The Knockout

by Sajni Patel

  “Don’t worry, beta,” he’d said when we had to sell our two-story, four-bedroom house and half the furniture two years ago, after the first five years of endless renal disease relapses sucked money out of the bank, on top of endless doctor visits, hospitalizations, tests, and medications. “We don’t need such a big place for the three of us, and you’ll be off to college in a few years and what will we be? Ghosts haunting a giant house all alone?”

  I didn’t care about the material things then. Not even when Mama decided to sell off a bunch of clothes and jewelry.

  “It’s fine,” Mama had said with teary eyes as she stroked her necklace and gold bangles. “They’re just things.”

  I had surprised both parents when I furrowed my brows, started up the computer, and replied, “Leave the selling to me. I’ll research the best places that’ll give us the biggest bucks.”

  The only reason I continued with Muay Thai with all its expenses was because a few local places were willing to sponsor me. When I couldn’t buy anything during shopping trips with friends or eat out with teammates and go on club field trips, I rammed all my focus into three things: family, grades, and Muay Thai. Nothing else mattered.

  Muay Thai was my passion and a release. I didn’t know what I’d do without it. How many extra hours would I have to fret over my parents? I’d considered giving it up to work, but they wouldn’t let me. Now, it could pay off in big, monetary ways.

  Except there was a price tag attached to this invitation. My sponsors would only go so far. Maybe Coach would help. But what then? Spend a few grand in hopes of getting fifty in return?

  Wow. What would fifty grand get us? Probably pay off some of Papa’s debts. Catch up on bills, set some money aside for future bills, and oh yeah, this thing called college because there was no way I could help support myself and an ailing father with a minimum-wage job for the rest of my life.

  Even before I put the phone away, Coach texted.

  Did you get my email?

  I giggled. Yeah, Coach! I got it! Can we chat about it after school?

  Sure thing, kiddo. I can swing by and we can talk with your parents.

  Sounds good. Let me ask them first and I’ll let you know.

  Then he shot a shaka emoji—Coach was Hawaiian. All right, so we could discuss the chances of me winning, the price tag of actually attending, and if everything fell into place, the rigorous training.

  There went the weekend pizza sleepover with Lily. And tutoring Amit? Well, he could find an online tutor probably.

  My next thought automatically turned to Rayna. I almost texted her the news, but my fingers hovered over the screen.

  I bet she’d be ecstatic for me, despite what had happened. She knew what this meant.

  My heart sort of plummeted into my stomach for a minute. It sucked really hard when one of the few people who knew about and excitedly accepted my passion didn’t want to be my friend anymore.

  -

  Amit texted right after the final bell at the end of the day, before I had even reached my locker, before I had a chance to find Lily and tell her the good news in person.

  When do you want to study? I can’t tonight, maybe Thursday for an hour right after school?

  I twisted my lips. For a guy who had a lot riding on this, he sure wasn’t making the best effort. I’d think he’d want to study every night for as long as it took for him to get back to the top. Amy Smith and Daniel Ng were on his tail in this running, and they were freaking cutthroat.

  But Amit bailing worked out for tonight anyway, and I was glad not to be the first to break our commitment.

  Thurs right after school in the library.

  Okay. Thanks!

  NP. See ya then. TTYL

  “Texting your boyfriend?” Lily sang as she slid into place against a locker, her side pressed to the cold metal surface.

  “Which one?” I winked and she laughed.

  “You look glowy. What’s up?”

  “I can’t even!” I beamed.

  “What? What!” She bounced up and down. “God, what happened that you’re so excited?”

  “Shh!” I took her hand to stop her jumping but found myself wanting to bounce too. “Don’t tell a soul, okay?”

  “Promise.” She pretended to zip her lips.

  “I just got invited to the Muay Thai Open.” Then I slapped a hand over my mouth as if I’d just let out the world’s biggest secret since smartphone tech, my eyes wide and glistening with unadulterated joy.

