by Laura Shovan
Isaiah’s mom stops setting the clock. “Forfeit on what grounds?” she asks.
“There’s no rule that he has to give a reason,” Dr. Spence barks in his tight voice. “I would know if there was.”
All the adults crowd around the table: Coach Billy, Dr. Spence, and the ref. I see my father making his way over there too, but Coach Billy waves him off.
I wish someone would tell me what’s going on. Are they going to make Nick wrestle? I need to stay warm, so I take a few shots and try to block out all the voices. But I hear Coach Billy tell Nick, “You’re in the consolation bracket already. If you forfeit, you’re out.”
“Don’t speak to my son,” Dr. Spence says. “He does not have to wrestle a female if he doesn’t want to.”
While they argue, Nick runs over to his sister. He pops off his headgear and puts it on her head. The way she smiles at him reminds me of me and Evan, when I was little.
I try to catch Coach Billy’s attention. I want to tell him Nick can forfeit if he wants, as long as I get a win and move up in the bracket. But Lev finds me first.
“Don’t let ’em mess with you,” he says. His cheeks are flushed. He takes my arm and walks me over to Coach. Lev stands tall, with his shoulders back. He taps Coach Billy on the shoulder.
“Spence hasn’t wrestled Mickey all season,” Lev says. “He forfeited matches and cut weight so he wouldn’t have to wrestle her.”
“Lev, stay out of it,” Coach says.
Lev ignores him and turns to the ref. “Why should he be allowed to forfeit? So what if she’s a girl?”
The ref shakes his head. “I can’t stop him from forfeiting a match, son.”
Dr. Spence stares at me, arms folded. In the stands, I hear people grumbling. Dad is talking to some of the Eagles parents he knows. They’re pointing at the mat. Some people are booing. I can’t tell who’s on my side and who’s with the Spences. I spot Josh and Isaiah talking nearby. I wish I could join them, but I can’t walk off the mat until the ref calls the match.
“Coach, say something,” Lev begs Coach Billy. “Do something. You can’t let them treat a Gladiator this way. Mickey works harder than anyone.”
I know Lev hates Nick Spence. I know he’s upset about Evan. He wants to do the right thing, but even the grown-ups don’t know what the right thing is. He should save his anger for the mat, but he won’t stop running his mouth.
“Tell the wrestling board to change the rules! Stand up to the Spences!” Lev shouts at Coach. “Why are you afraid of them?”
The voices in the stands are getting louder.
“I need to talk to my wrestler,” Coach Billy tells the ref. He pulls Lev off the mat and out of the gym.
There’s a small smile on Coach Spence’s face. Next to him, Nick’s sister covers her ears with both hands.
“Are we wrestling?” the ref says. He’s tapping his foot on the mat.
Nick shakes his head.
The ref meets me in the center of the mat and holds up my hand. I pop open my headgear, pull on my Gladiators hoodie and shorts. I want to talk to Josh and Isaiah, but instead, I end up chasing after my father. He stomps out of the gym, ranting about outdated rules. “I need some air. I’m going to the car to cool off,” he says.
That afternoon, I wrestle like a beast. I work my way up to third place in my weight class. My trophy may not have a girl on top, but I did it. I made it to the state wrestling tournament.
I can’t wait to tell Lev, but he texts me first.
I quit Gladiators.
I shiver and pull my jacket up over my head like a tent, so I can see his words glowing on the screen. I grip my phone tight and type. Why?
He doesn’t answer.
Thanks for sticking up for me, I write. There’s no reply.
This is the first time all season Abba and I have driven home in daylight. There’s a field in the distance full of giant windmills. They’re taller than trees, moving with the wind. Watching the blades spin helps my thoughts settle.
Coach reamed me out in the hallway this afternoon. He said I was disrespectful and made him look bad in front of the other coaches. He said if I was upset about Spence forfeiting, I should have talked to him privately. Instead, I caused all this “drama.”
Where has he been all season? The drama didn’t start with me.
