Free The Kite Fighters by Linda Sue Park Page B

champion. He has won the competition two years in a row. No one else has ever done that. I hope I don't have to fly against him."
    Immediately, Young-sup's interest sharpened. He studied the champion closely. The tall boy's face was
calm and emotionless, unlike the anxious expressions of most of those in the line. His kite was plain cream-colored paper, and he held it almost casually. Everything about him indicated confidence in his own abilities.

    Kim Hee-nam,
thought Young-sup,
I hope I do fly against you.
    ***
    In the first several fights none of the competitors attempted a line cut. A fighter was eliminated in one of two ways. Either he lost control of his kite because of bumping or knocking by the opponent, and the kite dove to the ground; or, in his attempts to maneuver, he stepped out of the white chalk circle. Most of the fights were several minutes long, although a particularly hard-fought battle might last a quarter of an hour or more.
    Posted near each circle was a soldier whose sole responsibility was to watch the feet of the fighters. The soldier held a bamboo stick with a red silk square tied to one end, which he raised high in the air if a fighter stepped outside the circle. Young-sup felt a little sorry for these soldiers, who were never able to look up and watch the excitement of the fights.
    At last Young-sup reached the head of the line. The
boy behind him, against whom he would fight, looked to be about his age and size; Young-sup had glanced at him surreptitiously several times. His face was fierce and determined, and his kite well made, with a fine reel.

    The boy who had spoken to Young-sup won his match when his opponent stepped out of the circle. The gong sounded to end that match and begin the next. Young-sup walked onto the field. His stomach felt a little peculiar and his head a little light. Later he would barely remember getting to the circle—somehow he was just there, holding his kite and reel and awaiting the signal to launch. He and his opponent bowed to each other, and the match began.
    Launching the kite with its ground-pottery line had proved a bit tricky. Because of the danger of getting cut, Young-sup had to use extra care when he threw the kite into the air. But the hours of practice repaid him, and his launch now was flawless.
    As the dragon kite rose, the sunlight illuminated its gold-washed scales. The glowing color and the fact that it seemed to fly without a line drew murmurs from the crowd. Young-sup smiled to himself. The King's blue line was indeed difficult to see against the blue of the sky.
    Young-sup maneuvered his line and glanced at his
opponent's kite. It was moving into position to bump his own.

    The start of each of the preceding matches had followed a similar pattern. The fliers had concentrated on getting a sense of the wind and their opponent's skill and strategy, and there had been little fighting in the first few minutes. Young-sup knew that this match would be different.
    He positioned his kite just below his opponent's. Then, holding the reel in both hands, he rapidly drew in some line. The tightening of the line caused the kite to rise quickly. As it rose, the line crossed that of his opponent's and rubbed against it.
    The boy glanced quickly at Young-sup; it was unusual for a flier to attempt a line cut so early in the match. Besides, the technique was difficult to execute. The strategy meant that Young-sup's kite was at all times very near and below the opposing kite and might easily be knocked down. The opponent was looking for such an opportunity and did not move his kite away.
    The dragon kite rose and fell, obeying the commands of the line as Young-sup reeled in and released, reeled in and released. He counted to himself. Two times, three, four...
    On the fifth try he made the cut. As the other kite broke free of its line, the dragon kite jerked and seemed to watch it fly away.

    Young-sup stole a quick look at his opponent. The boy stood in shock,