Knockout

by K. A. Holt

  before I get to the gym,

  and also it’s nice

  to spy

  on everything

  else.

  (It’s also nice

  to not ask Dad for a ride

  so that way

  he doesn’t know

  just how many visits to the gym

  he’s sponsored

  in the past few days.)

  My glove connects

  because he did not jab.

  Yep.

  I guessed right.

  His head whips to the side

  and I close in

  because right now

  I know

  he isn’t thinking about his next hit,

  he’s thinking about MY next hit

  so I give it to him

  and he’s back against the ropes

  and Coach is yelling

  Wow! Levi!

  Good job!

  Nice moves!

  But his words are a blur

  because my fists

  my feet

  are a symphony

  and I am

  Turning

  Up

  The

  Volume.

  Under my door

  a familiar blue

  says hello.

  I can’t tell him what happened,

  I don’t need him to fix it.

  I’ve already fixed it.

  All by myself.

  I put on the chicken head

  and boy is it hot

  so hot

  oven hot

  baking hot

  sweating

  sweltering

  Fried Levi.

  But I don’t care

  because in this head

  in this suit

  I get to be huge

  bigger than anything

  all eyes on me.

  Kate is looking for me this time,

  her falcon head swivels, slow motion

  her wing points at me

  as I run

  fly

  down the stairs in the stands,

  as I leap onto the field.

  She squawks

  flaps,

  I squawk

  flap

  hop

  leap

  The crowd . . .

  the crowd!

  They’re on their feet

  laughing and cheering.

  Kate runs at me.

  I dodge her

  (thanks, boxing!).

  Coach Ellison is after me now,

  she squawks loud, too,

  as I zigzag free

  along the sidelines

  players slapping my shoulders,

  laughing so hard

  coaches steamed, yelling.

  I stop.

  In one glorious moment

  drop my pants

  show the stands

  the full moon

  is mine

  tonight.

  And then I’m gone.

  Chicken head lost to the wind.

  And as I laugh hard

  I hear the cheering

  all the way

  from the shed.

  There’s still plenty of time

  until mascot tryouts.

  Plenty of time

  teasing Kate on the field.

  Plenty of time

  before my audition kills

  and everyone sees it’s me . . .

  the big reveal!

  Kids come up to Kate

  all through lunch

  they think she’s in on it,

  that she and the chicken head

  have created a skit.

  Her mouth is tight.

  She doesn’t say anything.

  But I’m smiling.

  And Tam and I talk about

  dumb things

  fun things

  and it’s almost like Kate

  isn’t there

  at all.

  I’m really good.

  No, I don’t think we have time

  for a whole game.

  I need to rest my brain.

  But

  some day.

  I will smoke you, Mom.

  You’ll see all my trickiest chess moves.

  Just not today.

  Is that OK?

  No, it’s not too much.

  Practice makes perfect, right?

  Same goes for lying.

  Just breathe, Levi.

  Stay cool.

  Stay cool.

  Mom will never guess

  not in a million years

  you’re boxing

  instead of

  playing chess.

  Dad called the house

  which he never does.

  He’s yelling

  but I can’t talk.

  Mom’ll hear everything.

  This bill!

  Levi!

  My god!

  What have you—

  I can’t even—

  I guess going to boxing

  more than twice a month

  costs a lot more

  than I thought.

  Mom is staring

  Timothy is staring

  I just swallow

  say nothing

  hope they can’t hear the yelling

  about all the money he’s spent

  and how next week he is

  personally

  walking

  me

  in

  and talking

  to the

  coach.

  I say, OK.

  I say, See you then.

  Hang up the phone

  so fast

  you might think

  it was on fire.

  What was that all about?

  Look who suddenly appears!

  Look who’s all ears!

  The mystery brother, formerly known as Timothy.

  What did he want?

  I deflect Timothy’s questions

  just like we’re boxing.

  Even more practice

  for becoming the

  fly-fly-flyweight

  champion of the world.

  Timothy’s journal is on my desk.

  Again.

  I open it.

