CHAPTER 4

  The crowd’s eruption.

  Her glow under the stadium lights.

  The way she barely breathed between rounds.

  She didn’t even bleed.

  When we train, I can’t pivot my foot right.

  My shins sting after a single kick.

  My punches hit like rich folks' pillows.

  I’m not a fighter.

  Not yet.

  Sometimes I don’t think I’ll ever be.

  But when I see Fon…

  It’s like she’s pushing me forward.

  If I can’t fight, then I can’t make money.

  If I can’t make money, I can’t help my family.

  That should be enough for me to fight.

  For some reason, all that is background noise.

  I feel guilty about that.

  But the truth is much worse.

  I’m pushing myself for a far more pitiful reason.

  Every time she yells “Kick!” I still see her under the stadium lights.

  “Lek, you have to pivot on your front foot!”

  I kick.

  “Pivot more!”

  “Okay, I am trying!” I wish she would quit yelling.

  DING. DING.

  The timer goes off.

  I can’t see past the sweat in my eyes.

  My shins ache. My shoulders burn from guarding my face.

  The gloves are hot, and I want to quit.

  I take a sip of water when Fon interrupts.

  “You’re not bad at hitting pads for a newbie.”

  I glance up at Fon, who’s sliding her dynamite fists into her gloves.

  “The thing is… pads don’t hit back.”

  She playfully winks.

  I swallow hard. I have to spar her again?

  Before I can register it, the timer dings again.

  She glances over.

  “Rest is over.”

  “Now hit me.”

  She puts her hands up for a moment.

  I notice her lips curl slightly.

  Then she drops her hands completely, placing them behind her back.

  She sticks her head toward me.

  “Now hit me.”

  Is she crazy?

  “Or should I say, hit me if you can?”

  She sticks out her tongue.

  It’s like she gets a thrill out of mocking me.

  How am I supposed to hit a girl who’s not trying?

  This is more humiliating than when she beat me up in front of everyone.

  But the beating will happen again, if I land another lucky strike.

  So I better be careful.

  I’m outclassed here.

  She rolls her eyes.

  “I said I’d train you. So, put some effort in.”

  The punches from our greeting replay in my head.

  But I throw another anyway.

  Just like we went over on the pads.

  She moves her head away each time, dancing around me with grace.

  There’s no way I can touch her.

  She knows every move I make.

  Like she's reading my mind.

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  I feel people staring.

  It’s like their eyes have teeth, and they're slowly biting into me.

  It hurts. But, I don’t see a way out.

  “Don’t tell me the punch before was beginner's luck?”

  She’s mocking me now.

  The fun is suddenly drained from Fon’s sly grin.

  “Wait… you’re holding back?” she says, sliding out of the way effortlessly.

  “But why?”

  “I’m not holding back!”

  I admit my reply doesn’t need to be this defensive.

  I step into a kick like we practiced.

  Pivoting my foot. Turning my hip.

  Her gloves shoot out from behind her back and grab my leg before I can land.

  Like a wall I can’t break.

  She catches my leg, and steps to the side.

  My leg is trapped in between her elbow and her body.

  With my leg caught, she glares into my eyes.

  This can’t be good.

  “Is it because I’m a girl? You’re embarrassed?”

  She sounds serious.

  “No, it’s not like that!” I yell, my fear shaking my voice.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  She kicks my leg out from underneath me, sweeping me onto my back.

  What have I done?

  Does she hate me?

  I couldn’t help but notice my Uncle nearby.

  Classic Uncle, smoking a cigarette while speaking to another fighter.

  “He’s afraid to poke the bear…”

  What the hell do they know?

  Unbelievable.

  “Back to your feet.” Fon says.

  I feel her disappointment.

  I stand back up and fire another kick.

  It’s caught again, like a bug in a spiderweb.

  “Why are you holding back?”

  “I’m not!”

  “Come on, Lek!”

  I drop my guard.

  Not my hands.

  The fear.

  I kick again.

  I knew it.

  Her hands are low when she catches. Like every kick before.

  But this time, she doesn’t see it coming.

  For a split-second, fighting makes sense.

  My right hand lines up perfectly…

  But she’s strong… like a deity.

  What if I fail?

  My cross lands clean on her chin.

  The crack snaps through the gym.

  Fon blinks from the impact, then immediately squares up again.

  Is she angry?

  Please don’t be mad.

  A stream of blood leaks down her lip.

  OH NO.

  I might actually die now.

  Then, Fon smiles.

  My stomach tightens.

  I’m too young to die.

  The other kids stop hitting the bags.

  Someone whistles.

  Uncle, probably.

  I brace myself.

  Fon wipes the corner of her mouth with her glove.

  Her eyes catch the blood.

  They sparkle.

  Then she looks back at me.

  Smiling.

  A beautiful smile.

  She is actually proud of me.