The Beast with 1000 Eyes by Laura Dower Page A

Lady) shot me a look.
    â€œKarateka!” she barked. “Geiko! Go! GEIKO!”
    Geiko means practice and mine was starting right then so there was no time to waste. Quickly, I dumped my grappling bag on the floor and unpacked my ear guards.
    Grappling is way more than just karate kicks and chops. It includes some seriously complicated—and dangerous—wrestling moves. That’s why we wear all the protective equipment. Sensei, the head teacher at Dojo Academy, is a firm believer in safety.
    Since I’ve been taking karate lessons from the time I was four, I’ve worked my way up the ranks through blue, green, orange, and red belts. Now I’m this close to getting my black belt. Sensei says he thinks I’m almost there, but I have to do well at the Dojo Academy Karate Invitational next week. Here’s the rule: At Dojo Academy, no one under age thirteen has ever been permitted to get the black belt. I think I may be the very first eleven-year-old to do it. Fingers crossed.
    â€œKiiiiiiiiya!”
    I bared my teeth and furrowed my eyebrows in the mirror. I had to look as tough as possible to succeed in this class.
    â€œKiiiiiiiiya!”
    â€œLess wolf, more tiger,” Sensei whispered as he passed behind me. “Nice effort.”
    I nodded and took a deep breath. Then I threw my arms up.
    Chut-chut-chut-chut.
    My hands chopped at the air like a propeller.
    â€œHey, Min! Not like that!” shouted an annoying but familiar voice.
    â€œBrick! I didn’t see you there.”
    â€œNice helicopter imitation, Min. Can you do seaplanes, too?”
    â€œSure, laugh at my moves,” I grumbled. “At least I’m practicing. Meanwhile, you’re just taking up space.”
    Brick laughed. His real name is Sebastian, but everyone has called him Brick since last year. He is the only sixth-grader I’ve ever met with genuine biceps. (And I only know this because he flexes them at me all the time.) He got the nickname Brick when he unsuccessfully tried to break a block of wood with his head and had to get twenty-three stitches. Everyone started saying he had bricks for brains and, eventually, they just started calling him Brick. He doesn’t care, though. He wears that scar like a badge of honor and he’s probably just as proud of his nickname.
    Brick is always telling the rest of the karate students what to do; me most of all. It can be annoying—except for the fact that he’s usually right on.
    â€œKarateka!”
    Sensei clapped and came to the front of the class to get things started.
    â€œOsu,” Sensei calmly said after we’d all lined up.
    Everyone bowed back. “Osu,” we all said, except for Brick.
    Brick just thinks osu is a joke. He doesn’t really have respect for karate as an art form. He just does it because he gets to show off.
    â€œOsu what , Stella?” he always jokes. “Oh soooooo . . . glad to meet you?”
    I hate that lame joke!
    Osu is important. Sensei taught us that. It’s the Japanese word for patience, determination, and perseverance. Brick doesn’t have any of those.
    Sensei clapped again and asked Brick to demonstrate a kick for the rest of us.
    He stood very silent for a moment and then, in a burst of energy, kicked so hard, his entire body flew through the air.
    Even I was impressed.
    â€œNice footwork,” Sensei said. “Stella, why don’t you demonstrate the same kick?”
    I stared at Sensei but did not move. I felt my cheeks turn red. Then I remembered my dream. Even in the dream, I was about to thrust a powerful kick into the air—and I couldn’t do it.
    What did it mean?
    Somehow, I knew that mastering that kick was very important. It would get me my black belt, make me a star in Sensei’s eyes, and maybe even help me get the B-Monster.
    I, Stella Min, also known as the Ninja, needed to figure out how to make it really happen.

CHAPTER 1
    B-MONSTER