by Sarah Deming
Gravity hopped off the apron and went to change and wrap up. She pulled on her headgear and cup, slipped in the mouthpiece, and let Coach lace her into sparring gloves. She didn’t need to warm up for Boo Boo; he always took it easy on her.
When the bell rang, they trotted out and touched gloves, then he hung back and let her get her rhythm. Gravity took the first round to work on feints. She managed to sucker him twice, once with this stutter step D-Minus had taught her where you fake to the body and pop up to the head, and once with this really flashy move she got from watching vintage Sugar Ray Leonard. She couldn’t believe it landed.
Boo Boo laughed and took out his mouthpiece to say, “Yo, G, that was slick!”
D-Minus came up on the ring to give her water, and the way he grinned at her confirmed what she felt inside. She was peaking, getting things off on Boo Boo that she never had before. As the rounds went on, she worked on keeping her feet in good position to show Coach that she was taking his critique to heart. He said a real boxer didn’t need to stop and set but was always in position to punch. After five, Boca waved her out, and she saw that Genya was the next one in. His sister sat on the ring apron wrapping up while Kostya yelled at her in Ukrainian.
“Hi, Sveta.”
“Hey,” Svetlana said without looking up.
Kostya shook her hand a little too hard.
The tension between Gravity and Svetlana had intensified after the Boxing for Girls piece had come out. But Gravity had no regrets. What she had told Carmen was the truth: Svetlana never should have moved up to her weight.
Gravity headed to one of the heavy bags, where she pounded away steadily for six rounds. D-Minus took the double-end bag next to her and worked with furious speed. Coach rolled over to watch, keeping up a steady stream of instruction in his scratchy voice: “That’s it, baby. Jab the man. Jab. Now throw that right hand. Now right back on the jab.”
The way Coach said “jab” made you feel like you could cut someone, and the way he said “right hand” made you feel you could drop them. And when he called her baby, Gravity felt like nobody in the world could beat her.
After she was done, Gravity reluctantly pushed open the door to the girls’ room. Svetlana looked up from her locker and nodded. Her eyes looked red-rimmed from crying.
There were two lockers in there now. Gravity had shared Svetlana’s for about a year until, one day, Tray’s old locker had appeared next to it. Some people might have gotten creeped out by inheriting a dead kid’s locker, but Gravity didn’t mind. D’s big brother was a good spirit to have on her side. She left up all his stickers, and sometimes she touched the Dragon Ball Z one for luck. She did that now, before turning to Svetlana.
“You okay?”
Sveta sniffed. “Yeah.”
Sometimes Kostya was really hard on her and Genya. Or maybe it was some drama with Boo Boo. The two of them had been dating since the start of the school year, but Sveta didn’t talk to Gravity about that stuff anymore.
“You all packed for Spokane?” Gravity asked.
“Yeah.”
Svetlana pulled her jeans up over her hips, and Gravity noted the slight bulge above the waistband and the way her bra straps cut into the fat of her back. She wasn’t in elite competitive shape at 132.
Gravity changed quickly, keeping her eyes on the wall of fight posters. Gravity and Svetlana had slowly added to it in the last four years, supplementing the beefcake shots of Tyson with glossies of a shirtless Floyd Mayweather, Amir Khan in a tuxedo, and Sergio Martinez silhouetted against the sunset.
But Gravity’s favorite was the poster of Sacred Jones in front of Kronk Gym in Detroit. Sacred was probably the best female boxer in the world. She had won a gold medal in the London Olympics and would be at Trials in Spokane. She was built like a sprinter, with thick legs that gave her great punching power, but it was her mental strength that made her unbeatable. Gravity wanted to be teammates with her someday.
Gravity struggled to think of something else to say to Svetlana. The tiny room felt more claustrophobic than usual.
“I heard the casino out there has a really good buffet,” she said.
“Stop it.” Svetlana slammed her locker and turned to face Gravity. To her surprise, Gravity saw tears on her cheeks.
“Stop what?”