  Again.

  What do I say

  to something like that?

  I know he’ll listen,

  just . . .

  what is it called

  when you want to talk

  but your feelings are all jumbled

  and you don’t know what to say?

  Aargh.

  What even IS that?

  I write:

  And this part, I write

  then erase

  then write again:

  Get in the car.

  Little beard hairs shake.

  Dad is so mad.

  I’m glad you like boxing, Levi,

  but, Sport,

  I said no to more practices

  I said no.

  I look at the floor.

  There’s no money for this.

  You’ll have to work it off.

  You better think of a plan.

  You’re going to have to talk to Coach.

  Levi!

  Coach’s face breaks out

  into a big fat smile

  C’mon, killer, let’s see what you’ve got.

  And we shadowbox

  around the lobby.

  I’m fast.

  So fast.

  Practice makes

  perfect.

  It only takes a second

  for me to forget

  Dad is even there.

  But he sucks in his breath,

  loud.

  I don’t know

  if he’s ever

  looked at me like that,

  his eyes

  wide

  his hand strokes his beard

  like he is some supersmart

  actual lumberjack

  and he says

&nbs
p; Jeez, Levi

  Am I gonna have to take out a second mortgage?

  Coach goes up to him

  I hear money, tight

  I hear working, gym

  I hear towels, wash

  I hear hate to lose him

  I hear talented

  They shake hands

  both look at me

  and now I’m Coach’s servant, I guess

  but I don’t care.

  Bye, Dad!

  I wave as I run to the locker room

  and Dad’s face

  his face

  I wish I had a picture

  of that proud

  mouth

  in a wide open

  O

  (And I try not to think about

  how he wanted me to do this

  but how surprised he is

  I’ve actually done it.)

  If you lived in a tent

  under someone’s armpit

  that would be

  a one hundred percent accurate match

  for this locker room.

  Hey, Davidson, you’re back.

  The huge kid looms over me.

  Ready for a match?

  I smile

  chew my mouth guard

  look him up and down.

  I don’t know

  I say,

  wrapping my hands.

  I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.

  The guys all laugh,

  but I’m not kidding.

  Here’s the thing about boxing:

  I thought it would be all about smashing noses

  and being smashed.

  But boxing is not that

  at all.

  It’s about feeling your world

  tighten into a pinprick

  of just you

  and your opponent.

  It’s about quick feet,

  and quicker thinking.

  It’s like chess,

  but with your body.

  All movement.

  Strategy.

  It sounds weird to say this,

  but

  with boxing?

  There is, like,

  beauty.

  Coach steps between us,

  ends the sparring,

  one hand on my sweaty shoulder

  the other on my opponent’s.

  Nice fight.

  He nods.

  You’re a little beast, Davidson.

  My opponent smiles,

  takes off his headgear,

  shakes his sweat in my face.

  Gross.

  But I laugh

  because that guy?

  He’s like ten times sweatier than I am.

  I could do this all day.

  Let’s play.

  First time I’ve seen Timothy

  in days.

  He has a chessboard in a box

  under his arm.

  No thanks.

  He looks surprised.

  It’s just,

  I say

  walking backwards toward my room,

  my eyes

  they’re fried

  so tired.

  I think I’ll rest.

  He looks confused.

  Even though I want to hang out.

  Even though I miss him,

  I’m terrible at chess.

  He’d know in a heartbeat

  if we started a game.

  He’d know in a flash

  Chess Club is fake.

  Another Friday night.

  This time I tell Mom

  I have a chess match.

  Oh! Levi! Exciting!

  Can I come watch?

  I’ll be too nervous.

  Maybe next time?

  Where is it?

  I’ll drive you.

  It’s at school.

  I can walk.

  Don’t be silly, Levi.

  Get in the car.

  So now we’re driving

  to my fake chess match

  on the dark side of the school,

  instead of me running

  towards the Friday night lights

  where my chicken head

  is waiting for me.

  You’re sure it’s tonight?

  Mom squints.

  Looks pretty dark.

