by Natasja Eby
“What are you doing, Julian?” Dan whispers fiercely. “You gave up before you even started.”
“I know,” he says weakly, wiping sweat off his forehead with his arm.
Jules only has a minute to recover and I don’t want my uncle making him feel worse so I cut in quickly saying, “Don’t do this to yourself, Jules. You have plenty of advantages over Red. Use them.”
“Like what?” he asks wearily.
“He’s so slow,” I tell him, handing him a towel to dry off his sweat. “He gets away with it because every punch is powerful.”
Dan nods. “She’s right. Don’t let him get away with it. Blocking every one of his punches is going to tire you out too quickly, so bob and weave. You’re much lighter on your feet; you should be able to evade him easily.”
“Okay, but that doesn’t score me points,” he says.
“You’ll find your opportunity,” Dan says. “Now get up there.”
Julian nods, but just before he goes, I grab his arm and say quietly, “He’s weaker on his left side.”
Julian gives me a small smile. Maybe he already knew that, but I’m glad I could reaffirm it for him. Being right-handed, he should be able to use that information to his advantage.
The second round goes much better. Even though I know Jules is tired, he makes a very conscious effort to evade Red’s moves. I can tell Red is getting frustrated that Julian seems to have more energy this time around, which makes it easier for Jules to land a few clean punches himself.
Right before the end of the round, Red throws a jab that’s just a little too low and it hits Julian below his belt. Julian is momentarily thrown off-guard by the illegal move and Red takes his chance at giving Julian a swift hook to the head that almost knocks him down. The crowd boos.
“Ref!” Dan yells, going straight up to the ring and looking like he wants to strangle either Mr. Pfizer or Red. “That was way below the belt! Call it.”
But Mr. Pfizer already has the whistle in his mouth because he knows Red was in the wrong. The judges give Red a stern look and I know he’ll be penalized for his actions. They resume with thirty seconds on the clock, during which Julian lands two more clean hits.
Jules is breathing pretty hard when he comes back down to us. I help him take a drink of water so he doesn’t have to take his gloves off while Dan praises him for doing so much better this round.
“He’s tired,” Dan says happily.
“Well, so am I,” Julian huffs. “I don’t know how to get through this round.”
“Three more minutes,” Dan says, patting him on the shoulder. “That’s all it is. Just do what you did this round. Except with more uppercuts. Your uppercuts are amazing and you haven’t used a single one this match.”
“I haven’t had a chance,” Jules complains. “He must be really afraid of them because he’s always got a glove close to his chin.”
“The slip,” I say.
Jules gives me a look. “I’m not very good at it, you know that.”
“So?” I say. “He’s slow. You need to do it. Slip, fake, uppercut. You can do it.”
Julian looks at Dan who simply nods with a thoughtful frown. It’s time for Julian to get back in the ring, and now I seriously regret having chewed down all my fingernails before the fight even started.
Both boys are tired and it’s showing. Still, Julian has the advantage of being naturally quicker than Red and he’s definitely using it now that he knows Red can’t quite keep up. Neither one of them lands a good hit for at least the first minute.
Julian lands a couple of punches, which clearly annoys Red to the point that he actually wraps his arms around Julian’s upper body to stop him. I give Dan a bewildered look but he’s miles ahead of me.
“Hey!!” Dan shouts, his face red, veins popping out of his forehead. “Get your hands off him!”
Dan looks ready to wring Red’s neck but Mr. Pfizer quickly and effectively breaks the two boys up. There’s a momentary pause, during which Dan goes over to Red’s coach to exchange angry words with him. I look up at Julian and he looks confused, even though he’s trying to hide it.
When Dan comes back, I say to him, “What was that all about?”
He keeps his eyes on Julian as Mr. Pfizer signals for them to resume their fight. Then he says to me, “Red was clinching, which you’re not supposed to do in an amateur high school boxing match. You basically just hug your opponent until they stop hitting you.”