I can still feel Coach’s hand clamped on my shoulder. “I’m angry now,” he said, “but we’ll work it out.”
“I don’t want to work it out. I don’t want to wrestle anymore.”
Coach Billy’s eyes were dark but not mean. “No, Lev. Number one, you’re a Gladiator. Number two, you can’t help Mickey if you quit.” He held me by both shoulders, so I couldn’t look away. “Middle school is the hardest age for wrestlers. You’re going to tournaments, competing against studs from states where wrestling’s practically a religion.”
He didn’t understand. Wrestling wasn’t fun today. Every time I stepped on the mat, I saw the guy from Glenmont High, his face covered in blood.
“Promise me you’ll hold out for high school,” Coach said. “You’ll be wrestling guys who are new to the sport, and you’ll be the stud.”
Coach didn’t look like Billy the Kid anymore. I saw frown lines on his face, a knot of muscle on his forehead.
“I don’t want to lose you, Lev. You’re a good kid, a good wrestler. You know that, right?”
But I don’t know it. Not anymore. My stupid plan to mess with Nick Spence, to beat him by helping Mickey, it backfired. Nick keeps finding ways to avoid wrestling her, and now she hates me. I was so mean to her this week. I acted like what happened with Evan was Mickey’s fault.
You think you’re better than everyone, Lev Sofer.
Abba keeps checking on me in the rearview mirror.
“Stop looking at me,” I say. I can’t wait until I’m old enough to sit in the front of the car. Thirteen. It’s a big year. I get to move up to the front seat, and I’ll be a bar mitzvah.
I wrap myself in the blanket Abba keeps in the backseat, fold my pillow behind my head, and dig out my notebook. I don’t feel like a vampire wrestler anymore. I don’t feel like anything.
I start a new poem.
Who am I
if I’m not
a Gladiator?
Who am I
without
this sport?
I don’t
even know.
It’s so
much
of who
I am.
I don’t
have anything
else.
Abba sends me to the shower when we get home. From the serious look he gives Mom, I know he’s going to tell her what happened. They ask me if I want to go out for dinner, as if it’s a special occasion.
“Let’s stay home,” I say.
I play with Grover as Mom and Abba make a salad. Dalia is at an indoor field hockey clinic. This is how it’s going to be two years from now, when she’s in college. Me, Mom, Abba, and Grover.
“How about a walk after dinner?” Abba asks. He points at Grover. “Just the guys.”
It’s one of those strange warm nights we get sometimes in the middle of winter. All I need is a hoodie, no coat. Grover woofs at the door while Abba clips on his leash.
“What happened today?” Abba asks.
“I don’t know. It felt like everything was crashing down on me.” The moon is big above the trees. I remember the owl I heard, that morning at the start of the season. Abba said it meant I would wrestle smart. He was wrong, for once.
Grover stops to sniff a tree and Abba waits in the light of a streetlamp. I stay in the tree’s shadow and stick my hand in the light, making shapes on the ground.
“What do you love about wrestling?�
�� Abba asks.
I shrug. “We don’t talk about that, even me and Josh and Isaiah. We brag about winning, but never about what it feels like when a kid’s pinned under you, kicking like he can’t breathe. We never talk about how hard it is to lose.” I walk along the edge of the shadow, one foot in front of the other, with my arms wide.
“You’ll be twelve this summer,” Abba is saying. “When you’re thirteen, you become a man. That’s our tradition.”
“Abba, you know the other night, when we sat at the table and ate soup and talked? I wish we weren’t so busy with sports. I wish we had more time like that, the four of us together.”
Abba nods. “Competition makes your sister happy. Your mother and I assumed the same was true for you. But you’re not your sister.”
Don’t my parents know how different Dalia and I are? Abba says when something is bothering me, he sees it on the mat. I can’t focus. Dalia is the opposite. It doesn’t matter if she has a fight with my mom or a big test, when it’s game time, all she thinks about is winning.
Abba pulls me close. “Mom and I value you much more as a person than as an athlete.”
“You’re not mad that I quit?”
