Gloves Off

by Louisa Reid

  i run,

  for ever it seems.

  i think i’m even running in my dreams.

  (running from

  exams and

  school

  and

  grades

  and the fear that i won’t get

  even half of what i need

  to build a future

  that will see me

  up and out of here.)

  rosie doesn’t seem to need to try.

  everything comes so easy,

  and even though

  i can’t hate her for that,

  i don’t like it when she swings

  and

  shouts

  chicken

  when i don’t hit back.

  “come on, lily,

  chicken, licken,” she calls,

  darting ahead of me

  towards the main road

  like a kid, playing tag,

  fooling around as if it doesn’t matter.

  hair still damp from the shower,

  slicked back off my face,

  clumsy in my joggers, backpack on my shoulders

  i’m nobody’s dream.

  enough, i decide.

  if she wants to be caught,

  i’ll catch.

  we chase,

  and then,

  i stop her.

  i hold on tight,

  and we laugh,

  her face is bright and smiling,

  and her joy

  is as delicious as anything,

  so i catch it,

  swallow it,

  a spoonful of sweetness

  that burns in my chest,

  and right there

  in the street

  before i can wonder

  what i’m doing,

  i kiss her.

  SHE LAUGHS

  and i step away,

  put my hand to my mouth

  want to run.

  “god, i wasn’t expecting that,”

  rosie says,

  reaching out an arm.

  but,

  i step back again,

  and try to gather myself.

  i hear a hurry of sorries

  spilling into the street

  but don’t hear

  rosie speak,

  although she keeps talking

  her mouth moving, her words are far away.

  i step back.

  before she can tell me

  that wasn’t okay.

  OH

  “you want to come home with me?”

  she says,

  and i think i must have misheard,

  shake my head, try to dislodge the glue in my ears.

  she takes my hand,

  the air crackles, electric around us –

  and this time

  i’m

  the

  one

  being

  kissed.

  I’M WAKING UP

  everything that’s been asleep.

  i don’t know where to put my eyes,

  my hands,

  my mouth.

  but rosie is sure enough

  for both of us.

  ANOTHER NIGHT

  she takes off her clothes

  and mine

  and we lie

  beside one another.

  she takes my hand

  and holds it.

  she is soft

  and i let myself touch her,

  so, we lie like that

  until

  everything

  is dark

  and clear.

  and in the morning

  she’s still there.

  DON’T ANSWER

  the world goes quiet.

  if someone calls my name

  i don’t hear it,

  if someone gives me grief –

  whatever.

  miss keeps me back at break,

  “what’s wrong, lily?”

  i nearly laugh –

  now, she notices.

  i could make her a list,

  but actually, all she’s bothered about

  is the homework i haven’t done

  (again).

  “i’ll have to ring home if this carries on,”

  she says.

  i shrug and walk away.

  none of it matters.

  there’s just

  rosie.

  MESSAGE

  I like to win you know

  it says,

  and then rosie sends

  a smiley face,

  blowing a kiss.

  THIS IS ME, MAYBE

  i’ve been thrown into space,

  have landed on another planet

  and i don’t care if there’s

  no way back to earth.

  i think

  i’m finding my feet here

  out in the atmosphere,

  the pavements are clouds

  and the sky burns,

  ignited by the sun,

  as hot blood licks

  through my veins.

  everything is

  on fire,

  and light

  streams

  into the far beyond.

  i glow.

  PUNCH DRUNK

  what’s happened?

  that’s mum.

  lil, where’s your head?

  that’s dad.

  concentrate!

  that’s jane.

  WAKE UP!

  miss says.

  but it’s better here,

  inside myself

  working out

  things

  i never

  thought i’d

  need to understand.

  MIRROR, MIRROR

  i look at myself

  and wonder what rosie sees.

  i try to make my hair

  sit flat

  and straight.

  i try to

  like the shape of my face.

  i try to

  see myself

  in a new light.

  and maybe, in the corner of my eye

  i catch a glimpse of

  something special.