  “Oh, my lord!” Lily threw her arms around me for a giant bear hug, which didn’t go unnoticed by some. Some nosy bodies.

  “Remember, don’t tell a soul.”

  “When do you leave? When is it? Can you have cheerleaders? Screw this cheerleading team; even if I didn’t make it freshman year, I totally rock as a cheerleader. I can make black shirts with hot pink skulls to match your badassery.”

  “I freaking love it! Okay. Calm down. I don’t know the details yet. I don’t even know if my parents will let me go, or how much it’ll cost. I haven’t told them yet, haven’t told anyone.”

  “Well, you have to go. You’ve trained your entire life for this.”

  “I know. I know.” I hugged my arms around my waist as tumultuous adrenaline coursed through me, like slowly easing backward on a roller-coaster and then dropping straight down at full speed. It was a dizzying, wonderful, infectious rapture mixed with unbridled fear.

  “Whoa, what’s going on? You okay?” Lily reached for my arm.

  “Yeah. Just so much. It’s a dream, a huge life accomplish-ment. Oh, man. What if I fail? What if I can’t stand one round with national girls? What if I get knocked out so hard, my brain goes kasplunk and I’m a walking dead zombie forever and ever?”

  Lily’s grip tightened in a reassuring way. She anchored my worries to the ground, but I could feel them taking me higher and higher. “Girl, chill. I’ve never seen you get worked up. Let it sink in, enjoy the moment. Talk to your parents and let me know what happens. I will be by your side one hundred percent, okay?”

  “K.”

  “Breathe.”

  “Yeah. I’m breathing.”

  Lily half waved at someone behind me, the someone who strolled by with her books hugged closely to her chest. Rayna.

  Rayna made my heart ache. The back of her glorious, dark, hip-length hair swayed past and she didn’t even say hi. I wanted so badly to tell her about the Open. She’d probably pull out a congratulatory cupcake from her locker, the flavor of the month from her dad’s bakery, with pink sprinkles of course. She always saved the glittery ones for me. Or, at least she used to. She’d most likely force me to do that shoulder Bhangra-style dance right here in the middle of the student body and shout, “Hands up!” People wouldn’t know what the heck was going on, but they’d join in anyway, and we’d have a party on our hands in zero-to-sixty.

  “Don’t worry about her,” Lily muttered.

  “Have you talked to her recently? Is she still mad at me?”

  “We haven’t been real friends since all that went down, but we keep it friendly enough. I’d rather not talk to her, cuz I might lose my crap, but if you want, I can casually bring it up. But don’t let her and that dumb stuff get you down.”

  “It’s hard to see her and not feel depressed again.”

  “I know, I know, but you’ve got bigger, better things happening. What happened between you and Dev was last winter. I mean, seriously, she even told you to talk with Dev, that she was way over him. What are you supposed to do? Never talk to a boy that your friends have ever crushed on? That’s not realistic. I mean, who haven’t your friends crushed on? And as amazing as you think Rayna is, if she doesn’t want to be your friend anymore, then that’s on her. Give me a break. Treating you this way for a whole two months for trying to talk to a boy who she wasn’t even
dating, and who she gave you the green light to talk to? It’s all her loss.”

  “And mine.” Just thinking about the implosion of our friendship made my stomach tie into queasy knots. All I wanted was to crawl into myself and pretend none of this had happened.

  “Hers,” Lily reiterated before I tumbled down a rabbit hole of how perfect and lovable Rayna was. Uh, why did I try to talk with Dev in the first place? I should’ve known better. I really did miss Rayna, one of my closest friends, and seemingly the only Indian who didn’t turn up their nose in disgust or quiet judgment at my extracurricular pursuits.

  I shook it off and stretched my neck from one side to the other, eyes closed in meditation. Shake off the haters. Shake off the negativity.

  -

  When I arrived home, my parents were in the living room watching one of their prime-time dramas. Two mugs of chai steamed on the coffee table beside a plate of biscuits from the Indian grocery store. My mouth watered at the sight. Parle-G were my fave, rich and buttery and oh-so sweet . . . but nah, I had to train hard now. That was, if the parental units even let me go.

