Takedown

by Laura Shovan

  “Let’s go check it out,” he says. The three of us run up to the highest row of seats in the arena.

  “Nice view,” Kenna says.

  Lev and I can’t stop laughing. Finally, we explain our inside joke to Kenna.

  “Lev always says that.”

  “You always say that.”

  “Where’s your notebook?” I tell Kenna, “Lev is a poet.” I can tell she’s impressed.

  “I didn’t think I’d need it today,” he says.

  We sit for a minute, but Lev seems antsy. “Let’s go back down. This is too far from the action. I want to watch the matches.”

  When we get back to the main walkway, volunteers in yellow shirts are posting bracket sheets on the walls. The space fills with kids and parents. Everyone’s trying to find their list of matches for the day. Parents take out pens and phones. Kids write match numbers on the palms of their hands. Lev and I stand at the back, craning our necks to see my bracket while Kenna waits for us. We push into the crowd.

  “There it is,” I say. There are thirteen kids in the U12, 95-pound weight class.

  “You’ve got a tough group. That kid Micah Garvin from the Gold Medal team? I heard he’s undefeated.”

  “Spence is on there too,” I say. “You think he’ll forfeit today?”

  “Actually, he wants to wrestle you. He told me at school.”

  “You talked to Spence?” I always forget Lev and Nick go to school together.

  Lev nods. “His little sister wants to wrestle. Nick’s trying to convince their dad it’s okay.”

  “It is okay.”

  “I know that.” Lev shrugs. “Don’t worry about him. Go out there and wrestle your match.”

  We stare at each other, then start to laugh again. Lev sounds exactly like Coach Billy. He puts an arm around my neck. “You made it! State championships!” We tie up and grapple in the crowded hallway.

  “I’m going to find Isaiah,” Lev says. “See you. Nice to meet you, Kenna.”

  “That’s the guy who gave you so much trouble this season? He seems nice,” Kenna says, raising her eyebrows at me.

  “He turned out to be a really good friend. I wish he were wrestling today.”

  Lev has changed in the last few weeks. He’s not hiding from the noise at the top of the bleachers. His eyes aren’t squinting from a headache. I thought coming to States and not wrestling would be hard for him, but Lev seems happy.

  “Clear the floor,” a voice calls over the loudspeaker. “We’re getting ready to wrestle.” The whole arena wakes up. Applause and cheers fill my ears.

  “I’d better find Coach,” I tell Kenna. “Come on. You can sit with my family.”

  Dad wants to give me a pep talk before I go to the judges’ table for my first match. He puts his hands over the cups of my headgear and touches his forehead to mine. “In it to win it?”

  “You know it.”

  I run over to check in. “I’m Mikayla Delgado,” I tell the judges.

  Then I’m in the middle circle, putting on the green cuff. Our ref smiles at me and my opponent, like he’s as excited to be here as we are. His hand swoops up. “Wrestle!”

  This kid and I are evenly matched. Every move I try, he has a counter. Every attack he makes, I block. At the end of the first period, there’s no score.

  “Red chooses down,” the ref calls as we set for second period.

  On the whistle, I chop the kid’s arm, try to break him down, but he’s already starting to stand. I cling to my opponent’s back, wrapping both legs around his shins. As I curl my feet around his ankles, he stumbles forward. When he puts his hands down to break our fall, I spin him to his back. The ref signals the takedown, then sprawls on the mat next to us.

  “Time!” the ref calls. He touches three fingers to his shoulder, back points for me. I hear cheering in the stands. My whole family is out there, and my two best friends, Kenna and Lev. I’ve got to do this.

  It’s my turn as down man. If I keep my base, the other guy can’t score. The whistle blows. I feel my opponent spin against my back, looking for a hold. My ankles are tucked too deep for him to get a pick.

  “Action!” the ref says. “Let’s go, guys. This is your warning.” When I don’t move fast enough, he calls me for stalling and gives a point to the other guy.

  We reset. Every time I try to stand, this kid breaks me down, flat on my stomach. But he never turns me, never gets the score. It’s not a thrilling way to end the match, but I win, 3–1. I’ve won a match at the state championships!