“Oh,” I say. “I guess Julian wasn’t prepared for that.”
“There’s no reason he should have been,” Dan spits out. “Red and his coach should know better.” He looks at me and gives me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry; points will be deducted from Red for his belligerence.”
I nod. I wish I’d been paying closer attention to who was landing which hits so I could have a better idea of who was ahead. I don’t know, but I do know that Julian is doing very well and that Red has already made two illegal moves.
With just one minute left, Julian finds his magical moment when Red moves in for a left hook. Julian, knowing that Red’s left side is weaker, ducks just in time for Red to miss. Then while Red is still following through on his punch, Julian leans into what should have been a jab to Red’s chest. But when Red goes to block him, Julian quickly changes his tactic to land the hardest uppercut I’ve ever seen him throw.
Red’s head snaps back and he’s just off-balance enough that he actually stumbles backwards, straight onto the ground. The crowd goes wild as Mr. Pfizer begins his count.
I’m stunned but Julian’s victory is short-lived as Red recovers around the three-second mark. Still, it’s amazing that Julian was able to knock Red to the ground when Red hasn’t done that to Julian yet. I’m sure it’ll score him huge points.
Thirty seconds left and they are both giving it all they’ve got. When the bell goes off, they are both very reluctant to stop. In fact, Mr. Pfizer has to get between them and forcefully tell them that the match is over. But Red is staring at Julian like he’d like to beat his brains out and Julian looks like he’d like to still be standing over a knocked out Red.
They finally retreat to their corners after threatening each other using only their eyes and we all wait impatiently for the scores to be announced. I tell Julian how amazing he was, and how I can’t believe he knocked Red down and all that. But I stop when I hear someone start to chant “Ju-li-an! Ju-li-an!”
Others start joining into the chant and Julian has the decency to look humble and proud at the same time. The three judges, with their heads bent towards each other, keep looking around the gym. They look like they’re arguing with each other and a moment later, I find out why.
The head judge comes up to the centre of the ring with a mic in hand. He waits while the chanting dies down and then says, “This year’s boxing champion is…Red Jackson.”
He doesn’t sound enthusiastic and at first there is no sound except for a few gasps as Red scoots back into the ring with a smug grin on his face. The grin quickly disappears when people start to shift uncomfortably, and a few others give some polite applause. Red takes his belt, looking angry that no one cares that he won.
Then someone—who sounds very much like Cherry—shouts, “Julian for people’s choice!”
The judge clears his throat. “There’s no…people’s choice. This is a high school competition.”
“Peo-ple’s choice!” And the chanting starts all over again.
Julian ducks his head, but I can see the smile spreading across his face. I slap Julian’s back with a laugh and he laughs too because what else is there to do?
The judge sighs and then motions to Red. “Your champion everyone.” Again, he says it with all the enthusiasm of announcing that he’s getting a root canal.
Red rolls his eyes as everyone continues chanting “People’s choice!” Then he surprises everyone by motioning Julian into the ring with him. Julian looks stunned but he climbs through the ropes, inc
iting even louder cheering. I almost think Red is up to something, but then he begrudgingly holds out a hand which Julian shakes.
Red shakes his head and leaves the ring. Julian takes one look around, raises his fists in a victory that he hasn’t technically won, and is ushered out of the ring by Mr. Pfizer.
“Julian, you are too cool,” I say to him.
Jules laughs and then closes his eyes, looking like he could fall asleep standing on the spot.
Dan says to me, “Hey, you need to get back to the locker room. You still have your own match coming up, you know.”
Crap. I still have to fight
CHAPTER twenty-three
When they set up the matches, I’d been hoping that maybe they’d set me up with Emily or even Marissa, because I think they would have been a little easy on me. But no—they set me up with Denny. As nice as she can be sometimes, she’s a fierce competitor. And now that I’m seeing her on game day, I know she’s going to take me down the first chance she gets.