“You stood up for your friend. I’m proud of you,” he says. “Whatever you decide about wrestling, Mom and I support you. We just want to make sure you’re thinking it through. Do you really want to quit? Or are you acting out of anger?”
This is Abba’s superpower. It’s not extreme strength, or speed, like the superheroes Bryan’s doing his mythology project on. Abba gets me to talk about difficult things, because he wants me to think about what’s right and what’s wrong.
“I’m still having that nightmare,” I tell him.
“Some people say it wasn’t an angel Jacob was wrestling, but himself.”
“Abba, what does that even mean?”
He grins and turns for home. “Do I look like a dream interpreter to you?”
“No. You look like Abba.”
“Good.”
When we pass the Hongs’ house, I ask if Grover and I can go visit Bryan. I ring the bell. Grover sniffs at empty flowerpots. A red-and-gold braid is looped over the door handle. It must be time for Chinese New Year.
Bryan opens the door. “Hi.”
Even though it’s January, he’s wearing shorts. His T-shirt is sweaty. The Hongs have one of those movable basketball stands. For someone who’s not interested in playing on a team, Bryan’s out here a lot. He leans down to pat Grover’s head. “Hi, fuzzbutt,” he says. Grover’s long tongue shoots out and covers Bryan’s hand with a lick. “Ugh. Slobbery.”
“Grover misses you.”
“It’s wrestling season. We’re both used to it.”
I kick the concrete step, to make myself say the words. “I quit Gladiators.”
“Why would you do that?” Bryan pushes his glasses up his nose. He grabs his basketball and comes outside. I tie Grover’s leash to the doorknob. He’s happy to lie down and take a rest after our walk.
Bryan and I take turns doing layups. “So what happened?”
“Too much drama. Also, I may have mouthed off to my coach.”
“That’s not good.” Bryan passes the ball to me. “Does this mean you’re free Friday night?”
“It means I’m free every night.”
“School social?”
“Yeah. Gotta have something to look forward to.” No more Gladiators. No more States. No more Josh, Isaiah, or Mickey.
By the time Bryan and I are done talking, we’ve got solid plans for the social.
It’s the strangest week of my life. When I’m at school, or if Bryan’s free, everything is great. Bryan, Emma, Marisa, and I get permission to eat lunch in the media center so we can work on our mythology projects. It’s still warm enough to play basketball or ride bikes after school. But after dinner, I don’t have anything to do. I get my homework done and delete texts from Mickey. I don’t know what to say to her, so I say nothing. I watch the History Channel, then go to bed early.
I don’t even want to open my wrestling notebook, because then I’ll have to ask myself who I am. The kid who writes poetry, who thinks it’s not worth it to fight? Or the athlete, working to show everyone that I’m the best because—win or lose—I tried my hardest. I’m still not sure. What I do know is I’m a better friend since I stopped wrestling, at least to Bryan and Emma.
I get to practice early on Monday night.
“Hey, Mickey.” Coach puts out a hand for me to slap. “State tournament! Way to be.” He squats down so we’re eye to eye. “I owe you an apology.”
“You do?”
He scrubs at his goatee. “I don’t tolerate disrespect from my wrestlers, but I thought about what Lev said. I should have dealt with the Spences a long time ago.”
I nod and rock back on my heels. Finally!
“I sent an email to the head of the county wrestling board,” Coach says. “We’ll start there, see what we can do.” He stands up and puts a hand flat on the top of my head. “The sport’s changing, Mickey. More girls want to give wrestling a try.”
“Yes, Coach.”
“So—how about the Girls’ Folkstyle Championship? It’s Saturday. Want to wrestle?”
I’ve heard about Maryland’s all-girls tournament, but I figured Coach wouldn’t go if I was the only Gladiator there.
“Really?” I can’t help it. I jump up and down like a kangaroo.
“I’ll talk to your parents,” Coach says. “The last state qualifier is Sunday, but you’re already in. You can wrestle Saturday, bring home a trophy—one with a girl, I bet—and take a rest day on Sunday. How’s that sound?”
