Beware the Ninja Weenies by David Lubar

dollars.
    â€œWhat beats a ninja?” I asked after Jimmy and Isaac leaped out at me from a pair of lockers, pelted me with fake darts, and scurried away.
    â€œNothing I can think of,” Kyle said. “Except maybe a superhero. Why?”
    â€œI don’t know. It would just be nice to see all of them whacked back into the real world, so they stop acting like ninjas.”
    â€œWon’t happen,” Kyle said. “Not now that they’re taking lessons.”
    â€œI know, but it would be nice. Doesn’t it bother you that they’re stealing your culture?” I figured, being Japanese, Kyle would have a special attachment to ninjas.
    â€œMy culture? I was born in Grand Rapids, just like my dad.”
    â€œBut your grandfather came here from Japan. Right?”
    â€œRight. But even way back when he was a kid, there was no sign of ninjas. At least, not real ones.”
    The ninjas might have vanished ages ago, but the ninja weenies were far from gone. And they were learning some dangerous things. I guess even fake ninjas can do damage. Two weeks later, I saw Jimmy putting Dale Wertner in some kind of headlock behind the school. It looked like it hurt.
    â€œStop that!” I said.
    â€œNinjas do not take orders,” Jimmy said. He let go of Dale and leaped toward me. I put my hands up to protect myself. Jimmy grabbed my arm and put me in a wristlock.
    â€œOuch! Let me go!”
    â€œPledge your allegiance to the Black Mask Clan of Master O’Rourke,” he said.
    â€œKnock it off.”
    He twisted harder. “Pledge!”
    â€œOkay—you have my allegiance.”
    Jimmy loosened his grip. But then he bore down again. “And invite me to your party.”
    Oh, man. How did he know about that? I’d been real quiet about the invitations. I had plenty of friends at school, but there were some kids I just didn’t want to hang out with. So I’d emailed the invitations. I guess kids at school were talking about the party because it was just a day away.
    Jimmy twisted harder.
    â€œOkay—you’re invited.”
    He let go and dashed off.
    I told Kyle the sad details on the way home from school.
    â€œThe last thing you want is Jimmy at your party.”
    â€œI know. He’ll ruin it. And he’ll bring all his friends.” I didn’t see any easy way out.
    â€œMaybe you can talk to that ninjutsu guy,” Kyle said. “He can’t possibly want his students acting like this. It brings him dishonor.”
    â€œIt’s worth a try. Will you come with me?” I was nervous about going there by myself.
    â€œSure. I’ve been kind of curious about the place.”
    When we went into the ninjutsu school, there was a pale redheaded guy sitting behind a counter facing the workout area. I guess it was Master O’Rourke.
    â€œAh, new students. Excellent. Would you like to sign up for a single year or buy a lifetime membership?”
    â€œUh, actually, I wanted to talk to you about some of your students, like Jimmy Butafesko and Isaac Swadman. They’re causing a lot of trouble at school.”
    â€œWonderful!” he said. “I’ve taught them well. Troublemaking is one of the seventy-five secret ninja arts I teach my students.”
    I glanced over at Kyle, who shrugged. I tried again. “They’re going to crash my birthday party.”
    â€œI’m so proud of them,” he said. “Crashing is another of the seventy-five secret ninja arts that I teach. We call it infiltration. So, now that you boys know two of the secrets, would you like to sign up so you can learn the other seventy-three?”
    I could see this wasn’t going to do any good. Before I could leave, Kyle said, “Who taught you to be a ninja?”
    â€œI taught myself,” the man said. “I have a natural gift for martial arts. I’ve read a lot of books and watched all the best ninja movies.”
    â€œHow