  I took in a few deep, calming breaths. I seemed to be doing a lot of that these days. After taking off my shoes in the foyer and setting my backpack down, I trotted to the living room, leaned down, and kissed both of them on the cheek.

  “Well, you seem to be in a delightful mood,” Papa said. He looked better, and hope swelled inside me. His eyes and cheeks weren’t as hollow, and some color had returned to his face. He looked rested.

  I sat on the edge of the couch, my fingers laced on my lap. “First of all, I want to thank you for letting me pursue Muay Thai.”

  Mama rolled her eyes. “Eck minute, beta. Are you starting this whole working a job instead of Muay Thai nonsense again?”

  “Um, no. I am thanking you for letting me do this. I know it’s unconventional and expensive.”

  Papa tsked. “Don’t mention money or budget to us, beta. We want you to enjoy life, you know? And nothing brings such happiness to your eyes as Muay Thai. Except maybe chocolate cake and fried pickles.”

  I grinned sheepishly. Fried anything tasted really good. My smile faded, replaced by seriousness. “I appreciate everything you’ve given me, and also how you keep some of your struggles to yourself because yeah, I’m a kid. But I’m older now, and you can be frank with me.”

  “We appreciate this.”

  “Okay. Well, you know how I applied to USMTO and I’ve been winning all of my fights this year?”

  They nodded, pride in their smiles. Yeah, they’d let me apply to USMTO, but we didn’t expect anything to come of it. I surely didn’t.

  “Coach just told me that I qualify for the national level.”

  Mama clapped her hands together. “That’s amazing news!”

  Papa laughed and gently applauded, then pointed a finger up like his hand was chanting “We’re number one! Way to go, beta! I knew the first moment you tried on gloves that you would be exceptional.”

  “Coach wants to come by and talk to you about me possibly going.”

  “Possibly?” Papa asked. “Why not definitely?”

  I bit my tongue to keep from mentioning the budget. I had no idea of the costs. “Something can always come up. Anyway, he wants to talk to all of us. Is that okay? Can he come tomorrow after practice?”

  “We’d love to talk to him, catch up, find out what to expect. This is so thrilling. Do you know that some cousins have played sports in high school, like wrestling or softball? But they were average. They only played to boost their college applications. No one has had your kind of talent.”

  My cheeks warmed. Being complimented as anything other than ordinary compared to my über-successful cousins made me feel more Indian somehow. “They’ve very prestigious careers, though. That has nothing to do with a random sport they played in school.”

  “True. However, they studied very hard and tried even harder to get to where they are. And so have you. No one in our family, in our social circle, can say their daughter is a national-level athlete. And she’s smart and beautiful on top of that? No contest.”

  “Papa . . .” I rolled my eyes but smiled.

  “It’s true! And whatever you decide to pursue in college will only enhance your accomplishments. What did everyone else do by senior year? They were in the top ten percent, right? So what? That’s nothing. You’re in the top ten percent! And you’ve excelled in something as hard and rigorous as Muay Thai.” He waved off the cousins. “You’ve surpassed them.”

  “Thank you, Papa. That means so much to me. I know others don’t like it—”

  “Forget the others,” Mama spat. “Do you mean other Indians?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Who are they, anyway? They can keep their unsolicited opinions to themselves.”

  Papa rubbed her shoulder to calm her down. Mama was a fierce tiger. Whatever had happened in the past that led her to walk away from the Indian social circle was something she wouldn’t talk about in depth. I knew some basic stuff, like her pregnancy and dropping out of med school. But it seemed there was more, and as my elder, she didn’t get that deep with me. It was the reason my parents didn’t press me to go to mandir and festivities and get knee-deep involved with the Indian community.

  “You are our daughter,” Mama continued, “and we’re proud of everything you’ve done. Can your coach come over today? Why wait?”

