• • •
Much to my own shock—and thrill—I made the finals. Boss said it hadn’t been fixed, either. I ranked twenty-three out of fifty. Devin King was ranked twelve. Kolmorgen was nine. Beth four. Some guy named Michaels was ranked first.
Guess who I was up against first thing Saturday morning?
Michaels not Beth. Close one.
Thankfully, today was a double elimination tournament, so I could afford to lose once. Michaels was fighting Devin King in ring three. I took my place on deck and watched more than I stretched.
Michaels was huge—a senior who was nineteen and weighted 205. He had longish blond hair that he wore in a ponytail. How had Beth beaten this beast two years ago? He didn’t seem to mind penalty points. He just scored more legal points to make up for them. Tony was refereeing the match, and Michaels was giving him a workout.
Just then Michaels kicked Devin in the head, knocking him out cold. The ref called a penalty. But even with the deduction, Michaels had won. Bess Schwarz helped Devin up, and I was glad to see he was okay. Forget beating this beast. I’d have to stay back and fight smart if I was going to live.
Boss helped Devin over to some guy, then came back to coach me. Tony called my name. Boss patted me on the back, and I walked out to the center of the mat. Tony had me and Michaels shake. With our thick gloves, our fingers barely touched, but it was all the contact I needed. The room grew unnaturally wide, Michaels’ head distorting like a pancake, as a glimpse took over my mind’s eye: Michaels and I fought in the far corner of the mat. I had the advantage, then Michaels kicked in my knee. Bone cracked. I howled and dropped to the mat.
“Hey, Moscow. You ready?” Tony snapped his fingers in front of my face.
I shook to my senses and stepped back. “I forfeit.”
Tony’s head jerked back. “Really?”
“You afraid?” Michaels asked, his face scrunched up in disgust.
I turned away and walked back to Boss Schwarz. My face was burning, but there was nothing I could do about that.
“What’s going on?” Boss asked.
“I forfeited.” I grabbed my backpack and started toward the bleachers. A forfeit would bump me into the loser’s bracket, but I was okay with that. I wasn’t okay with missing the rest of basketball season.
“I can see that, but why?” Boss asked.
“He was going to hurt my knee. Maybe break it.”
“Going to? What in blazes you talking about, boy?” Boss Schwarz ran around me so I was forced to face him. “Explain this to—”
Someone pushed me from behind, and I crashed into Boss’s chest.
“I’m talking to you, punk!”
I spun around.
Michaels glowered at me, his face flushed. “What’s your problem? You scared?”
Boss got between me and Michaels. “Back to your coach, or I’ll have you disqualified.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Michaels said, tossing his head and walking away.
I continued to the bleachers. Everyone was staring. I didn’t care. This was one glimpse I was thankful for. The last thing I needed was an injury right before basketball regionals. My team needed me.
I caught sight of Kimbal’s orange hair up at the top of the bleachers and waved. He just stared at me, his eyes wide. I’d explain later.
I sat down and waited for the tournament bracket on the wall to be updated. It took a while, and when it finally changed, I choked back a groan.
My next match would be against Beth. Figured.
I looked back to Kimbal, hoping to play it cool, not wanting my uncle to know how much this sucked, but he was gone. Crazy agents, anyway. Maybe he’d spotted the bad guys or something. I hoped so.
REPORT NUMBER: 10
REPORT TITLE: I Take a Tour of the Girl’s Locker Room
SUBMITTED BY: Agent-in-Training Spencer Garmond
LOCATION: Los Angeles District LCT Tournament, Westwood, California, USA
DATE AND TIME: Saturday, December 6, 10:02 a.m.
Beth of all people? I mean, come on. I’d hoped to not fight her at all. Frankly, I was surprised she’d ended up in the losers’ bracket. Kolmorgen had beaten her—probably with his clinch holds. Huh. I hadn’t lost to Kolmorgen by all that much.
Maybe I could beat her.