Svetlana sighed and pressed her hands to her temples. “Just stop it. Stop trying to pretend you’re my friend.”
Gravity felt her stomach lurch. “I am your friend.”
“You’re so arrogant sometimes.”
Gravity looked down at the floor. She wasn’t arrogant. She was just confident. There was a difference.
“Fuck! I have such a headache,” Svetlana said, plopping down on the milk crate and clutching her head in her hands.
Gravity pulled out a packet of Advil and offered it to her.
“Thanks.”
“Want me to go get you some PLASMAFuel?”
“Nah. I hate that shit.”
They both laughed, and everything felt okay between them. Then the tense silence descended again. It made Gravity sad.
“I’ll go get you some water.”
Svetlana hadn’t even talked to her about the weight change, had just shown up on the lightweight brackets at the Golden Gloves Nationals, a tournament she knew Gravity was skipping. It was a stupid move. She usually fought at 125 or 119, which meant she could have cut down to 112, the lightest of the women’s Olympic classes. It would have been hard, but she could have done it. Gravity would have helped her.
Now it was too late. She was going to get destroyed at Trials.
Gravity trotted out for water onto the gym floor, where Monster was in the large ring sparring a visiting heavyweight, a tall white man in a tank top that said “Italia.” Andre Vázquez, the PLASMAFuel rep, leaned against the ropes, eating gummy worms and offering inane advice. Andre was involved in Boo Boo’s management and always came sniffing around the gym in his flashy, too-tight business suits when one of Boo Boo’s pro fights was approaching. He was pushing up on Monster now too, hoping to turn him pro after the Olympics.
She watched the sparring for a moment, taking in the visiting Italian’s unusual style. He kept his left arm extended stiffly, as though he was holding a shield.
Kostya said, “European style. Very good. He win bronze in London.”
Gravity didn’t like the style, but it was effective. Monster was getting frustrated and kept swatting at the Italian’s lead glove like an angry bear.
Gravity trotted back into the girls’ room. She handed the water bottle to Svetlana, who pressed it to her temples.
“Thanks. Is Boo still sparring?”
“No, Kimani’s in there now with this Italian. He’s kinda getting schooled.” It seemed dumb to make Monster spar a stranger right before the Olympic Qualifiers.
Svetlana said, “That European style is confusing if you’re not used to it.”
“How do you beat it?”
Svetlana gestured with the water bottle. “Take control of the rhythm. You can’t let that lead hand distract you. They’re really the same as any other opponent.”
“Like southpaws!” Gravity said.
Svetlana gave her an odd look. “Yeah, I guess.”
Gravity remembered the exact moment when Svetlana’s left-handed stance had ceased to bother her. It’d happened the third time they sparred. Ever since, Gravity had been in control.
Svetlana knew so much about boxing. Kostya had been taking her and Genya to the gym since they were toddlers. Gravity was always trying to make up for lost time by watching classic fights on YouTube and reading books on training. Still, knowing and doing were very different things. Gravity sometimes imagined that everything she knew about boxing was a big iceberg, and everything she could execute was the tiny bit that peeked out of the water. Too ma
ny people focused on knowing more, building up the huge, sunken part of their game that no one ever saw. It was much better to focus on rising.
Gravity sat down on the other milk crate, squeezing her legs to one side so they would not touch Svetlana’s. She said quietly, “I’m sorry you think I’m arrogant.”
Svetlana sniffed. “You’re sorry I think you’re arrogant? Or you’re sorry you are arrogant?”
“I’m sorry for whatever it is that’s making you so mad.”
Svetlana shot her another look. Part of Gravity wanted to lock in and stare Svetlana down, but she forced herself to look away. There would be time for that. It wasn’t Gravity’s fault that she was better than Svetlana. She trained harder and wanted it more.
She stood back up. “Okay, then. I guess I’ll watch the sparring.”
Svetlana said, “Okay.”
