Knockout Girl

by Natasja Eby

  “No, seriously,” I persist. “What is his deal? And why do you never stick up for yourself?” I feel a little guilty asking, because like I said, he’s a pretty big guy, but I have to say something.

  He sighs and peers at me over his glasses. “I have no idea what his deal is,” he answers, making air quotes around the word “deal.” “But I don’t stick up for myself because Red is the top high school boxing champion in all of Ontario. So you see, Ella, it’s much better to be pushed around every once in a while than to get into a fight with him.”

  He looks back down at his history textbook to let me know that the conversation is over for him. But it’s not for me. I put my hands flat on the table and let out a frustrated breath.

  “Well, that sucks,” I say, even though I know Julian doesn’t want to hear it. “You can’t just be a bully for the sake of being a bully. The guy has no right!”

  “Yeah, but he’s got the muscles for it,” Jules says wearily. “You’re right though, he has a very strong sense of entitlement, and even the teachers give in to it.”

  “Hmph.” I lean back again and cross my arms. “Next time I see Red, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.”

  “Ella.”

  “What?”

  Jules shakes his head. “I’ve never seen him hit a girl, but I wouldn’t put it past him. Just leave it be and let me take it.”

  A flicker of admiration wells up inside of me at Julian’s toughness, regardless of the fact that I don’t agree with his philanthropic approach to the situation. I mean, there’s got to be something that can be done, right? I decide to leave it alone like Julian asked, but I do put it aside to think about later.

  ***

  I got invited to a party tonight. I don’t really know Andy, the girl who invited me that well, but she was really nice. My parents are at some charity event, so I decide to go. Back home, I used to go to like every party ever, even ones that I wasn’t explicitly invited to. It almost felt like being my normal self to go out.

  But now that I’m here, I feel like a wallflower. I don’t know anyone, so I’m kind of sticking by the drinks table, nodding my head to the music. Before I got here, I felt a little guilty for not inviting Julian. Now I really regret not having dragged him with me because I’m feeling rather lonely.

  I feel really out of place, so I decide to leave way earlier than is socially acceptable. I say goodbye to Andy and call a taxi to pick me up. Someone tugs on my arm as I’m heading to the front door and I turn to see Adrian.

  “Hey,” he says with a huge smile.

  “Hi, Adrian,” I say, genuinely happy to see him. I almost wish I hadn’t called the taxi yet.

  “I didn’t know you’d be here,” he says. “Come on, we should go dance.” He nods his head in the direction of the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the living room.

  “Oh…” I say. “Well, I was actually just leaving. Sorry.”

  He frowns in disappointment. “All right…”

  “Next time?” I offer.

  “I’ll take you up on that.” He gives me a beautiful smile before heading over to hang out with his friends.

  I watch him a moment longer, shake my head, then continue on my way. I reach the front door just as I get a text telling me that my taxi is here. Just as I open the door, in steps Red, Ontario high school boxing champ.

  I look up straight into his dark hazel eyes. Recognition flashes in them and I wonder if I should say something. Then he nods at me, looks away, and smiles in someone else’s direction. (I refuse to acknowledge that it’s a kind of a nice smile.) I follow his movement and watch him almost bowl over three people to get to a girl in the middle of a crowded living room. She smiles sweetly, which makes me want to hurl.

  Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he just doesn’t know his own strength, maybe he’s not totally aware of his surroundings, so when he tries to get somewhere he just kind of accidentally knocks into people. Maybe he’s not so bad.

  People kind of respectfully—or maybe fearfully—keep their distance except one guy. This guy either didn’t see the interaction between Red and the girl, or doesn’t care because he’s standing far too close to Red’s girl. The next thing I know, Red is very purposefully shoving him to the edge of the dance floor, where he trips, knocks some other girl’s punch all over her dress, and stumbles away in embarrassment.

  Yeah, pretty sure I had this guy pegged from the start.

