“But I won’t be hitting an opponent for a long time, will I, Chief?” Brad asked.
“Our objective is to build up muscle memory so your moves become second nature,” Ratel said. “It’ll take time and practice.” He motioned Brad away from the mannequin, then assumed the green-light position with both hands on top of the crook. He then assumed the yellow-light position, and then the red-light position with a loud “Stop!” command, the cane held out straight at the mannequin. The next instant the cane was nothing but a blur of motion as Ratel pummeled the mannequin from seemingly every possible angle, striking for an entire minute before assuming the three stances all the way to the relaxed green-light position.
“Holy crap,” Brad exclaimed. “Incredible!”
“There are more strikes and techniques we will learn,” Ratel said. “Until then, your primary assignment is to simply get accustomed to carrying the cane. That is the hardest task for new Cane-Ja students. You must learn the best place to keep it when it’s not in use, remember to retrieve it after you set it on a bus or car seat, and always keep it with you. I guarantee, you’ll lose your cane more than once. Try not to.”
“Yes, Chief,” Brad said. Ratel had Brad practice the swinging and striking moves on the mannequin until their session was up; then Brad changed back into his workout clothes, left the beol in a small storage box in the dojang, and headed back to Cal Poly.
Finals week was fast approaching, so after a quick shower and a change of clothes, Brad headed over to Kennedy Library to study. He found a desk, plugged his laptop in, and started going over lecture notes and PowerPoint slides provided to him by his professors. He had been at it for about an hour when Jodie Cavendish walked up to him. “Hello, mate,” she greeted him. “Well well, look at the conchy. Thought I’d find you here. Ready for a smoko?”
“I don’t know what you just called me,” Brad said, “but I’m hoping it’s something good.”
“Just that you’re a hardworking dude, and I think it’s time for a coffee break.”
“Then I’m in.” Brad locked his computer up in a small cabinet next to the desk and stood up to follow Jodie.
“Do you need to take that?” she asked, motioning back to the desk.
Brad turned and saw that he had left the cane at the desk. “Oh . . . yeah,” he said, and they headed to the stairs. “I knew I’d forget it.”
As they went downstairs, Jodie noticed that Brad really wasn’t using the cane to help him walk. “What’s the cane for, mate?” she asked. “You look like you’re moving fine to me.”
“I still get a tiny bit dizzy once in a while, so I thought I’d carry it,” Brad lied.
“But you’re still on the bike and jogging, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Brad said. “I don’t need it all the time. In fact, I mostly need it just standing still.”
“I hope nothing’s wrong with your noggin, mate,” Jodie said. “The bruise has gone away, finally, but maybe you’re still affected by the whack.”
“I’ve had an MRI done, and they found nothing,” Brad said. He tapped his head and added, “In fact, they literally found nothing.” Jodie laughed at the joke and changed the subject, and Brad was happy about that. Maybe it was time to ditch the cane, he thought. Chief Ratel said he was going to start unarmed martial-arts training soon, and when he got as good with that as he was getting with Cane-Ja, maybe the cane wouldn’t have to be with him all the time.
The coffee shop on the first floor was almost as crowded as it was in the daytime, and they had to take their coffee outdoors. Fortunately, the early-evening weather was ideal. “How’s the studying going?” Brad asked after they found a bench.
“It’s apples,” Jodie said. “I can’t believe I used to study for finals without a laptop computer and all my professors’ PowerPoint presentation slides—I actually relied on my own notes to pass finals back then! Insane!”
“Same with me,” Brad admitted. “I take lousy notes.” His cell phone beeped, indicating he had a message, and he looked at the number. “Someone in Administration, but I don’t recognize it. Wonder what’s going on?”
“Why are they calling so late?” Jodie wondered aloud. “Better return the call.”
Brad tapped the number on the smartphone and waited. “Hello, this is Brad McLanahan, returning a call from a few minutes ago. I just picked up the message . . . who? President Harris? You mean, the university president? Yes, of course I’ll hold for him.”
“What?” Jodie asked. “President Harris wants to talk to you?”