I looked across the red mat to where Beth sat on the floor. Mr. S was talking to her, but she was doing her quiet, relaxed thing, unlike me. I paced back and forth, freaking out. If I lost here, I was out of the overall. And I hadn’t seen anything to hint that any traitor was coming after me, unless Michaels was on someone’s payroll. I’d have to tell Prière to look into it.
Right now, I needed to calm down. Get through this match with Beth.
Boss Schwarz fell into the chair on my side of the ring. “You’re not going to forfeit again, are you?”
“You’re sitting with me?” I would have thought Boss would want to coach his former champ.
He waved his hand toward Beth. “She’ll be fine. Stopplecamp’s going to sit with her.”
“Think I’m going to lose?”
“With an attitude like that you already have. Snap out of it.” He clapped his hands inches from my face. Guess that’s where Beth had learned that. I jumped and stared into Boss’s pale blue eyes. “Think numbers, boy, that’s all. Numbers. She ain’t Beth, she’s your foe.”
Foe.
I stuck in my mouth piece and walked to the center of the mat where Foe was already waiting. I could do this. Like she’d said, I was stronger than her. I just had to be smarter than her too.
Tony made us shake, then he started the match.
I stepped back cautiously, spreading my feet to get my balance and bending my knees to keep it. Foe did the same. For a long moment we stood motionless, watching each other. The crowd cheered, picking their favorite and calling out my name or Beth’s.
I blocked it out, focusing only on my opponent.
Foe.
I came at her with a five-two combo. I liked going left, and it was her weakest defensive point. She blocked it and grabbed my arm. I clinched out of throw danger and leaned forward, hoping to break her balance and take her into mount. We both fell, but Foe popped right back to her feet. I slid onto my side, kicked a five into her gut, grabbed her ankle, and yanked.
She fell, but twisted before she hit the mat and rolled away. I jumped to my feet and crouched into defensive position again.
She sprang at me with a quick one-five-one to the face. I blocked, then sent a five to her stomach, but she darted around my right and I missed. A flash of panic shot through me, knowing my left side was exposed. Thankfully, Foe missed that opportunity and circled around me further.
I twisted back to find her, and she surprised me with a fierce two-blow to my right temple. I staggered back but managed to stay on my feet. Her jaunt around me not only resulted in a throbbing skull, but I lost my balance.
I would not lose it again.
Foe slid forward and fired. Five. Five. Three. One. Two. Five. One-five. One-five.
I blocked everything she had, but stumbled on the last combo. Foe took advantage by sweeping my legs out from under me. I dropped and rolled, but she anticipated my direction and slammed onto my back. I tried to wedge a knee under myself, hoping to roll out of her back-mount hold, but she had both my arms wrenched up my back.
Figs and jam!
My frustration puffed out in a noisy huff. I kept trying, but the time ran out and she still had me. The ref blew the whistle and Beth released me. I jumped up and stormed over to Boss Schwarz. She’d won the match twelve-eight.
Boss threw a towel at my chest. “You didn’t stay focused, did you?”
“I did!”
“No. First thing you threw was a five-two combo. You tailored that move for her.”
I wiped the soft white cotton over my face. “It’s her weakness.”
“And she’s yours. If you’re going to win, she’s got to be faceless to you.”
I sucked down a long swallow of water to avoid having to respond. I threw the towel in a heap at Boss Schwarz’s feet. What did he know? She was not my weakness.
“You can still win. You were doing fine, but she’s quicker than you. Don’t get caught too close or she’ll trap you. Now, who is she?”
“My foe.”
“Atta kid.”
Foe. Foe. Foe.
I stepped onto the mat for round two, shook Foe’s hand, and rocked back quickly into defensive position.
We faced each other. Foe took a slow step forward. I held steady. In a blur of motion, she jumped at me and sent a five-jab to my temple. I crossed my arms in an X block, spun to the side, and slashed a three at her ribs.
Contact.
“Yes,” I breathed aloud to myself.
