by Natasja Eby
“Oh,” Julian said, his eyebrows reaching up to his hairline. “You want me to go with you? Why?”
Now, Adrian could have said any number of things. He could have said he was doing it because I asked him to, or because he wanted to see how dumb Julian would look running. I’m sure Jules was expecting something like that.
But what Adrian actually said was, “Because I want to see you beat Red. And I figure I can help make that happen.”
I thought Jules would say no, but he actually agreed. Poor guy. But it really will help him, and I think he knows that. He must. He’s a smart guy.
When Adrian went back to his table, Julian said, “That guy’s never said more than two words to me. I’m guessing you had something to do with this?” He seemed irritated.
“I asked if he could help,” I said with a little shrug, trying not to let my eyes wander to Adrian’s retreating backside. “But he wants to help, and he meant what he said.”
Jules gave me a sceptical look, but it was obvious he’d already started running with Adrian with this morning. I could tell by the way he carried himself, and how annoyed he was with me. By lunch though, he calmed down enough to tell me about it himself.
Oops, there I go zoning out again. One of the girls—Marissa, I think is her name—is trying to ask me something. I have to get more focused before this boxing thing happens.
“I’m sorry,” I say, as I wrap tape around my knuckles and wrists. My uncle has been making me do this since the very beginning, describing in vivid detail how badly I could hurt myself if I don’t. I’m too afraid to not do it now, and I’m happy to see everyone else around me is also taping their hands.
“I was just wondering how much sparring practice you’ve had,” she says with amused curiosity in her eyes. Most of the other girls are also watching me with that same mixed emotion. They probably all think I’m nuts or something.
“Uh, not much,” I answer honestly, keenly aware of how the other girls are starting to tune into our conversation. “Jules and I have been training with my uncle, but he doesn’t let us spar together. Something about weight classes?”
There’s a round of “Mmhmms” and nodding that makes me feel like I know absolutely nothing about anything. They all seem so informed.
“Yeah, you shouldn’t really fight a guy,” Marissa says, nodding vigorously. “Even if you were good at it, they would never let you do it in the tournament, and it would throw your whole game off.”
“Oh, right, of course,” I answer. I want to sound like I know what I’m talking about, and what she said makes sense.
“It’s good you came then,” Emily says with that ever-present smile of hers. “You can spar with us!”
Agh! I hope I didn’t just make that strangled noise out loud. Emily’s still smiling at me, so I must not have. Sparring? Sparring with them? With people who know how to spar? I can’t.
“Why not?” Emily says, her smile loosening a bit.
Note to self: stop thinking out loud.
“I just—I mean—I don’t really know how,” I admit. “You know?”
She giggles. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Come on.” She slings one arm around my shoulders, her gloved hand resting dangerously close to my face. “We’ll warm up a little and then get into sparring. It’s a lot of fun, actually!”
Right.
A couple of girls are already skipping. Some of them are punching bags or dummies, or doing weird things with their limbs that I can only assume help them limber up. Marissa has gone to the weight set while another girl—Madison?—follows to spot for her. When Emily notices how my eyes bulge at the amount that Marissa is putting on her barbell, she laughs.
“Normally we don’t do lifting and sparring on the same day,” Emily explains. “We trade off so that we get equal amounts of training in during the week. And we must always, always have a spotter.”
She’s very serious about this last point, so I file “always have a spotter” under the very important category of my brain.
“For you, though,” she continues, “I would suggest a mixture of weight lifting, technique exercises, and sparring every time you come in. Only because, well…you know.”
She glances at me, like my whole body, and I get it. She wants me to be in proper shape for the tournament and it’s clear to her that I’m not.
“I’m not going to do very well with this, am I?” I say.
She flicks a hand at me and then reaches down to grab a stray jumping rope off the ground. “You’ll be fine,” she says as she hands me the rope. Even here I can’t escape the endless skipping. “As long as you work hard.”