Out on the gym floor, the heavyweights had finished and were standing in front of the mirror taking selfies together. D-Minus and Lefty had taken their place in the ring and were in the middle of a furious exchange of body punching. It was like changing channels on the radio from something slow and serious to one of those tracks that get the whole club jumping. Coach and Boca were posted up at opposite corners, barking instructions.
Mr. Rizzo had arrived too. Gravity went and hugged him.
“I loved what they wrote in the Daily News,” he said. “You looked real good in that photo.”
“Thanks!” Gravity glowed with pride. “I can’t wait for the Trials.”
“You’ll do great out there. Here.”
He pressed some bills into her palm. It felt like at least a hundred dollars.
“Thanks, Mr. Rizzo!”
It had taken Gravity years to figure out that Mr. Rizzo owned their gym, because he acted so humble. She didn’t like cops, but he was different. He was the only person Gravity had ever met who was equally nice to everyone, no matter where they came from or what they could do for him.
They both turned to look at the ring as Boca yelled, “That was way south of the border!”
Lefty was backing up to the ropes, bent over in agony. D-Minus wore an expression of exaggerated innocence. All the men in the gym made sounds of sympathetic pain.
Boo Boo said, “Damn. D straight up hit him in the nuts.”
“That was fucked up,” said Genya.
Kostya muttered something in Ukrainian.
D-Minus had always had something against Lefty. Gravity had never figured out what it was. Maybe he was just jealous because Lefty was such a good rapper. His latest $outhpaw track had over a hundred thousand likes on SoundCloud.
Lefty recovered and the sparring finished uneventfully. As the two boxers climbed out of the ring, Gravity felt a ripple of excitement pass through the gym. She turned and saw that her cousin had arrived. Melsy was wearing her hot-pink vegan fur, big gold earrings, and white jeans that fit her like a second skin. She held a green juice in one hand and Tyler’s wrist in the other. Some new kid whistled under his breath.
Monster said, “Chill. That’s Gravity’s fam.”
Melissa was the most beautiful girl Gravity knew. She wasn’t just biased because they were cousins; everybody on Instagram thought so too. Melsy had flawless light brown skin, huge dark eyes that stared into your soul, and a tiny body that was all softness and curves. Auntie Rosa was really artistic, and Melsy had inherited her mother’s talent when it came to styling. Gravity loved her new hairdo: shaved on the sides, ironed flat so it hung to her butt, and streaked with electric blue. It made her look like an anime heroine.
Melsy clacked across the gym floor in her high-heeled booties, dragging Tyler, who looked sleep-deprived and grouchy.
“Hey, cuz!” she said in her high, squeaky voice. “Hello, Coach Thomas.”
Gravity inhaled deeply as she kissed her cousin’s soft cheek. Melsy always smelled like honey. It was some kind of lotion she used.
“Hello, young lady!” said Coach. He turned an amused look on Tyler. “Hey, champ! When are you learning to box?”
Tyler shrugged. “I don’t like to fight. Except zombies.”
Coach chuckled and ruffled Tyler’s hair, which, Gravity was relieved to see, Melsy had washed.
“I made you a kale smoothie, cuz!” Melsy said. “I read this article in Men’s Health about how kale is great for performance.”
“Why you read Men’s Health?” said D-Minus. He stuck close to Gravity whenever Melsy came in.
Melsy gave him a look. “Health is very important to me and my cousin. And you know that if men discover something important, they’re not about to tell us.”
She pressed the foul-smelling concoction into Gravity’s hand. Behind her back, Tyler pointed at it and shook his head, eyes wide with fear. Gravity was extremely touched that her cousin had operated a blender, a behavior that was quite unusual for her, but drinking the smoothie was out of the question.
“Melsy,” she said, gently placing the glass back in her cousin’s hand, “this looks so good! But liquids weigh a ton. I have to be super careful about my weight.”
Melsy offered the smoothie to D-Minus, but his desire to flirt only went so far.
