Takedown

by Laura Shovan

  I try to ignore Spence playing half-court basketball on the other side of the gym. He’s staring at me, but since I quit wrestling, I don’t care what Spence does.

  Marisa and Bryan rush into the gym, practically tackling me and Emma. “The karaoke contest is starting,” Marisa says.

  I let Emma drag me to the door. “Marisa and I have been practicing our song for weeks,” she says. “Come cheer us on.”

  I rub my arm. Emma’s got a strong grip, probably from running around with a lacrosse stick all the time. I should have asked her to join the Gladiators. Then Mickey would’ve had another girl on the team.

  In the cafeteria, Mr. Van is in charge of karaoke. Bryan and I crack up when we see him. His badger face doesn’t go with his Hawaiian shirt and plastic lei.

  While Emma and Marisa sign up for karaoke, Bryan gets us lemonade and cookies. I stand to the side of the cafeteria, away from the bright stage lights.

  Nick Spence finds me. “I need to talk to you.” He pushes his floppy bangs out of his eyes.

  “Fine. Talk.”

  “I want to go to a Gladiators practice.”

  I almost snort. “Why? You hate us.” Not us. Them, I tell myself. I’m not a Gladiator anymore.

  Nick shoves his hands in his pockets. “My little sister wants to wrestle,” he says. “She wants to join a team and my dad won’t let her.” He looks right at me. “You know how he is.”

  I nod. “You want to see how Coach and the guys treat Mickey.”

  “Yeah.” He flops his hair.

  “Won’t your dad find out?”

  “I’ll tell my father I’m going to your house for a school project.”

  There are a million things I want to say: Won’t your dad notice when you come home sweaty from practice? Doesn’t he know we hate each other?

  “I saw how you stood up for your partner,” Nick says. “I can do that for my sister. I need to. She looks up to me.”

  “I can’t invite you to practice, Spence. I quit the team.”

  His eyes pop wide. “What’d you do that for?”

  “When I back-talked my coach last weekend, he lost it. I just…I couldn’t take it.”

  Nick kicks a loafer against the concrete wall. “I want to wrestle Delgado, you know. Anna, that’s my sister, I want her to see that it’s okay. But my dad’s old-school. My mom’s not around and he thinks being a single parent means he’s got to be a total control freak. He hates change.”

  Archaic, Bryan would say.

  “Sorry, man.” I put a hand on Nick’s shoulder. It’s the first time I’ve touched him without trying to knock him to the ground.

  “Maybe I could talk to her,” Nick says.

  “You mean my girlfriend?” I crack a smile. Nick smiles back.

  “She’s a good wrestler.”

  This was supposed to be my night off from thinking about Coach, and Mickey, and whether I made a mistake. I could call Mickey, tell her about Nick’s sister, but I can’t stop thinking about what she said to me.

  You think you’re better than everyone, Lev Sofer.

  I’m not better than Nick and he’s not better than me. We’re both trying to figure stuff out.

  “I haven’t talked to Mickey much since I quit.”

  “But you’ll help me?”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  * * *

  I wish the social didn’t have to end. Everything I’ve missed out on since I joined the Gladiators is crammed into three hours. Friends grabbing my arm, dragging me over to play cards and badminton, asking me to listen to them sing. I’m outside, waiting for my parents to pick me up, when Mr. Van comes lumbering out of the building. “Nice shirt, Mr. Van!” I call.

  “Mr. Sofer. Did my eyes deceive me or were you having a parley with Mr. Spence?”

  “I don’t know what that is, but I talked to him, yeah.”

  “Remember Joy Harjo’s words. ‘An enemy who gets in, risks the danger of becoming a friend.’ ”

  “We’re not exactly enemies anymore.”

  “You’ve let go of your black-and-white thinking. Smart.”

  Mom’s car pulls up.

  “Have a good night, Mr. Van. And thanks.”

  Mr. Van is wrong. There is a lot of black-and-white thinking happening in my brain. It’s telling me that quitting wrestling means cutting off my Gladiators friends, including Mickey.