  “Let me text him!” I sent out a quick text to Coach, who agreed to drop by in an hour.

  I’m beyond excited for you, Kareena!

  Thanks, Coach! You’re behind this success too! But how much will it cost?

  That was the burning question hot on the tip of my tongue when he finally arrived. He’d never texted me back.

  I let Coach in the minute he rang the doorbell. Couldn’t help but to pace the foyer in hopes of catching him first about expenses, but my parents were on my heels, and eagerly invited him to join them in the living room. There was, of course, a cup of hot chai waiting for him.

  “Cost of admission into USMTO itself is less than a hundred dollars, which is not bad,” Coach began as he sipped his drink on the end of the couch closest to Papa and his recliner.

  My father leaned forward with keen interest, and I curled into myself to bear the brunt of disappointment.

  “Cost of spectator admission is about forty dollars a person. The event is four days, but we want to get there at least one day early and check out one day later, so figure at least six days, seven preferably. Food for those days, plus transportation, which is airfare and cab rides.”

  Papa nodded, but I twitched as I did the math in my head.

  “Kareena will have to get blood tests done. And, not to sound superficial, but this is a huge event and we want to look our best, plus all of her gear and clothing need approval from the Open. She’ll need new Muay Thai shorts, a few high-quality tank tops, new gloves for training, shin guards, elbow pads, and helmet.”

  Crap. Crap. Crap. I needed everything new because all of my stuff was worn the heck down. I wasn’t technically allowed to keep using some of my equipment as run down and wretched as it was.

  “We’re looking at nearly three grand to be safe.”

  I sank into my seat with a heaviness in my bones. That was . . . a lot. Maybe to some people it wasn’t much, or maybe some parents could come up with the cash. But not us. And three grand was just for me. Plane tickets and admission for my parents and their food would be extra.

  “It would be less except, well, as you know, Kareena hasn’t kept up with replacing her equipment. It wouldn’t be within regulations at USMTO, and she would be disqualified from fighting. Also, I highly encourage her to start seeing a chiropractor and getting regular deep-tissue massages. That’s an additional few hundred a week.”

  Papa let out a long sigh and I barricaded my
hopes. Three grand in five weeks. My parents didn’t have that kind of money. Coach couldn’t front that. My sponsors and teammates might offer a few hundred, but that was being very optimistic.

  “However,” Coach continued, “here’s the thing. There is a substantial reward at the end.” Now he scooted to the edge of his seat, leaned his elbows on his thighs just as Papa had. They were eye to eye and an explosive excitement wriggled off of him. He couldn’t stop grinning and kept tapping his fingers together.

  “Yes, there is a cash prize that will help Kareena out in many ways, but the best fighters at USMTO gain the recognition of the IFMA.”

  Dizziness hit hard. IF-freaking-MA? Holy crap. That was something I’d known about for years, but never in my wildest dreams had I thought it was a real, obtainable possibility to get noticed by them! Was I about to faint? I thought I just might!

  Coach could tell from Mama’s puzzled gaze that he had to clarify. “IFMA is the International Federation of Muaythai Associations. They’re the governing body that determines the participating fighters for the US team in the World Championships.”

  Mama and Papa laughed wholeheartedly, startling me. They didn’t laugh as if this was the most outlandish joke ever played on them. They laughed like this was the best thing to ever tickle their funny bones, with tears sparkling in their eyes. They were proud.

  “Not only that, but there is serious talk of including Muay Thai in the next Olympics. And Kareena is so talented and skilled that I am unbiasedly telling you that your daughter has a realistic chance of getting on both teams.”

  “Holy crap!” I slapped a hand over my mouth, eyes wide behind my palm as my parents scowled. But their scowl was almost immediately replaced with earth-shattering grins.

  “Are you for real?” I asked, my words mumbled behind my hand.

  “Yes. As serious as the day I walked into this sport. I didn’t want to inflate your ego or get your hopes too high, but things are happening now, things that solidify my gut feeling about you. Kareena, you have to go; you have to do this.”