  ***

  Now I’m chilling alone in my room, doing my homework instead of dancing with Adrian because I couldn’t just make up my mind. My uncle has unsurprisingly gone to whatever hole where he spends all his time. I like my uncle, but I actually don’t know that much about him, like what he does with himself, where he works…that kind of thing.

  CRASH!

  I jolt off of my bed at the sound downstairs. I hear some clattering around, and I’m scared out of my mind. I wonder if I should call the police, but the noises have stopped. Maybe I’ll just check it out first. Just in case, I pick up the heaviest thing in my room—it’s a dictionary. Who knows, maybe we’re being robbed by an illiterate.

  When I go downstairs and peer around the corner of the wall that separates the front entrance from the living room, a wave of relief washes over me. Uncle Daniel is here. I guess he knocked over the coffee table and he’s trying to set it right. Something about him is off.

  “Uncle Daniel, you scared the crap outta me,” I tell him. I don’t mean to be harsh, but I am seriously grateful I’m not here with a murderer or something.

  He turns to me with half-lidded eyes. “Elli,” he slurs, “go back upstairs.”

  It dawns on me that he’s drunk. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised after the story he told me, but I am. Instead of listening to him, I come a little closer.

  “Please,” he says, sounding oddly desperate. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

  “How much did you drink?” I ask him, proud of myself for sounding more concerned than disappointed, even though I feel the opposite.

  He runs a hand over his head and laughs a little. “I always knew you were too smart to be part of this family.”

  Whatever that means. He teeters a little and I rush over to help him down to the couch. He’s not a big guy, but I guess when you’re drunk, you have no idea where you’re putting your weight. We sit down awkwardly on the couch. I get up almost immediately and he starts to fall over. I see I’m going to have to do something about him.

  “Here,” I say loudly to make sure he’s listening as I stuff a pillow behind his head. “I’m going to get you some water and chips, okay? Just sit tight.”

  “Sure, but you don’t have to yell, Elli,” he says, looking disgruntled.

  Whoops. Oh well, he’ll just have to deal with it, since I’m doing him a huge favour at the moment. I pour some cold filtered water in a glass and grab a bag of salt and vinegar chips, then bring them back to the living room. I can’t tell if my uncle’s asleep or not, since his eyes are closed, but I take the chance on waking him because I’m actually kind of worried about him now.

  “Uncle Daniel,” I say, shaking him until he rouses.

  “Oh, thank God,” he says when he sees the chips. “I’m so hungry.”

  “No, drink this first.” I hand him the water and pull the chips out of his reach.

  He grunts and offers me a scowl, but takes a big gulp of the water. “You’re so bossy,” he says in a whiny voice.

  “And you’re drunk,” I remind him.

  “Good point.” He groans a little and reaches for the chips that I finally give him. He curses and I look away because now I know why he said he didn’t want me to see him like this. “Your parents are going to kick me out when they find me drunk. I’m such a mess.”

  “Then you should probably drink more water and go have a hot shower,” I tell him. And I mean it. I don’t know what his life is like, but I get the impression that he needs to stay here for a while.

  “You’re so
nice to me, Elli,” he says. “You’re like, the nicest person to me. I know all drunk people say that, but it’s really true. You’re nice.”

  Gee, thanks. “Yeah, umm…thanks. So, what’s going on? I’m not going to have to deal with any of your friends showing up, am I?” I don’t know why I thought that, but I figured it’d be good to ask.

  “As if I have any friends,” Daniel mumbles. “You know, I used to be really cool. I was so cool.”

  “Yeah?” I say, forcing the water back into his hand in an attempt to bring him back to soberdom.

  “Yeah. In high school, I was a champion, you know?” he sounds less slurry now, but he’s still sputtering what sounds like nonsense. “I was like Muhammad Ali. Float like a…float like a bee. No, what is it?”

  “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee?” I hope that’s the one he’s looking for, because I don’t quite feel like searching for similes right now.

  “That’s the one. I floated and I stung.” He closes his eyes. I don’t want to lose him.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, jiggling his shoulder a little.