  When I get home, I make myself text her. It’s been more than a week since we fought and I’m not sure she wants to hear from me. The only thing I can think of to say is sorry.

  Mom says I can invite Kenna and Mrs. Franklin to the girls’ tournament. I should have invited Lev too. He finally wrote back to me. It was only one word, but maybe if I’d invited him, he would have said yes.

  I’ve never been to an all-female tournament before. The gym is filled with girls. They’re braiding each other’s hair in the stands, drilling together on the mat. I see girls with compression shirts under their singlets, some with pink boots like mine, and more than one Wrestle Like a Girl T-shirt.

  When Coach Billy walks in, Mom sighs. “He’s so cute.”

  “Ew. Mom, that’s my coach.” I do not like the grin on her face. “Lev and Isaiah call him Billy the Kid.”

  Mom tilts her shoulder to her cheek. “Still cute,” she says. “Don’t worry. He’s too young for me.”

  Coach spots us. When he shakes Mom’s hand, I glare at her. She’d better not embarrass me. She gives me a wink.

  “Ready to get out there and crush these girls, Mickey?” Coach asks.

  When he says “crush,” I stifle a giggle. I bet he has no idea my mom has a crush on him.

  I take out my headgear and shoes. Next to us on the bleachers, a group of refs is reviewing the rule book. There are at least eight of them: old, young, black, white, an Asian guy, but not one woman.

  “Girls are more flexible,” one of them says. “You’ll see ’em twist out of a pinning combination that’d end the match for a boy.”

  I spot a girl sitting alone on top of the bleachers. She looks friendly enough. I’m going to go for it.

  “Nice view,” I say when I get up there.

  She smiles and closes her book, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. It’s my favorite in the series. I like her already. Now that I’m up here, the girl looks a little older than me. She’s Indian, maybe. Her skin is more olive than Kenna’s. Her hair hangs down her back in a thick, dark braid.

  “My partner and I like to sit up here too,” I tell her.

  “Where is she?” the girl asks.

  “He. I’m the only girl on my team.”

  “There are two of us on my team,” she says, “but the other girl is my sister, and she’s only seven.” She points out a little girl in a purple singlet. “I drill with a boy too.”

  “I’m Mikayla.” It feels strange, saying my full name. When I’m wrestling, I tell people I’m Mickey. But with no boys around, I can be my real self. Dad’s not here, so I don’t have anything to prove. Today, I get to wrestle because that’s what I love to do.

  The girl smiles again. “I’m Supriya. We drove down from Connecticut last night.”

  “Connecticut? Isn’t that like five hours away?”

  “Six! My dad said we couldn’t pass this up. He’s my wrestling coach. He coached my brother too, but he’s in high school now. My father didn’t want to give up the team, so my sister and I joined.”

  “Want to warm up?”

  Supriya and I jump off the bleachers. We jog around the mats together, then find our bracket sheets. There are only five girls in my age and weight class.

  Supriya waves good-bye to get ready for her first match as Kenna and her mom walk in. They have a surprise for me. Lalita is here too.

  I give them all a
gigantic hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Kenna’s in jeans and her Mustangs Wrestling T-shirt from rec league. Seeing our old team logo makes me smile.

  It’s clear Lalita has never been to a wrestling tournament before. Even though it’s almost February, she’s going to be way too hot in that fluffy blue sweater and thick black leggings. Her eyes are bugging out. “There are so many people here,” she says. “I thought you were like the only girl wrestler in the state.”

  Kenna and I laugh. I introduce my friends to Coach Billy. Lalita sits with the moms, but Kenna comes with me and Coach as we scout out the wrestlers in my bracket.

  “I hear you used to wrestle, Kenna,” Coach says. “We could use a few more girls on the Gladiators. Mickey’s got her hands full.”

  Kenna says, “I’ve heard about the stinky, sweaty boys.” That makes Coach laugh.

  “I told you he’s nice,” I whisper, as we follow Coach Billy across the gym and watch one of the matches.