Ah, and there it is. This is only going to work if I work hard. Darn. I guess there’s no escaping it. If I truly want to be supportive to Julian, I have to want to win as badly I want him to win. Alright then. I guess it’s time to get down to business.
The girls are showing me some warm ups that are supposed to be specific to female boxers, but I feel like that’s their way of making me feel included. It’s actually kind of nice to be treated that way. Although at the same time, I feel like they’re all so much more hardcore than me.
Finally, when I’m all loose and comfortable, Marissa asks me, “How would you like to spar?”
“Oh, I, uh—” As I struggle for words, I notice I’m catching the attention of the others again. Will it always be like this?
“That’s just a nice way of saying get your butt up here,” Denise says. She’s this really tough-looking chick with cornrows in her black hair. She already has a helmet on. I’m scared for my life.
Marissa sees the look I must have on my face and laughs. “Don’t worry, Denny’s really easy on the noobs.”
“If you say so,” I say, trying not to visibly tremble.
Denny hands me a helmet and then grins. After I take the helmet, she knocks her gloved hands together in a typical “I’m ready, are you ready?” gesture that feels familiar even though I haven’t been boxing all that long. Must be from the movies or something.
Someone helps me put my gloves on, and then I get shoved into the small-scale ring that’s been set up for the boxing season. Denny starts dancing on her feet and I start doing the same. This I know for sure: always keep moving. As my uncle told me, it keeps your opponents from being able to hit you.
Denny throws a punch and I’m proud of myself for dodging it. Until I realize that it was a fake and she’s now hitting me from the other side. Ugh. Get it together, Elli. I throw an admittedly weak left cross when I see an open spot, and it lands! Not hard, but still.
Suddenly the other girls are cheering from me, which provokes some taunts from Denny. The girls are all trying to lead me into different moves, but it’s hard to concentrate on their voices and what I’m doing at the same time. I miss a block and my head snaps to the side. I know Denny’s taking it easy on me, and it’s not a hard hit, but it’s still a hit. I’m glad I have the helmet now.
“You really gonna let me take you down, Hawaii?” Denny asks, her cocky little grin still in place.
That is it. I’m throwing my gloves down!
Not literally though, because I still need them.
Suddenly, with a strength I didn’t know I had, I rush at Denny. I noticed she keeps her gloves very close to her face, but it leaves her elbows too far apart. So I fake to the open spot between them and then when she reaches down to block—I knew she’d do that, too—I move quickly enough to land a hit on the right side of her head.
She looks surprised at first, and then her eyebrows lower. Now she knows she can pump it up, which means I better be able to, as well. She hits me, harder this time, on my left side.
“Keep your elbows in!” Someone yells to me.
Right, elbows in. Fists by my cheeks. Dodge that punch! Phew, I did it.
After a good combination of dodging and blocking, I can tell Denny is starting to get bored. She knocks her knuckles against mine a couple times, a taunting move that means I’m
supposed to do something.
“Come on, hit me, Elli,” she says.
She almost sounds kind when she says it. So I feel a little bad when I take this opportunity to get in a swift uppercut to her chin. Her head tilts back, but she recovers quickly and then laughs deeply, because she’s excited to get me moving again.
We spar like this, back and forth for a few more minutes. I do a lot of blocking, because I’m not very confident with my punching, and also because I’m afraid of being hurt. But I land a few good ones, which throws the other girls into fits of cheering. By the end, I know I’ve definitely lost, but they’re all still shouting my name.
“Okay, okay,” I finally say, when I’m drenched in sweat, my muscles are screaming, and I can barely move. “I think I’m done.”
I’m already standing hunched over with my hands resting on my thighs. Denny drops her stance and stops bouncing. With another cheery grin, she comes over to me and helps me out of the ring. Who knew boxers could be so nice?
“You did good,” she says, as Emily starts taking off my gloves.
“Yeah, that was amazing, Elli,” Emily says, excitement running rampant through her voice.