Gravity kissed Coach goodbye. He fixed her with his Jedi gaze, and Gravity felt mysterious energy levels rising within her. She thought about all the great champions he had coached. D-Minus with his heart and flash. “Too Fine” Hines with the jab to end all jabs. She thought back farther, to Coach’s own days sparring Joe Louis. All of that was her legacy.
“You make that team now, you hear?” he told her.
She grinned. “Yes, sir.”
“My cousin’s about to beat some girls’ asses,” Melsy said.
A slow smile spread over Coach’s face, revealing a thousand wrinkles. He said, “I do believe she is.”
A wave of certainty washed over Gravity, like the calm gratitude she always felt when she clasped her golden gloves to her heart. She thought of the ring out there in Spokane, waiting for her. The girls. The crowd. Her hand raised in the air for everyone to see.
She would need to put in a new hook in her trophy case. Soon her gloves would have a gold medal keeping them company.
As they left the gym, Melsy took a sip of the smoothie and froze, staring into the glass with a look of shock. Gravity laughed and showed her the sewage drain where they dumped the spit buckets. Melsy slowly poured the contents down it, muttering angry things about Men’s Health.
Gravity took advantage of the moment to block off a nostril and blow out some snot.
Melsy raised her perfect eyebrows. “Do you do that in the gym?”
“Of course.” Gravity repeated the process with the other nostril. “It’s great because you don’t even need to take off your gloves.”
Melsy shook her head. “And you wonder why that fine boy isn’t trying to get with you.”
“What boy?” Gravity asked, even though she knew who Melsy meant.
“You know who I mean.”
Gravity blushed. She herded Ty into the backseat of the Ark, moving aside some paintbrushes and a bolt of fabric to make room for him and making sure he was buckled in. He fell asleep immediately.
Gravity called Auntie Rosa and Melsy’s car the Ark. It was a big LTD the color of old pennies, filled with at least two of everything, mostly from Auntie Rosa’s various art projects. It had a wonderful smell inside from the sticks of palo santo she burned to dispel the smell of the engine fumes, and Melsy’s dad, who passed through once in a blue moon, had installed a really good sound system with bass so loud it could set off other cars’ alarms.
“The gym isn’t about sex, Melsy,” Gravity said as she slid into the passenger seat.
Melsy put the key in the ignition. “Everything is about sex, cuz.”
They drove silently through Brooklyn for a while and th
en Melsy said, “So? What’s the plan with D-Licious?”
Gravity frowned. “My only plan is winning the Olympic Trials.”
“But I thought he was going too!”
“He is. It’s the men’s qualifying tournament at the same time.”
“So?”
“So what?”
“So…” Melsy spoke slowly, as though explaining something to a child. “If he wins, he’ll want company. If he loses, he’ll want sympathy. Either way, you need a fabulous outfit. I wish you’d stopped growing so we could still share clothes.”
Gravity laughed. “My height is my biggest asset. Coach says long, tall fighters like me and D and Leon Hines have the best power.”
“That boy D is tiny!” Melsy said.
“Not for bantamweight. He’s real tall for his weight and has way longer arms than me. He’s got a perfect boxing body.” She stopped, aware that Melsy was giving her one of those I-told-you-so looks. “First you get the money, then you get the honey,” she said, quoting one of Coach’s rules. “Besides, I don’t feel any kind of way for Demetrius.”
But when she said his real name, Gravity felt an ache in the middle of her chest. She pressed a hand to her heart and glanced over to see if her cousin had noticed, but Melsy’s eyes were on the road.
By the time her cousin had pulled into their apartment complex, Tyler was so deep asleep that Gravity was unable to rouse him. Melsy offered to help carry him upstairs, but she had a long drive home to Washington Heights, and Gravity wanted to save her from the sight of whatever state Mom was in. She slung Ty across one shoulder in the fireman’s carry and called the elevator.
There were no lights or sounds from behind their apartment door, which was a relief, since it meant Mom was still out. Opening it just a crack, Gravity reached inside to flip the light switch on, then slammed the door shut again. She opened and shut the door three more times, slamming it as loudly as possible.