  The ref raises my arm. “Nice job,” he tells me before I run to shake the opposing coach’s hand. “I like seeing girls out here on the mat.”

  He means well, I guess, but it’s States. Can’t we focus on the match and not the boy-versus-girl thing?

  In the stands, my family is cheering. Not just my family. A whole bunch of Gladiators and their parents shout my name. I hear someone scream, “Pink shoes, can’t lose!” Was that Kenna? She waves at me, tilts her head toward Lev, and smiles. I know what that means. She thinks he’s a good guy.

  Evan and Cody meet me in the bleachers. “Did you hear that?” Evan asks.

  “Nobody cheers for me like that,” Cody says. “Good job, Mickey. You killed it.”

  My mind’s already on the next match, with a kid from the Bulldogs. “What’s my number?” I ask Dad.

  “You have time. Get a snack. Stay warmed up. Way to go, kiddo.” Dad pulls me in for another hug. This is it, I tell myself. This is what I wanted.

  Kenna, Lev, Isaiah, and I check out the concessions. Of course, Lev buys a pack of Twizzlers so we can celebrate my win. Without Josh here, we’re not the Fearsome Foursome, but something else. It’s always been Kenna and me, and I was fine with that. We’ve made other friends who’ve come and gone. I didn’t mind as long as we had each other. This year, Kenna has Lalita and the kids she met from the “Thriller” act, and I’ve got my Gladiators. The two of us are still best friends, but we each have a circle of our own, new people who are important to us.

  I win my next match, pin the kid in the second period. People in the stands go nuts. Haven’t they ever seen a girl wrestle before?

  “Nice boots!” someone shouts from the bleachers as I walk off the mat. I send them a wave.

  I have to wait another twenty-five matches until I’m up again, but I’m rising in the bracket. When new bout sheets are posted, my name has moved closer to the championship round.

  I look at the consolation bouts. Nick Spence already lost one today. If I keep winning, I won’t have to wrestle him. But this morning’s matches took a lot out of me. And just my luck, my next opponent is Micah Garvin, the undefeated kid from Gold Medal.

  I tell myself not to think about the fact that he’s nationally ranked. Like Lev said, I’ve got to go out there and wrestle my match, no matter who’s across the mat.

  On Saturday morning, when Evan and I walk into Towson University’s arena, the outside world stops existing. I’m here for Mickey, one hundred percent.

  I’ve never been to a tournament as a fan before. Today, I get to watch Mickey and Isaiah wrestle without worrying about my own matches.

  There are a bunch of Gladiators here, but Devin is the first to say hello. He runs up and pulls on my jacket. He doesn’t care that I’m not on his team anymore.

  “Hey, Devin.” I pick him up and throw him over my shoulder. He’s all legs. In a couple of years, he’ll be tall like Isaiah. “You ready to kick butt out there?”

  “Ready!”

  I put him down on the mat. “Show me your stance.”

  He gets low, with his hands up. His face is all pinched, lips smooshed together, eyes narrow. I take my stance across from Devin and let him get a shot on me. He grabs a single leg and takes me down to the mat.

  “Two!�
�� Devin shouts. He jumps up and runs circles around me, holding up two fingers.

  I laugh and give him a fist bump. “Way to go, man. I’ve got to find Mickey. You wrestle hard when it’s your turn tomorrow.”

  Last week, I asked Josh and Isaiah to video chat with me. I explained my idea for helping Mickey, and how I thought it might help Nick too. It was the way people cheered for that girl at the Naval Academy tournament that gave me the idea. Today, we have a stadium full of wrestling fans. If I ask, I know a whole lot of them will cheer for Mickey. And if a whole lot of people make it clear they want her to wrestle, maybe Dr. Spence will give in.

  Thanks to Isaiah’s mom, all the Gladiators parents know we need a cheering section for Mickey’s matches. Especially if she ends up wrestling Spence.

  I asked Josh not to tell his uncle the plan. I don’t want Coach Billy getting in trouble with the state wrestling association. We didn’t tell Mickey or the Delgados, either. She’ll wrestle better if she doesn’t know what we’re doing.

  I stay calm, even though the air is buzzing with nervous energy. Wrestlers run around, playing tag between the seats, acting like normal kids, even though they’re the best wrestlers in the state.