“Awesome, Coach!”
“What was that all about?” Josh asks when we’re putting on our shoes.
Since we’re friends now, I don’t mind teasing him. “There’s a special tournament on Saturday. Invitation only, and Coach picked me to go.”
Isaiah gives me a fist bump, but Josh glares across the gym at his uncle. “How is that fair? He didn’t ask me.”
I let Josh’s face scrunch up in a frown before I hit him with the news. “That’s because it’s the state girls’ championship.”
“Is that a real thing?” Josh says. I shove him and he falls into Isaiah on purpose.
“You heard from Lev?” Isaiah asks, pushing Josh off him.
“He’s not answering my texts.”
“My mom took me to see him yesterday,” Isaiah says. “I’ve never been to his house before. He’s got this fat old beagle. Cute dog.”
“You saw Lev?” Josh asks. “My uncle was pretty upset. Did you hear the way Lev talked to him at the qualifier?”
“He didn’t mean to be rude,” I say. “He was standing up for me. No one else was willing to do that.” I turn to Isaiah. “Is he coming back?”
“My mom talked to his mom while I was there. His parents think he needs a break, is all. Maybe he’ll be back next week.”
“But what did Lev say?”
Isaiah looks down at his shoes. “He’s beat. Not just tired-beat, but up here.” He looks at me and touches his forehead. “You know how Coach always talks about killer instinct? It’s like Lev got the killer instinct knocked out of him.”
“But he’ll miss the last qualifier,” I say. “He needs to practice.”
“He’d better come back,” Josh says to me. “Otherwise I’m stuck with you for a partner.”
I go to shove him again, but Josh rolls out of my reach. Then he’s on his feet, hands up, ready to wrestle. I’m up too. We grapple until Coach blows the whistle to start practice.
I watch the door, but Lev doesn’t come.
Bryan and I decide to go classy for the social. The day after I quit, we talk our moms into taking us shopping for bow ties. Real ones, not clip-ons.
Bryan’s tie is black with musical notes. Mine is navy with paw prints. We watch a YouTube tutorial and practice tying each other’s ties.
After dinner that night, Mrs. Oliver and Isaiah stop by. I introduce Isaiah to Grover, and then we play video games in the basement while the parents drink tea and talk. He wants to know if I’m quitting for real, but I don’t have an answer.
“You know how Coach is,” Isaiah says. “The second he’s done yelling, he forgets what he was mad about.”
“It’s not about Coach. Wrestling’s not fun anymore, at least not at tournaments. I still like hanging out at practice with you and Josh and Mickey.”
“Fearsome Foursome,” Isaiah says, holding out his hand for a fist bump. “It’s not going to be the same without you. We need you to keep Josh in line.”
“Mickey can handle Josh.”
“It’s not the same.”
* * *
On Friday, we turn in our mythology projects. Mr. Van knows how stressed out our class has been. We play musical chairs for the rest of the period. Instead of music, Mr. Van recites Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven.” When his voice pauses, everyone dashes to get their butt in a chair.
Marisa is meeting us at the social, because it’s not a date, but Bryan and Emma come to my house to get ready. All our parents want to take pictures. Emma loves the bow tie idea so much, she’s wearing one too. It’s pink with black mustaches. Mrs. Hong and Mom gush about how cute the three of us look dressed up, even if we are wearing jeans and high-tops with our button-down shirts and ties. With the three of us back together, it almost feels like middle school never happened.
When we get to Meadowbrook, Marisa is in the art room. The tables are set up for card games: Uno, Pokémon, and Magic: The Gathering. Bryan pulls at my sleeve and whispers, “The girl of my dreams is playing Pokémon. I am on a non-date with Marisa Zamora and we are going to play Pokémon.”
I give him the side-eye. “This must be what nerd heaven looks like. See you later. We’re going to the gym.”
Emma and I challenge a couple of her chorus friends to a game of badminton. We ask Mr. Wilebsky to be the referee. “It’s good to see a smile on your face, Sofer,” he says.