The hit fueled me, and I came at her with an intricate sequence of moves—the best I had—as fast as I could pitch them out. I whirled from one position to another, but no matter how resourceful my attack, my opponent matched my strikes, blocking everything I sent her way.
Time to up things a bit.
I threw a snap punch/back fist combo, ducked to avoid her five-elbow strike, then snatched her wrist and threw her. She slammed into the mat two yards away and staggered to her feet.
I ran at her and launched a side kick. My foot struck her left hip, and she sagged to her knees. I slid in behind her on one knee and locked her in a bar choke.
My chin rested on her right shoulder, and I breathed hard into her ear. “Tap out, will you?”
“Never.” Her body tensed, and she struggled, testing my grip. But my choke was tight. I kept her there until the whistle blew.
I bounced over to my chair, thrilled that I’d won match two five to three. Granted, I was still behind by three and wouldn’t see the final scores until it was all over, but at least it felt like I had tied things up.
“Nice work,” Boss said. “You’re smart to stay off the ground. She can pin anything. Stay on your feet and you have a chance. Try and get some more clinch holds. Those can be easy points.”
Tell me about it.
The crowd cheered as Beth and I walked onto the mat for the final time. We shook and stepped into position.
Tony yelled, “Go!”
Beth gave me a shy smile, her dimples tucking in. “You think you can beat me, huh?” she asked, circling to the right. “Maybe you can.”
I turned to stay flush with her.
“Focus, Garmond!” Boss’s voice was nearly lost in the racket of the arena.
Foe. Opponent. Enemy.
She threw a five to my chest, then came close for a two-elbow to my temple. I dodged left and jammed my knee into her stomach. She sagged and growled like an angry cat.
I couldn’t help but smile.
She circled back with a four-side kick. I blocked her leg and kicked out her other ankle. She rolled through her breakfall and came back to her feet. I delivered a chop to her temple, but she blocked my follow up hook to her cheek. She plowed an eight-kick a little too close to a foul for my liking. I backed up to take a breath, but she came at me fast with a five-jab to the ribs. I blocked it and lobbed a two-five back.
Enslaved by the clock, we fought. Strike. Defend. Act. React. As my strength drained, Foe managed a five-punch to my ribs. The blow stung, and I sent one back, but she deflected it with ease. I stepped back again, wanting to breathe, refocus, think.
Again she pressed forward, backing me toward the end of the mat. She grinned, then came at me. Two. Five. Five. Two. One. I staggered, dazed, and felt her familiar grip on my forearm.
Uh-oh.
An easy hip throw sent me to the mat. I shook my head and blinked, but didn’t move fast enough. She kneeled on my back, but I managed to get my arms under myself before she could grab one. I could easily get free. She dug her knee into my back. I cringed as I worked my leg up to roll her.
“You’re doing good… Spencer,” she whispered in my ear. “I was wrong about you. Maybe we should go out.”
I pushed up to roll over and blinked. Was she serious?
The next thing I knew, she’d flipped me onto my back and pinned me in a front strangle, seconds before the whistle blew. I couldn’t believe it! The match was over. I’d lost. I knew I had.
Beth jumped up and walked away. I lay flat on the mat, staring at one of the big florescent lamps hanging from the high ceiling. Boss Schwarz’s outline appeared above me, black and spotted after I’d stared so long at the light.
Boss extended his hand. I reached for it and he hoisted me to my feet.
“You fought well.”
I spit my mouth guard into my hand. “She cheated.”
Boss narrowed his eyes. “How’s that?”
“She said—” But there was nothing in the rules that prohibited talking during the match. I’d let my guard down. I’d listened to what she’d said—been stupid enough to think she was being serious.
I stopped in front of my chair. I wanted to kick it, watch it fly across the floor. Instead I snagged my towel off the floor and walked away.
“Hey,” Boss Schwarz grabbed my shoulder. “Why don’t you sit? Take five?”
“I’m going to shower.”
“Sit.”
I fell onto the chair and stared at the floor while Boss checked me out.
“You feel okay?”
“Fine. Just want to shower.”