I’m breathing heavy and I feel disgusting, but I have to admit: it feels kind of…good. And addictive. Even without being the winner, the rush of boxing is totally worth the effort it takes to get here.
“That was a lot of fun!” I say suddenly. The other girls laugh and nod, like they knew all along that this is what would happen.
They break apart again to do their own things and I decide that maybe I should check the time. I have to work later tonight, and I need a shower first. When I get my cell phone out of my backpack, I see that I’ve missed four calls from Julian, which is concerning to say the least, since he never calls me.
I call him back and he answers on the first ring. “What’s wrong?” I ask, because I’m sure something’s wrong.
“I don’t know where Dan is,” he says. He sounds a little out of breath. “I went to your house and your parents were gone, and I guess Dan was, too.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, my mind spinning with possibilities. “Did you try the back door?”
“Of course,” he huffs. “I waited for like twenty minutes. That’s why I called you. To see if you knew if he needed to cancel or something.”
“Not that I know of,” I answer. Where could he be? I hear someone yell something in the background on Jules’ end. “Where are you?”
“Well, since I figured training wasn’t happening today, I decided to go for a run instead. I’m with Adrian.”
“Oh,” I say, and I know my voice holds much more warmth in it than it should.
“Yeah, yeah,” he says dryly. “Your boy’s being all nice to me. Look, I’ll catch you later, okay? Adrian’s yelling at me to pick it up.”
“Okay,” I say. Then, because I feel like I should, I add, “I’m sorry. I’ll try to find Uncle Dan. Tell Adrian I said hi.”
“Hah.”
Now I’m not sure whether to stick around here with the girls or try to find Dan. I guess I should see where he is. I mean, I know he’s been training us for free, and maybe he just wanted a day off. But really, I’m worried that he’s somewhere seedy, drinking his weight in alcohol like he promised he wouldn’t do. I don’t like the idea.
I reluctantly tell the girls I have to go, which is the truth anyway. I’m very grateful that they’ve taken me in and I hope they know that. Maybe they’ll be just as nice to me when the actual tournament comes around. But I gather it’s not likely, based on how the other girls are currently sparring together.
Now to find Dan.
CHAPTER fifteen
I call my uncle three times, but every time it goes straight to voicemail. I’m beyond mad now, but I’m also a little concerned. That’s when I remember that maybe, if I’m lucky, Dan might have left his phone’s GPS running, and I could track him down that way.
Opening up the map on my phone, I hope for the best. I wait for a really long time while it finds me and then… Bingo! Dan’s signal shows up somewhere close to the mall, which means he’s not too far from the school. I think about calling him one more time, but opt for just surprising him instead. My only hope is that he isn’t at some bar or something.
I follow my map diligently until it stops in front of a cozy-looking restaurant. When I go inside, the seating hostess offers to seat me, but I wave her off, telling her I’m looking for a friend. She gives me a slightly disgruntled look behind her smile and I walk past her, scanning the half-full dining room.
I see my uncle sitting at a corner table with a woman and start walking toward him without thinking. When I’m halfway there, it hits me: he’s with a woman. Crap. He’s on a date. I know I can’t interrupt that, but before I get a chance to turn and run, Dan looks up and makes eye contact. He gives me a little frown but then half stands and calls my name.
I walk over, surreptitiously eyeing the woman sitting across from him. At least, I hope I’m being surreptitious. She looks young, maybe younger than him. Ridiculously long chestnut hair that’s got a perfect curl to it, big blue eyes, and a mouth that’s twisted into a little amused smile as she eyes me right back.
“Elli, what are you doing here?” Dan asks, trying hard not to sound annoyed.
My face is flushed and I hope they assume it’s from walking out in the cold. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” I say, casting the woman an apologetic look. “But I was worried when you didn’t show up for training with Julian.”
“Training?” Dan sounds confused. “I’m out for lunch right now…”
There’s a clock on the far wall and I look at it pointedly. “It’s 4:30,” I say.