  DON’T LET ME DOWN

  but,

  it’s my fight,

  i tell mum.

  had i really been expecting her to come?

  “i’m sorry,

  she says,

  “i don’t think i can bear

  to see you get hurt.

  i can’t stand blood

  you know that, lil.”

  you’ve got to come,

  why didn’t you tell me before?

  “i did,”

  she says.

  mum is hiding in her sewing room,

  dad’s waiting for me

  downstairs.

  if i’m late jane will go spare.

  mum pins the material she’s working on

  and holds it up to the light,

  not looking at me,

  pretending

  it’s all right

  for her to let me down.

  i don’t say again.

  i don’t say for the millionth time

  i don’t say

  For All My Life.

  “you don’t really

  want me

  there,

  and that’s fine.

  aunty clare will come.

  and your uncle ray.”

  i pull a face.

  great

  “just you take care tonight,

  that’s all,

  and do yourself proud.”

  (proud is what

  i’d like

  her to be.

  of herself,

  and me.)

  BERNADETTE (19)

  Here are the cupboards full of

  Things you’ll never wear.

  Dreams you’ve stitched for yourself,

  A rag doll happiness

  That sits and waits behind these wooden doors.

  You could sew something better.


  Bernadette –

  I see you

  Bright

  And

  Fine –

  In

  Gold.

  THE BIG FIGHT

  i can’t watch the others.

  sit, head down, waiting,

  nerves jangling,

  legs shaking,

  feel like something’s

  trapped

  inside,

  that monstrous pain,

  that tide of rage.

  i can’t breathe.

  i see rosie

  inside my mind,

  on the ropes, hurting.

  i won’t do it.

  “lil, are you all right?”

  jane waits for an answer

  and silence bounces between us.

  how can i tell her that it feels

  like something’s

  already

  over?

  SOMEONE IS SCREAMING

  my name.

  it’s dad and

  aunty clare.

  even ray.

  their mouths

  open and shut

  but I don’t hear the

  cheers.

  i’m wearing the shorts

  mum sewed for me –

  bright red.

  like i’m a champ.

  Lily Lionheart dad called me,

  just joking around.

  inside

  i have my own roar

  just

  NO.

  STRONG

  where’s the girl

  i’m supposed to smash?

  she’s jumping,

  nimble and fast,

  feinting,

  ready and

  waiting.

  we bump fists.

  she’s the girl i kissed last night

  and the night before.

  she told me i was pretty,

  that she likes the way i smell,

  and she likes the dimples in my cheeks when

  i smile.

  she’s

  smaller than me

  but tough –

  has muscles like rock,

  and she likes to win.

  i like that girl

  more than i like myself.

  but i could knock her down

  with one hot blow.

  because i’m stronger than her now.

  IT’S TIME

  to prove myself.

  the gym flashes

  and crashes with noise.

  i taste sweat on my lip,

  bitter and salty.

  i’m standing in my corner

  wanting to run.

  rosie’s opposite.

  on the tips of her toes

  bobbing up and down

  ready

  and bold

  in blue.

  i’m already sinking,

  already done.

  dad’s waiting and watching,

  the bell rings

  he’s cheering me

  loud

  his voice breaks through

  fists pumping

  shoulders twitching

  egging me on.

  rosie’s approaching,

  the look in her eye says

  Come on, Lily

  You’ve got to TRY,

  Don’t make this too easy

  Don’t just let me win.

  Make me look good here.

  she nods.

  we begin.

  OFF GUARD

  i’m watching for her right hand,

  she’s circling,

  waiting,

  but here come the jabs,

  as she takes first swing

  it’s a glancing blow,

  i move away

  want her to know

  that i won’t fight back.

  i don’t want to lose her,

  not over this.

  i move

  we spar

  the crowd is waiting

  shouting,

  i can’t not start.