  The first time I see Mickey, she’s with that girl she’s always telling me about, Kenna. Mickey says they’re best friends, so I’m surprised they’re total opposites. Mickey’s loud and strong, the way she pushes me and her brothers around. Kenna is quiet. I notice the way she watches people. I bet she was a good defensive wrestler.

  While Mickey warms up, Kenna and I walk around the arena. I fill her in on the plan.

  “I like it,” she says. “Even if it doesn’t work, Mikayla’s going to see how many people are on her side.”

  “Do you miss wrestling?” I ask.

  Kenna looks at the mats, spread across the arena floor. There are people everywhere, in the stands, gathered on the edges of mats. There are judges, referees, coaches, parents. She pulls a brown curl until it’s straight, then shakes her head. “No. I miss Mickey. Wrestling rec was fun, but this isn’t for me. I’m a backstage kind of person.”

  “I’m still trying to figure out what kind of person I am.”

  “The kind who stands up for his partner,” she says. “That’s good enough for me.”

  The Gold Medal kid pins me in twenty-three seconds. He crows and stamps his feet. He even flexes his biceps at the bleachers. What a show-off.

  My brothers and Lev huddle around me. Cody rubs my upper arms. They’re bright red. The Gold Medal guy was squeezing me so hard, there are finger marks on my muscles.

  “Are you okay, Mikayla?” Mom examines my arms. “We should take you to see the trainer.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Evan says, “Let me handle this, Mom.” He leans down and gets in my face, the way Dad does after a tough match. “You made it all the way to the semifinals. Do you know how amazing that is?”

  “Why, because I’m a girl?”

  I try to walk away from Evan, but Cody catches me. “Don’t be an idiot,” he says. “You were one match away from winning the whole tournament. Girl or not, that’s pretty boss.”

  “Sorry,” I say. I know I’m having an awesome day, but I hate getting beat like that, caught in a pinning combination before I even get a shot in. And that kid was the worst sore winner I have ever seen.

  I put on my Delgado shirt over my singlet. When Cody saw it this morning, he complained, “Why don’t I get one?” and then asked, “Can I have a T-shirt instead of a tattoo?”

  Mom said, “That is an excellent idea.”

  Dad examines a photo of my bout sheet on his phone. “You drop down to match 858. You don’t have long to rest. Eat a little something. Drink some water. Stay warm.”

  “Do you know who I’m wrestling?”

  “They haven’t updated the brackets yet. Could be Lewis or Spence.”

  “I’ll warm up with you,” Lev says.

  “What if it’s Nick?” I ask him when we find a space to drill.

  Lev sits back on his heels and looks at me. “You want some pointers, just in case? I’ve wrestled Spence a lot. I know what he’s going to throw at you.”

  “That’s not cheating?”

  “More like scouting.”

  We practice blocking and breaking cradles, Nick’s signature move, but we don’t have much time.

  My heart speeds up when I pull my cap over my braids, put on my headgear, and check in with the judges. Nick is talking to his father in their corner. I give Lev one last look. He shoots me a thumbs-up from the stands. Kenna waves.

  I run to the center of the mat and put on the green cuff. There’s Nick in his royal-blue Eagles singlet, the one my brothers wore when they were my age.

  I close my eyes, try to push down my nerves. If he forfeits, I win this match and move on to the bout for third place. But if he wants to wrestle, I’m ready. I’m a Gladiator.

  Spence is strutting around the arena in his blue Eagles singlet. His little sister is trailing behind him. He must be on babysitting duty. The way he picks her up and piggybacks her, I don’t think he minds.

  When we pass, I nod to Nick and he nods back. He doesn’t know what I’m planning either. He caught me in the sixth-grade hall yesterday and asked if I’d come up with something.

  “Leave it to me,” I told him. “You focus on wrestling. Nice hair, by the way.”

  He’d dyed the tips of his floppy hair Eagles blue.

  “Thanks. My sister did it with Kool-Aid for States. My dad hates it.” Nick grinned. “I won’t forget this.”

  “She’s going to beat you, Spence.”

  “If she does, it’ll be a fair fight.”