  “This girl right here, she’s winning, but she’s a defensive wrestler,” Coach tells us. “She waits for her opponent to make a move, then—BAM!—scoops up the leg when the other girl is off-balance.” Coach looks at me. “How do you handle a defensive wrestler?”

  “First shot, best shot.”

  Coach knows what he’s talking about. In my first bout, I come out strong against the defensive wrestler and catch her by surprise.

  The ref is lying on the mat next to us. I push her shoulders down and look up at him. Is he going to give me the pin? The buzzer sounds. The ref holds up three fingers and touches them to his back, awarding me three points. I’ll take the W. My bracket’s so small that one win puts me in the championship round.

  “That was amazing!” Lalita says after the match.

  “You’ve gotten so fast,” Kenna says. “I could never wrestle with you now.”

  My next opponent is from a Pennsylvania team. Coach Billy says, “They’re well trained. She’s going to be tough. Push yourself and keep fighting.”

  I step onto the mat and put on the green cuff, glad to have my lucky color. Maybe it’s a sign that this is my moment.

  The Pennsylvania wrestler gets me with an ankle pick in the first few seconds. I manage to move out of bounds. The ref sweeps his arms to the side, whistles, and calls us to reset in the middle. He holds up his red cuff with three fingers raised. It’s not even the end of the first period, and I’m down 5–0.

  “Keep it together,” Coach calls out. “No quitting.”

  Delgados aren’t quitters, I tell myself.

  The ref flips his coin. Red is face up. My opponent chooses down position. I try everything—chopping her arm, sinking a half—but she breaks my hold and gets the escape. Another point for her.

  I take neutral stance and tell myself not to panic. If I can’t overpower this girl, maybe I can outsmart her. I fake a shot to the leg. She moves to block me, and I spin her to the ground, shoulders first.

  “Takedown. Two!” the ref shouts.

  She’s on her back and I’m on top. She’s not a defensive wrestler. Instead of bridging her stomach to the ceiling to knock me off, she panics and kicks wildly. It’s too late. The ref hits the mat. The bout is over.

  “Woo-hoo!” Coach yells, pumping a fist in the air. “You know why you won? Undefeated spirit. You didn’t let the points get in your head.”

  My cheering squad—Mom, Mrs. Franklin, Kenna, and Lalita—are jumping up and down in the stands. I think the moms might be crying.

  Supriya from Connecticut finds me when the awards are handed out. We take a picture of both of us holding first-place trophies. I want to go celebrate with Kenna and Lalita, introduce them to the Delgado donut tradition, but Mom can’t wait to get out the door. There’s a snowstorm coming and she’s nervous about the weather. Before we go, Coach Billy pulls me aside one more time.

  “Would you to talk to Lev for me, Mickey?” I almost correct him and say my name is Mikayla. “I’ve spoken to the Sofers a few times, but so far, he hasn’t changed his mind.”

  “He won’t talk to me either, Coach.”

  “Try again. We can’t give up on him.”

  Holding on to my giant, not-nail-polished, first-place Trophy Girl, I tell Coach, “Okay.”

  I’ll figure out a way to bring Lev back to the Gladiators.

  * * *

  At home, Evan is waiting at the kitchen table. I’ve got my trophy in one hand and a box of donuts in the other.

  “How’s it going, Mighty Mite?” he asks. “Or should I say Girls’ State Champ?”

  “You should say Girls’ State Champ.”

  I hold out my trophy.

  “Cody!” Mom shouts up the stairs. “Little help with the groceries? Evan, you too.”

  “Donut first?” Cody calls.

  “Donut after. Earn your keep,” Mom says.

  I pour three glasses of milk while Mom, Cody, and Evan unpack the bags. Then Evan comes to sit with me. We munch on our donuts.

  “Mom and I talked,” he says. “We’re still buddies, right?”

  “You’re my brother.” I tap my finger on his hairy arm. “Can you do me a favor?”

  “Name it.”

  “I know Lev’s sister broke your heart and all.”

  Evan closes his eyes. “I don’t like where this is going.”