  I’ll be fine!

  Thanks for the ride!

  I hop out of the car and run.

  The shadows hide me

  while her car idles.

  She won’t leave

  until she knows I’m safe.

  It’s OK!

  I swear!

  The chess room is right down there.

  I point to a window

  with one light on.

  Mom seems suspicious

  but she nods,

  drives away.

  And then I run

  all the way to the shed

  to find my head

  so I can get to the game.

  Through the chicken head

  I see Tam in the stands

  right by the sidelines

  cheering Kate,

  sitting with people

  I don’t know.

  I run to them

  grab a kid’s popcorn

  throw a kernel in the air

  catch it in my beak

  make everyone laugh

  (except for the kid

  and Tam).

  Then I fling myself

  to the field.

  Kate rips off her falcon head

  starts to yell.

  I mimic her moves

  (but keep the chicken head on)

  bigger,

  sillier,

  the crowd goes wild.

  Except for Tam,

  she’s on her feet,

  her hands on her hips.

  She’s not laughing.

  I flap my arms and get off the field.

  Coach Ellison didn’t chase me.

  I didn’t even see her

  weird.

  I’m sweating

  when I get to the old shed.

  I toss in the head

  toss in the legs

  take two puffs

  feel my lungs clear

  that’s when I hear the cough

  but it’s not mine for once.

  It’s from the back.

  It’s from the dark.

  I turn to run,

  but it’s too late.

  Coach Ellison steps out of the shadows,

  arms crossed tight.

  I’m breathing enough air for ten people

  but I can’t stop opening and closing my mouth

  I need a word puffer

  because my sounds are all lost.

  Put that back where it belongs.

  No more chicken head, Levi.

  You’re done.

  No sound comes out

  my mouth

  gasping for words.

  Coach Ellison walks past

  turns around

  I guess I’ll be seeing you

  in the principal’s office Monday?

  The phone rings

  very early

  Monday morning.

  I leap up

  trip out of bed

  stumble fast

  into the hall

  try to

  beat Mom—

  Mom: Hello?

  Yes, this is she.

  Hmm?

  What?!

  Her eyes turn to me

  wide

  then

  slits

  Oh really.

  Oh REALLY.

  Yes, I will be there.

  Thank you for calling.

  The phone goes click

  back in its base.

  Mom turns to me,

  red crawls into her cheeks

  anger crawls into her words

  Get dressed, you.

  Now.

  And that quiet voice,

  it’s the one saved for mean doctors

  and
insurance companies on the phone

  not

  usually

  for

  me.

  Uh-oh.

  Driving to school

  Mom keeps looking at me.

  Finally

  I say

  What?

  Half her mouth smiles.

  You stole a chicken costume.

  Really?

  I nod,

  my mouth opens

  happiness flies out of me

  as I describe

  running in the stands

  making everyone laugh

  being crazy

  being alive.

  Mom’s eyes on the road,

  her voice soft now

  I would’ve never dared to think,

  Levi,

  you’d be so big now.

  I would’ve never dared to dream.

  Her hand shoots out

  grabs my knee

  gives it a squeeze.

  You’re still in trouble

  she says,

  pointing at me now.

  But wow, Levi.

  Just . . . look at you.

  Wow.

  One million detentions.

  Basically

  every day

  after school

  helping Coach Ellison

  doing whatever she says.

  Mom isn’t happy.

  Principal McGee isn’t happy.

  I am not happy.

  And now I have to apologize

  to Kate

  and the whole

  entire

  school.

  My face burns

  my chest is tight

  I hold the microphone

  look at the speaker in the wall

  where my voice will carry through

  the halls

  try to break it

  with my brain.

  Hi, everyone.

  My voice cracks.

  I clear my throat.

  This is Levi Davidson.

  I want to say I’m sorry

  I borrowed the chicken head

  and disrupted the cheerleaders

  and I’m sorry to Kate, the true Falcon,

  for everything.

  I apologize.

  Thank you, Levi.

  Principal McGee is very serious.

  She looks me up and down.