“Crap,” Dan says, sounding genuinely remorseful. “Well, what is he doing now?”
I shake my head. “He’s out running with friends. Working on his cardio and stuff.”
“He has running friends?” Dan can’t resist the barb.
I roll my eyes. “I have running friends.” I glance again at the woman he’s with, who smiles at me like she’s trying to figure out who I am and what we’re talking about.
Dan notices and says, “Sorry I’m being rude. Liz, this is my niece, Elli. Elli, this is Liz. She’s my,” there’s a slight hesitation before he finishes with, “Get Dry sponsor.”
“Oh!” I say surprised. So, was it a date or not? Adults are weird. I stick my hand out. “Very nice to meet you. Sorry again for barging in.”
“It’s no problem,” Liz says in one of those soft voices that you can only expect from someone with such large doe eyes. “You’re the future boxer I’ve heard so much about.”
My face flushes all over again. “Well, I’m not that great at it,” I tell her shyly. “I’m really just doing it for my friend.”
“I think that’s really sweet,” she says, and I get the feeling she knows more about it than I thought.
“Yeah,” I say slowly. “Anyway, I’m gonna get out of your hair now. Go find some…training to do or something.”
Dan winks appreciatively. “I’ll see you later, kid.”
I leave the restaurant feeling awkwarder than life, but glad that Dan was so good about the fact that I just dropped in on his date. To try to put it out of my mind, I call Julian to see if he still wants to come over and do some training with me.
Unfortunately, he says, “Nah, sorry. My grandparents are coming over for dinner soon and then I have homework to do.”
“That’s okay,” I say, and I’m sure he can hear the disappointment in my voice.
“Hey, you can always ask your boyfriend,” Julian teases. “I don’t think he actually does homework.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I mutter, even though I know Julian won’t let up anyway.
“Look, Elli, I gotta go,” Julian says, totally ignoring my protest like I knew he would. “But I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Alright,” I sigh before ending the call.
It o
ccurs to me that I still have to get home somehow before I go to work. But surprisingly, it doesn’t feel too cold out so I decide to walk. Of course, then I realize that “not too cold out” only applies for the first two minutes, then it goes back to freezing. Oh well, I’ve made my choice and I’ll stick with it.
***
Things are different at school. I’ve been trying to put my finger on what exactly has changed and I think I’ve got it. It’s definitely the way people are interacting with Julian. I mean, it’s perfectly normal for kids to say hi in the hallways between classes, do a little catching up, or at least offer some form of acknowledgment. But not for Julian. No one ever pays attention to him.
Until recently, that is. First it was little head nods from some of the jocks, of all people. Then some of the girls who aren’t the populars but aren’t unpopular started whispering in the hallways when he was near, giggling and even saying hi to him. Now I’m watching a group of cheerleaders eyeing him while we eat lunch.
“Hey Jules, have you noticed a slight shift in your popularity recently?” I ask him, as one of the cheerleaders gets out of her seat, her eyes on the back of Julian’s head. I think her name is Lindsay.
He looks up from his textbook—yeah, he’s getting started on homework at lunch again—briefly and says, “No, why?”
I just smile my amusement as Lindsay finishes her trek across the cafeteria and plops down next to Julian. “Hey,” she says.
“Hi,” Julian greets back, staring at Lindsay like she has two heads.
Lindsay smiles and it almost looks genuine, too. Putting her hand out, she says, “Give me your phone.”
Julian’s eyebrows draw inwards, probably as much as mine, and says in a shocked voice, “What?”
Lindsay giggles and touches his shoulder. “Trust me.”
For some reason that is beyond me—okay, let’s be honest, it’s totally about her beautiful red hair and that cute laugh—Julian actually gives Lindsay his cell phone. Once she has it, she takes out her own phone that was hiding somewhere in the recesses of her cleavage, which draws Julian’s eyes downwards for a brief moment before he realizes what he’s doing. He glances at me with a slight blush and confused expression and I just shrug.