  * * *

  Part of me hopes Mickey and Spence won’t have a match today, because that would make everyone’s life easier. But at the same time, I want to see if I can make this plan work.

  Isaiah comes to give me the report. He’s been spying on Mickey’s bracket sheet all day. “We’re on,” he says. “She’s wrestling Spence on mat eight.”

  I slap his hand. “Get everybody who’s not wrestling right now. All the Gladiators. All the parents.”

  “Hey, Lev,” Isaiah says. “This isn’t the end, is it? You and me, we’re going to hang out when the season’s over.”

  “I hope so,” I tell him.

  My birthday is in the summer. I’ve never invited wrestling friends to my party before, but I want Josh, Isaiah, and Mickey, maybe even Devin, to be there. Bryan too, of course. Emma, Marisa. My guest list is going to be huge.

  I run into the stands to find my team. After all the years of practices, spending weekends at tournaments together, the Gladiators moms and dads know me. They pat me on the back as I walk down the steps and take a seat next to Kenna and the Delgados.

  “This is it,” Kenna whispers. “Good luck.”

  Mickey and Spence are at the judges’ table. They stand side by side without looking at each other. Coach Billy is in one corner, clapping his hands together. Dr. Spence is on the other side, standing stiff as a board. Nick’s sister sits in the coach’s chair. She has a blue streak in her hair like her brother’s.

  “C’mon, Nicky!” she shouts.

  It all plays out in front of me, the way it has so many times this season, but now I see things differently. Nick looks at his father. I can tell, the way his shoulders cave, that he wants his dad to say, Yes, Nick can wrestle. He doesn’t want to throw away a shot at placing in the state tournament.

  Dr. Spence shakes his head, the way he has every time Nick and Mickey stepped on the mat this season.

  The ref walks Mickey to the center circle by herself. My heart pounds. Kenna grabs my arm and squeezes.

  Before the ref can raise Mickey’s hand, I shout, “Let her wrestle!”

  A few voices join in,
yelling, “Let her wrestle!”

  Coach Billy looks into the stands. The ref looks up too. Then Dr. Spence.

  “Go, Mickey!” Kenna calls. “You’ve got this.”

  Evan turns to me and smiles. He cups his hands around his mouth. “Let her wrestle!” he shouts.

  “Let her wrestle!” The Delgados join the rest of the Gladiators parents, picking up the chant. Soon it spreads through the stands, louder and louder, beyond where the Gladiators are sitting. Other people, parents and wrestlers, pick up the words. “Let her wrestle!”

  Nick spots me. He tips his head and I nod back. He shoots a glance at his father. Dr. Spence wipes his forehead. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him look nervous.

  The chant gets louder. “Let her wrestle!” People walk over to mat eight, to see what’s going on. “Let her wrestle! Let her wrestle!”

  It feels like the entire stadium is focused on Mickey, standing alone in the center of the mat.

  Nick says something to his father. He points at his sister. Dr. Spence looks down at her and nods. Then Nick is running back to the judges’ table. His face is all headgear and smiles as he takes his stance across from Mickey.

  Applause and cheering surround me as Mickey and Spence shake hands. Dr. Spence turns his back to the mat. For a second, I think he’s going to walk away and make Nick wrestle without a coach. But he gathers Nick’s sister up, kneels on the mat with her, and claps his hands together.

  Kenna hugs me. “We did it.”

  “Wrestle!” the ref shouts. Mickey gets the first shot. She goes for a double leg and misses, but recovers quickly. They grapple for most of the first period. Nick tries to turn her. He’s got good upper-body strength, but he can’t get a grip on Mickey. Seconds before the period ends, she trips him. They’re on the ground. Mickey crawls up Nick’s body to the top position.

  “Two!” the ref calls.

  “Woo-hoo, Mickey!” Kenna yells.

  Behind us, Isaiah’s mom is on her feet, clapping. “That’s how we do it!”

  The ref flips the disk between periods. When it lands on red, Nick chooses down position. Mickey tries to ride him out, but Nick is too strong. He gets a reversal and cradles her up, exactly like I said he would. She kicks out and gets to her belly, but he still earns two back points before the buzzer. She’s losing 4–2.