  His eyes flutter open. He puts his fists up in front of his face and though he’s a little unsteady, it looks as though he’s familiar with the stance. “Boxing. I wasn’t top of my class in academics, but I was a great boxer. The greatest.”

  I frown in thought. “What, at my school?”

  He exaggerates a nod. “Yup. That’s the one.”

  What is it with boxing at that school? I don’t ask. Instead, I say, “So what, do you still box now?”

  He laughs bitterly, but I can tell the water and chips are starting to help him be a little clearer. “Not a chance. Everything went downhill from there.”

  “Really?” I ask sympathetically, actually meaning it. “What happened?”

  “Drugs,” he answers. “Sex, alcohol. I really shouldn’t be talking to you about this.”

  I try not to show my shock or confusion. I’m missing pieces of the story, pieces I’ll probably always miss. I’m starting to wonder if Daniel was dealt a bad hand in life, or if he chose it for himself. I shouldn’t ask, I shouldn’t ask, I know I should definitely not ask.

  “Nothing really works out for you, does it?” I ask him anyway.

  He looks into my eyes, a mixture of sadness and guilt hidden there. “Not really. But that’s probably mostly my fault.”

  I’m not sure what to do or say. I’m not sure what level of comfort is appropriate to give, considering the circumstances. So I go for something neutral, but still helpful.

  “Look, Uncle Daniel,” I say to him, “Mom and Dad are going to be home soon. Why don’t you go take a quick shower and then we can maybe finish off this bag? You’ll feel much better in no time.”

  Physically. Mentally, I’m not sure any amount of showering can help.

  “You really are a great kid, Elli,” he says with a small smile.

  When Mom and Dad do get home later that night, I know they’re surprised to find me and Uncle Daniel playing a car racing game. Daniel still has a bit of a buzz, but his depression took a turn for the better when I suggested hanging out with a video game and now he seems okay.

  “I cannot believe how good you are at drifting!” Uncle Daniel exclaims just as my parents walk in.

  I laugh and wave very quickly at them before turning back to the game. I’m not supposed to “let” my uncle win any games, but I suspect that he’s been doing that for me.

  “Elli, it’s past your bedtime,” Mom says stiffly.

  I frown, because I don’t have a bedtime, but I don’t get a chance to say anything before dad says, “It’s Saturday. Let her live a little.”

  My dad is my hero. My mom needs to get over the past or whatever is bugging her. Mom narrows her eyes at Daniel who smiles kindly at her. It’s the perfect opportunity to side-swipe his car and take the lead.

  “Aw, not again,” he says in a mock-angry tone.

  When the race finishes, I say, “I probably should go to bed. I can’t believe how late it got.”

  My parents are gone, but he says in a low voice, “Listen, about earlier…”

  “I know,” I say. “I won’t say anything about it, but you have to promise me something.”

  “What?” he asks uncertainly.

  “Promise you’ll lay off the drinking,” I say, gauging his reaction. “Like, a lot.”

  He looks guilty, which makes me feel bad. However, I don’t want to back down on this point. With a tight smile, he nods. He may or may not mean it, but what he doesn’t know is that I’m going to be checking in on him. Whether he likes it or not. Because if you ask me, Daniel deserves more out of this life than what he’s giving himself.

  “Alright, Elli, you got me,” he concedes.

  “Goodnight, Uncle Daniel.”

  “Can you just call me Dan or something?” he says suddenly. “You make me feel old with all that uncle stuff.”

  I laugh. “Sure, Dan.”

  CHAPTER NinE

  I’m hanging out with Cherry on my break. I see her every once in a while at the rink. I’m not sure if she has real reasons for being here, or if she comes just because I’m here, but I kind of like it. I actually once caught Cherry out on the ice during a public skate and she looked...well, she looked really graceful and surprisingly athletic. I never would have guessed, but now I can’t unsee the image of her practically floating across the smooth surface, her hands out and behind her as if she were some sort of a bird in the sky.

