutes but she catches on after the fourth time and shoots me a look to get lost.

  The checkout line is the longest I’ve ever seen, snaking from the front of the store to the appliance department. Dad tries to engage me in a game of I Spy while we wait, but that hasn’t worked since I was little, so I hit up the sample tables one more time, leaving him to wait in line alone.

  Back home, we put the groceries away and Dad challenges me to a video game. One fun result of Dad getting laid off last year was that he and I discovered we liked playing video games together. Most of the time I beat him, but once in a while he surprises me and kicks my butt. We play for an hour, eating in front of the TV, which Mom usually doesn’t like us to do.

  When I look for him later to tell him I’m skateboarding over to Matt’s, I find him at his desk, buried under a stack of portfolios.

  “Before you leave, would you mind sharing some
of your art expertise?” he asks.

  It’s nice of Dad to ask for my help but he knows a thousand times more about art than I ever will. I do appreciate the way he always tries to make me feel like my opinion is valuable.

  He flips through the large leather folder and shows me several illustrations. Some are busy and colorful; others are more traditional. Dad sorts them into several different piles across his desk.

  “We’re looking to bring on a few more artists for this new advertising campaign. I’m setting up interviews now—which of these artists would you bring in?”

  I look through the various drawings while Dad tells me about the different artists—one a graduate student at USC, another a web designer in Pasadena.

  “The ones in this pile are funny,” I tell him. “And the writing is so fancy.”

  He tells me it’s called calligraphy. I look at the drawings again and tell him I like them the best.

  “That’s what I think too.” He tells me he’ll set up an appointment with Felix Manning.

  “If he’s half as funny as his name, he’ll definitely do a cool campaign.”

  Just as I’m about to head to Matt’s, my mother pulls into the driveway. She’s overflowing with stories about how she tried to feed a sick mountain lion pieces of meat. By the time she’s finished, it’s too late to go to Matt’s.

  But I don’t mind—it’s not every day you get to hear your mom talk about tangling with a dangerous predator.

  You Want Us to What?

  Umberto, Matt, and I have been putting off Carly for a week and I’m starting to feel guilty. She’s one of our best friends and I think we should help her, but let’s face it—there are a billion other things we’d rather do in our time off from school. Carly’s persistent and finally pins us down to meet her in the auditorium after school.

  “Okay, listen up!” Carly’s tone is all business as we settle down. “We need more actors in some key roles, so I’m hoping a few of you will volunteer.”

  In the back of the room, Matt, Umberto, and I are only half listening because we’re taking turns playing a new game on Matt’s phone. (Let me just say it shouldn’t be so hard to flip a pancake.)

  “I’m happy with the parts we’ve already cast,” Carly continues. “But we can’t have a play about our country’s fight for independence without Paul Revere.”

  “Paul Revere was a tattletale!” Darcy says.

  Umberto snaps his head with a start. “I’LL be Paul Revere!”

  In all the time I’ve known Umberto, I’ve never heard him mention acting once. But the thought of a wisecracking, multiracial Paul Revere in a wheelchair brings a giant smile to my face.

  “Done!” Carly says. “Now I need someone to play Sybil Ludington.”

  “Who’s Sybil Ludington?” Darcy asks. “Is that a boy or a girl?”

  Carly gets animated as she shares information she has learned about female war heroes. “Sybil Ludington’s ride was more than twice as long as Paul Revere’s, plus it was through the night—alone. And she was only sixteen!”

  Darcy waves her hand. “I’ll be Sybil Ludington. She sounds awesome!”

  Matt pretends he’s reaching for the phone but elbows me instead. “I bet you a dollar Umberto and Darcy are going out by the end of this play. You in?”

  I can’t tell if Umberto and Darcy are flirting with each other or just kidding around. Will all my friends have girlfriends soon? Did I miss the boat with the whole kissing-Carly thing? And most important, should I take this bet with Matt? These are the things I wonder about while Carly continues to cast the play.

  “I really identified with Abigail Adams,” Carly says, “so I’m happy to play her if no one else wants to.” Carly looks around to see if anyone cares but no one does. “John Adams played a key role in the Revolution—who wants to play him?”

  “Derek!” Matt shouts.

  “What?!” I say.

  “He’s been talking about it all week,” Matt continues.

  “I have not!”

  I look over at Matt; I’ve seen this smirk on his face a million times before. He’s doing this to get me agitated so he can laugh when I freak out. But I’m not going to.

  “I’d love to play John Adams,” I say. “He was a great guy.” I pray no one in the group asks me for details because I don’t know more than a few basic facts.