Denny always makes the first move, so as soon as the bell rings I get my arms up in a defensive position. I know it makes me sound like a wimp, but I’m more afraid of her hurting me than losing this match. As I predicted, Denny takes the first swing, but she only hits my glove, since I haven’t moved them out of my face yet.
She tries a couple more times to goad me into doing something other than just waiting for her. I try once to knock a good right cross to her head, but she ducks easily and hits me in the side where I left a wide-open gap.
“Come on, Elli!” Dan yells from my corner. “You’re better than that. Get moving!”
I can feel my face heat up from the embarrassment of being called out by my coach. But I don’t want to let him down, so I channel my inner Julian and get my butt in gear. I start to do a little better, even getting a few good hits and blocks in.
I don’t have much of an advantage over Denny, but the first two rounds fly by without much incident. I think I might even be able to win until we get to the third round. I try to remind myself that it’s only three minutes, but I’m so tired now. On top of that, I think Denny just realized that I’m better than she originally thought because she has suddenly stepped up her game.
I try to keep up but there’s no way I could have seen the uppercut coming. I feel myself fall backwards, I hear my uncle’s disembodied voice telling me to get up, I hear Mr. Pfizer counting, but I can’t move. I’m stunned and my neck hurts and there’s no way. As soon as he gets to ten, Denny kneels down next to me, yanking off her helmet.
“Elli!” she shouts in my face. “I’m so sorry, are you okay?”
It takes me a minute to focus on her face, and then I say, “You knocked me out.”
She nods a lot while Dan and my cutman—the guy who looks after bruises, swelling, and cuts during the matches—rush into the ring. “I know. I’m so sorry. I’ve never done that before.”
I start laughing as the cutman removes my helmet and examines my face. Denny gives me a look like I’m crazy so I explain, “You deserved to win that. Don’t worry, I’m not hurt.”
Denny still looks unsure, so I push away the cutman’s hands and get up on my own. I only sway a little, but then I offer Denny my hand and she shakes it with a huge grin as people cheer for her victory.
***
That night, my parents take me and Dan out for dinner. It’s a little awkward, but not as bad as I thought it would be. They’re trying to get along—whether for my sake or their own, it doesn’t really matter. I’m just glad to have my family together for at least one night, celebrating how much of a champ I was for taking that knockout so coolly.
That’s literally what my dad has been telling anyone who will listen. How cool I was when I got knocked out. It would probably make me laugh if only I hadn’t be left with a black eye. Oh well.
At least I have a good excuse for skipping out on the dance tonight. Yeah, you read that right. I’ve been planning on not going for about a week now. I know—I had a really awesome group of friends to go with and a great date, but this is a bigger picture kind of thing. See I told Julian and Cherry to meet me there…
Which, of course, they won’t. Because I won’t be there. But they will be. And maybe they’ll get over whatever happened in the past and even start being friends again.
I tell my parents that I kind of don’t feel well as a precursor to me later on telling them that I might not go to the dance. They’re only half paying attention—although my mom did mention that I had that beautiful dress—because they’re being all…flirty with each other? I don’t know, it’s kind of weird. Anyway, I tell my mom I can wear the dress to the next school dance.
She kind of nods and then whispers something in my dad’s ear. He blushes (I’ve never seen that happen) and then kind of chuckles. I exchange a what-is-going-on look with my uncle who asks me very pointedly if I would like him to take me home since I’m not feeling well. I agree and we hastily exit without my parents taking much notice.
“Ugh, thank you for saving me from that,” Dan says as soon as we’re both in his clunker of a car.
I laugh. “I don’t remember the last time I saw them like that.”
Dan is quiet for a few minutes and then he says to me, “I’m really proud of you, Elli.”
“Thanks,” I say softly. I’m sure he’s saying it just to be nice.
“No, I mean it,” he says as if he’s reading my mind. Or maybe I spoke out loud again. “Not like your dad. He’s obligated to feel proud of you. But me—I got to teach you, I got to coach you. And you were amazing! And on top of that, you were great with Julian. I really don’t think he could have done so well without you there.”