  ’cos when you’re down

  you’re a loser

  you’re in the gutter

  you’re done.

  when you’re down

  you’re nothing

  you’re finished

  they’ve won.

  “LILY!”

  dad’s voice

  that yell.

  i look at him

  his eyes are full,

  he’s waiting for me

  to show them

  what i can do.

  he waves and points

  and i see that

  mum is here,

  after all.

  shouting for me.

  and while i’m not looking,

  rosie takes her chance.

  oh.

  i shake my head.

  taste blood

  pure and raw –

  stagger

  back

  and

  find

  my

  feet –

  duck

  another

  and then

  it’s time.

  I

  hold up my gloves

  and

  begin

  to paint the ring with blood.

  it’s easy.

  mum’s wearing red

  and orange

  and pink

  and the blur of her standing and cheering

  for me

  is all that i see.

  it goes on.

  like that.

  a trumpet blast, a fanfare

  lifts me –

  i’m gonna fly now

  simple –

  as if i’ve always known

  the steps of

  this particular dance.

  like i learned it

  in years

  of ducking

  of waiting

  of striking

  out

  at myself.

  i know what i have to do.

  to

  batter

  rosie

  d

  o

  w

  n

  drop my hips.

  breathe,

  pivot,

  force her back,

  with a barrage of blows,

  double-jab,

  right cross,

  roll under the left hook,

  follow up

  right cross

  left uppercut,

  right cross –

  don’t feel it if she hits me back.

  i smother and fall

  into rosie –

  so she has to hold me up,

  and then

  she’s on the ropes.

  how many rounds?

  it’s done.

  the bell rings.

  and jane holds up my arm.

  winner

  i take off my gloves,

  spit out blood,

  and my mouthguard,

  pull off my headguard,

  and shake the sweat from my hair

  let the cheers chill me.

  gloves off,

  am i still good enough?

  BITTERSWEET

  “you bloody little belter, lil,”

  dad says,

  he grabs me, spins me round, lifts me and whirls me,

  in front of all those people,

  in that ring.

  “i knew you could,

  i knew you would,

  i’m so proud, girl!”

  it’s just one fight, dad, nothing much,

  i say, and pull away and clamber down,

  into the crowd.

  my family are embarrassing.

  ray’s filling the place up with his gob,

  “she’s my niece, that’s our lil,

  she’s a legend, did you see?”

  i tell him to shut it,

  but don’t pull out of his hug.

  “oh, lil,” mum says,

  waiting – right there.

  �
�are you all right?”

  she’s crying,

  but grinning

  and she holds me tight,

  i think maybe

  her smile is worth

  that fight.

  THANK YOU

  for coming, mum,

  i manage to croak.

  she nods

  and i wipe

  the blood and sweat and tears away.

  NO REPLY

  rosie has her back to me.

  when finally she turns

  so i can see what i’ve done

  i suck in my breath.

  “congratulations, lil,

  good fight,

  i guess the best girl won.”

  her swollen eye is already glowing

  with bruises

  that i recognize – i’ve worn them too

  and feel the throb and stab as if it is my own;

  smashed nose,

  the blood still smeared around her face,

  but it’s the look in her eyes that hurts the most.

  i think i screwed up,

  i think i really hurt her

  in a way that wasn’t right.

  i didn’t mean it,

  is all i have the guts to say.

  she shrugs, as if it’s nothing, forces a smile

  and i don’t dare touch her,

  as a million miles open up between us.

  suddenly the world is very large

  and i am very small.

  it spins,

  as rosie picks up her things,

  this doesn’t change things, does it?

  i call,

  and listen to her answer me,

  by saying nothing

  at all.

  LEAVING

  “are you going to prom?”

  mollie asks

  finding herself beside me.

  word got round –

  someone saw me

  in the ring

  and all the blood that

  i left there,

  rosie’s blood,

  which i never meant to spill,