  I know I just compared Cherry to a bird, but it was really magical, okay? There, I said it. And now I’m starting to wish I could float on ice, but the very thought terrifies me. As it is, I’m watching a bunch of teenage boys flail across the ice in heavy equipment, slashing sticks around in hopes of hitting a tiny little black thing. I do not get hockey.

  “Yo, Ella.” Cherry’s snapping her fingers in my face. “Wow, you zone out so easily. So, how about it?”

  “How about what?” I ask, feeling guilty that I’ve missed part of what she said. I’d been having a hard time keeping track of where Adrian was until Cherry informed me that he’s number 46. It made it a little easier, but these guys move fast.

  She laughs and kind of sighs a little. “You missed everything, didn’t you? Okay, I was trying to tell you how after the hockey practice, we clear off the ice with the Zamboni and well...technically public skating starts an hour after hockey, but we could go on before then. It’s so great when the ice is all fresh and smooth. So?”

  “Me? Out there?” I gesture loosely in the direction of the rink. Has Cherry been reading my mind or something? Except, no, I can’t do that. I’ll die. “Umm...well, I don’t own skates, so I guess not.”

  Cherry gives me this incredulous look and I know there’s no way out. “We have skates here. Come on, Ella, it’ll be fun!”

  I hesitate, even though the offer is really good. “I don’t...I can’t skate.”

  “I know. I want to teach you!” She’s so enthusiastic about it that I can’t see how I can say no. “Plus, the best part is that I’ll be the only one to see you fall. On your butt. Which will happen. But,” she looks behind me for a second, “you got a little bit of padding back there, so it shouldn’t be too bad.”

  My face goes red, and I can’t help but mentally compare my physique to Cherry’s. I’m a tiny little girl who’s still waiting for the appropriate amount of curves. But Cherry... She’s certainly not overweight, but man does she have all the right curves in all the right places. I’m not jealous, but I probably could be if she dressed differently.

  Finally, I give in. “I’ll have to call my parents to let them knowing I’m staying late, but—”

  “Yes!” she practically shouts and a wide grin appears on her bright red lips. “I just know you’ll make an excellent skater.”

  “We’ll see about that, Cherry,” I say with a shy smile. She’s been so nice to me that I can’t really deny her. Plus, who knows, maybe I could
make a great skater?

  A couple of hours later, as I hobble to the ice in what feels like the tightest pair of shoes ever, I begin to rethink this plan. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” I say to Cherry as I clutch her hand.

  “I know, the rubber floor makes it seem really awkward,” she explains. “But it’s totally different on the ice, you’ll see.”

  Oh, yes—it’s different all right. Not easier, but definitely different. I should really start paying better attention to the wording people use.

  Cherry starts off by pulling me behind her while she effortlessly swishes her legs back and forth. I’m terrified by the sensation of it and my legs lock in place, which according to her, makes things worse. So, now she’s trying a variety of techniques to get me to move including skating backwards while holding onto both my hands, pushing me from behind, and even crouching down and individually moving each of my legs. None of it is working because if I move, I will fall and die.

  Which Cherry thinks is funny, judging by how she’s laughing. “Ella, come on. Haven’t you ever been rollerblading before? It’s the same thing.”

  “No,” I admit. “Some of my friends do it, but I always biked everywhere.”

  “Well, we’ll just have to take this one step at a time,” she says. “Literally, like take a step. But don’t pick up your feet. Just push off one foot and let the other one follow.”

  I take a deep breath and out of the corner of my eye, I’m aware of someone in the stands watching us. I figure it’s a janitor or something, so I do exactly what Cherry says. Push off, let follow. I did it! I’m so proud of myself that I hear clapping, and realize it’s Cherry, and she’s even cheering for me.

  I do it a couple more times, alternating my feet, and I’m so happy and free and moving way too fast. And then I fall flat on my butt, like Cherry predicted. I’m surprised it doesn’t hurt that much.

  Cherry gasps and I think I’ve done something horribly wrong until she says, “That was perfect!”

  “I fell,” I say with a groan.