“Thank you, Uncle Dan,” I say. I don’t know how to say how much his words mean to me. It’s like I also feel proud of me, and Julian, and Dan, and it’s just too much emotion for one sentence. Instead, I ask, “How are things going…like with Liz and stuff?”
I’m sure Dan can see right through my thinly veiled question. He doesn’t say anything as he parks the car at my house. Then he turns to me and says, “I’m an alcoholic, Elli. But I’m trying.”
“Good,” I say. “I’m glad. I’m sorry that I…” Caught him being an alcoholic? I can’t even finish the sentence.
“No, I’m sorry,” he says. He pats my cheek, glances at my black eye, and adds, “You can still go to the dance if you want. It’s not that bad.”
“Oh that!” I laugh, touching my sore eye. “No, it’s not that. I’m kind of proud of it, actually. But really…I can’t go tonight. It’s complicated, but it’s for the best. Trust me.”
Dan just shakes his head with a wry smile. I go inside and exhale with relief. The fight is over and I never have to box again if I don’t want to. My friends are going to find each other at the dance tonight. My parents are happy, at least for right now. Dan is…well, still Dan, but less pickled.
I do feel badly for Adrian though. I decide to text him to let him know that I won’t be at the dance. I didn’t get much of a chance to talk to him after the fight and I hope he’ll understand. I’m a little disappointed that he never texts me back, but maybe he’s too busy preparing for the dance that he doesn’t even know I texted him. Oh well, I’ll have to deal with it later.
I’m having a wonderful nap in the bath when I wake up to loud banging. It’s my dad, saying something about a boy or something. I’m half asleep—and freezing, I might add. How long was I asleep?
“What did you say, Dad?” I ask after putting on a robe and opening the door.
“There’s a boy at the door for you,” he says, a mischievous look in his eyes.
“A boy! What boy?” I say, dreading that Julian has come to give me a piece of his mind for ditching him at the dance with Cherry.
“Well, it’s not Julian,” Dad drawls with amusement. Good grief, what are he and my mother up to lately? Nevermind. I do not want to know the answer to that question.
“Okay…” I say slowly. I go
to my room and quickly throw on sweat pants and a t-shirt, a decision I immediately regret when I go downstairs and see Adrian all dressed up in a suit.
He smiles at me. My insides turn to mush.
“Adrian,” I say dumbly. “You’re not at the dance.”
His smile grows. “And neither are you. What’s up?”
I look down at my ramshackle appearance and heat rushes to my face. “I told you that I wasn’t—”
“Feeling well. Uh huh,” he says like he totally does not believe it at all. “I know what you’re up to.”
“You do?” I ask. “And what is that?”
He looks me up and down, giving me a look that says he still thinks I’m pretty in this get-up and says, “Tell you what—since I’m already dressed up, why don’t you go out with me tonight?” He sees me hesitate and adds, “Or do you not want to know what you missed at the dance?”
Okay, he’s got me there. And judging by the smug look on his face, he knows it, too. I’m about to go find my parents to tell them I’m going out after all when I discover them lurking around the corner, listening to every word.
“Umm… Mom, Dad, this is Adrian,” I say, pointing to my very well-dressed almost-boyfriend.
“Nice to meet you,” Adrian says confidently, extending his hand out to my dad and then my mom. He’s so proper.
“Well, Elli, you’re not going out like that, are you?” Mom says meaningfully.
“Give me two minutes,” I say to Adrian.
I rush upstairs, shimmy into the coral blue dress, throw my hair up in a way that says, “I care, but not that much,” and then apply make-up as carefully and quickly as I can. It’s been five minutes, but I’m sure Adrian didn’t take that literally.
Right?
I come back down and Adrian gives me another once-over, this one clearly indicating that he thinks I’m very pretty. At least, I hope that’s what it means.