  “Are you sure you want to?” Carly asks. “I’d hate to see anyone take a part under duress.”

  I tell Carly I’m happy to join the cast. If only she knew I just accepted Matt’s challenge as a way to shut him up.

  Sensei’s Lesson

  Carly bowed out of class with Sensei Takai to visit her friend Amanda in San Diego. I like Amanda and always look forward to seeing her when she comes to L.A. I’m sure the two of them will have a blast, but it’s the first time I’ve seen Carly give up on a challenge so quickly.

  Even without a fun weekend in San Diego, I can’t say I’m surprised Carly’s disheartened with Sensei Takai’s class. On the drive today, Matt and I talk about what we’ll do if our teacher asks us to just stand there again.

  “It’s like that movie The Karate Kid,” Dad jokes. “Wax on, wax off.”

  Neither Matt nor I have seen the movie, so my father has to explain. “The main character wants to learn karate and—like you two—all he wants to study are kicks and punches. But his sensei makes him do things like wax his car and paint his house. The kid gets really frustrated but all the while the exercises are strengthening the boy’s skills—mentally and physically.”

  “Are you telling us Sensei Takai is copying some lame movie?” I ask. “He’s supposed to be an expert!”

  “Maybe the teacher in the movie was based on an expert too,” Dad says. “Who knows? Maybe students have been studying this way for thousands of years.”

  “I am NOT painting Sensei Takai’s house,” Matt says.

  “Or garage,” I add.

  “Or doghouse.”

  “Or fence.”

  Dad laughs as he pulls into the parking lot. “Maybe you two should spend a little more time thinking about what you WILL do instead of what you won’t.”

  He tells us he’ll be at the coffee shop where he’s set up interviews. At least Dad will have a productive day while Matt and I stare into space.

  When class begins, Sensei Takai whispers hello from the back of the room. How is it possible for someone this old to sneak up on five kids? The girl next to me actually screams.

  “Must regain composure,” he says. “Time to settle down.”

  I figure he wants us to sit, but as soon as I start to, Sensei Takai motions for me to stand back up.

  “Today we stand.”

  Matt pipes up immediately. “We stood last time!”

  “Today we stand on one foot.” Sensei Takai tucks his right foot against his left. He looks as sturdy as an oak tree.

  I, on the other hand, wobble and almost fall a dozen times.

  “You need balance,” our teacher says. “Not just in martial arts but in all things.”

  The girl Sensei Takai startled is as off balance as I am. She keeps falling over, and when she finally does stand, the leg with her weight trembles. Matt shoots me a look that tells me today is DEFINITELY his last class. I’m just glad our teacher’s not making us wax his car like that guy in the movie.

  After an excruciating twenty minutes, Sensei Takai stands on both feet as if standing on one leg for that long was the easiest thing in the world. (The girl next to me moans and rubs her foot like she just scaled Mount Everest. So dramatic.)

  “Tonight’s homework—” the teacher begins.

  “HOMEWORK?!” Matt and I shout.

  Sensei Takai can’t help but smile. “Tonight’s homework is to stand on one foot every day for as long as you can until our next class.”

  “Which is going to be never,” Matt whispers as we head to the door.

  “Do you think we were doing it right?” I ask.

  “Yo
u sound like Carly,” Matt says. “This is what happens when you start pretending to be her husband in a play.”

  I stop short in front of the door. “I’m not her HUSBAND—I’m John Adams. Future president, I might add.”

  “Yes, and she’s ABIGAIL Adams—your wife!”

  Even on this chilly afternoon, I feel my cheeks flush. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

  Matt laughs. “Why didn’t you listen?”

  This whole thing reminds me of Susie trying to talk Calvin into playing house with her in one of my favorite Calvin and Hobbes strips. In other words, not good.

  At the coffee shop, Dad introduces us to Felix, who he just hired. The guy has big black glasses and is loading up a leather saddlebag with his artwork. When Dad asks if we want hot chocolates, we happily take him up on the offer.

  Both Felix and Dad laugh when they hear we just spent half the class standing on one foot.

  “It’s building your balance and your discipline,” Dad says. “But for fifty bucks a class, you can stand on one leg at home.”

  “Sounds like you guys aren’t enjoying your ninternship as much as you thought,” Felix adds.

  We laugh at the joke, tell Felix it was nice to meet him, then head home. As we get closer to our neighborhood, we spot two police cars in front of the high school.

  “What happened here?” Dad asks.