  “Can you talk to him? Lev, I mean.” I’m not sure what to say. I need to stop worrying about hurting my brother’s feelings, and think about my friend. “He got shaken up. Ever since your dual meet.”

  Evan nods. “So I’ve heard.”

  “He quit the Gladiators.”

  He doesn’t say anything right away. “I didn’t know that.” Evan finishes his milk and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, like a little kid. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Tell him not to give up.”

  “Hit him with the old ‘Delgados aren’t quitters’ pep talk?”

  I put my head on my brother’s shoulder. “How about the old ‘I made a mistake, please forgive me’?”

  “It’s like that?”

  “Yeah. It’s like that. He won’t talk to me, Ev. But he might listen to you.”

  “I’m the fallen hero.”

  “Not if you get back up and fix it.”

  “Coach Billy sent me another email this morning,” Abba says on Saturday. My parents are watching the Weather Channel. They’ve upgraded tonight’s snow prediction to a blizzard. “Tomorrow’s the last qualifier. You’re sure you don’t want to go if this storm is a bust?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you talked to Mickey?” Mom asks.

  “I texted her.”

  My parents give each other a look. Sometimes I think they’re not happy unless they’re worrying about me.

  I hate to admit it, but my first nonwrestling Saturday has been dull. I can only play video games for so long before I itch to get up and move. Mickey hasn’t texted me back yet. Is she at a tournament? Did she make States?

  By dinnertime, it’s starting to snow. Dalia and I set the table. No weigh-ins for me tomorrow. For once, I eat as much spaghetti as I want, two big bowls full, covered in meat sauce.

  “Can I go to Bryan’s?” I ask after we eat.

  Mom’s wearing sweatpants. Her hair is in a messy ponytail. Now that she’s between semesters, Mom’s more like her old self. I’m glad she has a few weeks off. She earned it.

  “Have you looked outside, Lev? It’s coming down sideways.”

  “It’s not like I’m going to get lost walking across the street,” I argue. But after a rumble of thunder, I know I’m stuck inside tonight.

  When I wake up the next morning, snow is pressing against my window like it wants to come inside. Everyone else is asleep, but Grover needs to go out. I grab a shovel
, put on my hat, coat, and gloves, and head into the storm. Ice pellets hit my face. It’s so quiet. I feel like I’m the only person in the world.

  When I let Grover out, snow gathers on his eyelashes. He runs down the path I shoveled, ears flapping. The second he’s done with his business, Grover heads inside. Abba is waiting for me with a mug of hot chocolate.

  “How much is out there, do you think?” he asks.

  “It’s up to my knees and it’s still snowing.”

  “There’s supposed to be more snow tonight.”

  The blizzard lasts all day. I text Bryan. He complains that his mom is making him practice clarinet. I complain that my mom wants me to do a jigsaw puzzle with her, but I don’t really mind. I can only spend so much of the day wondering if quitting Gladiators was a good idea. Especially when Mickey sends me a one-word message: Partners.

  * * *

  By Monday morning, the storm is over. The snowplows are out, but we don’t have school.

  I let Grover outside and breathe in the cold air. The snow is like a sheet of paper where nothing has been written. Today, I can decide what I want to do and who I want to be. Am I still a wrestler? And if I’m not, what’s my thing? Everyone has a thing. Bryan has music, and his crush on Marisa. Emma has lacrosse. Mr. Van has his poetry and that club he wants me to join. I’ve spent so much time wrestling, I don’t know what else I’m good at.

  When Grover’s done, I run upstairs to get my notebook. Dalia is sitting on my bed in her panda bathrobe.

  “Don’t quit,” she says. “You’re just having a bad season.”

  “Worse than bad.” I sit next to her.

  “You love wrestling. You’ve kept every trophy. Your first pair of wrestling shoes is hanging on the back of your door.”

  “It’s too late. The last qualifier was yesterday.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Don’t be an idiot, Lev. There’s two feet of snow on the ground. There was no qualifier.”

  “So?”