“Okay.” Boss slapped my cheek. “Go shower, then.”
I fled.
Gardener and Sasquatch followed me into the men’s locker room, but thankfully not the shower itself. They were both dressed as security guards, which allowed them to wear gun belts.
The locker room was like a giant capital E. The first leg was a row of stalls and urinals, the second, lockers, and the third, showers that led out to the pool. The spine was solid mirrors and sinks.
Once I’d washed away the humiliation of being tricked and beaten by a girl in front of five hundred people, I dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and headed back toward Gym One where the finals were being held. I was just about to sit beside Mr. S and Gabe in the bleachers when I heard the announcement.
“Kiplan Johnson to registration. Kiplan Johnson to the registration table, please.”
Kip? I looked at Gabe, but he was watching the match in ring three. So was Mr. S.
No one really knew Kip’s real name was Kiplan besides the teachers and coaches at school. He hated being called Kiplan.
Could this be it? A trap that only I’d fall for?
I unzipped my backpack and looked for my phone. No sign. I searched the bag two more times and couldn’t find my necklace either, though my wallet was there, filled with cash. Not a regular thief, then. I sighed. The only times that my backpack had been out of my sight was when I was in the rings or when I’d been in the shower.
He, she, they—whoever it was, the bad guys—were closing in.
“Lost something?” Mr. S asked.
Yes. My Precious was gone. Again. “Maybe.” I zipped my pack. “Be right back.” I walked out to the lobby. I kept my distance from the registration table, though, scanning the area for anyone familiar. The only person I recognized was Gardener, just stepping out of the door to Gym One, following me as usual. His slight limp made me think of the mysterious email I’d gotten about his knee replacement surgery, which made me think of my glimpse of Michaels taking me out. I could have been just like Gardner, limping around for the rest of my life.
I caught sight of Devin King, standing in front of the vending machines by the locker rooms. I walked up to him just as he pushed in a dollar bill.
“How’s the head?” I asked.
He blew out a noisy breath of air. “I hate that guy.” He made his selection and pulled out a Lemon-Lime Gatorade. “How you holding up? Saw that last match against Beth. I don’t know what she said to you, but it sure seemed to mess you over.”
“Yeah… She’s a piece of work. “Want to make ten bucks?”
; “If you want me to pull a prank on Watkins, you’re going to have to pay more than ten bucks. I don’t want to be on her bad side.”
“This has nothing to do with Beth. The registration desk paged my friend who’s not here. Go over there and say you’re him. See why they’re paging him.”
“Why?”
“My reasons are my own.” I dug out my wallet from my bag and pulled out two fives.
“Twenty bucks and you got a deal.”
“Fine.” I traded the fives for a twenty, but I didn’t give it to him. “First you do the job.”
“Okay.” Devin tucked his lanyard into the neckline of his shirt and walked over to the registration table. I looked around me again. No one but Gardener.
Devin made quick work of it and came back to me with a white envelope. “This better not get me in trouble.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I handed him the twenty and snatched the envelope. I ripped it open and pulled out a three by five card.
“Beware the gardener? Free for life servant?” Devin read over my shoulder.
I wanted to turn around and look at the gardener then, but I stayed put. Sure, he could be the traitor. But so could Freeforlifeservant. Why trust him just because he said he was a friend?
Without my phone and my necklace, I couldn’t afford to leave the building. I needed to stay where there were people. But I also needed this to end. I needed the traitor to make his move so the good guys could catch him and I could play basketball regionals in peace.
I opened my wallet and pulled out the two fives. “Do me one more favor?” I held out the money. “Go find Boss Schwarz and tell him I’m in the men’s locker room, and I’m in trouble.” If I could trust anyone, it was Boss.
Devin narrowed his eyes. “Why you in trouble?”
“I’m not now, but I might be. This is important, man. I’m not messing around. Boss knows about it. He’ll know what to do.”
“Okay. Keep your money, though. I got this.” Devin walked toward the gym.
Chokepoint Page 10