“Yeah. That was terrible.”
“Very.”
“I’m never escaping that, am I?”
“No.”
“Fair.”
They laughed.
Brandon carried the trash outside.
Frank looked at Mia.
“What are you thinking?”
Mia looked around the gym.
“That Dad would’ve liked this place.”
Frank nodded.
“I would’ve liked to meet him.”
“He probably would’ve argued with you.”
“About?”
“Everything.”
Frank smiled.
“Definitely would’ve liked him.”
Mia reached beneath her burgundy jacket.
A small metal object hung on a thin chain around her neck.
Daniel Lawson’s old military challenge coin.
She rarely showed it.
She held it between her fingers.
“He gave me this when I was thirteen.”
Frank looked but did not touch.
“He said one day I’d understand that everything you train disappears if your character fails.”
Frank nodded slowly.
“Sounds right.”
“I thought he meant fear.”
“What do you think now?”
Mia looked toward the place where she had fallen.
“Ego.”
Frank smiled.
“Usually is.”
That spring, Mia received an acceptance letter from Northwestern University.
She screamed so loudly that Rachel thought someone had been injured.
Mia planned to study physical therapy.
Frank insisted she continue helping with youth classes.
Brandon began competing again, but something had changed in the way he fought.
He stopped taunting opponents.
Stopped celebrating excessively.
After one close loss, he walked across the ring and raised his opponent’s hand.
When Frank asked why, Brandon shrugged.
“Apparently character matters.”
Frank smiled.
“Who told you that?”
“Some annoying seventeen-year-old.”
Mia threw a towel at him.
Kayla earned her first belt promotion.
She asked Mia to tie the belt.
Mia did.
“You remember what you told me?” Kayla asked.
“I say a lot of smart things.”
Kayla rolled her eyes.
“That everybody is weak compared to somebody.”
“Oh.”
“I hated that.”
“I know.”
“I get it now.”
Mia tightened the belt.
“Good.”
Kayla looked toward the older students.
“Do you think I’ll be strong someday?”
Mia smiled.
“You already are.”
Kayla looked confused.
“I thought you said—”
“I changed my definition.”
Nearly one year after the night Brandon swept her onto the mat, Mia stood in the same place.
The gym was crowded again.
Heavy bags moved.
Fighters trained.
Frank shouted corrections.
Brandon complained about conditioning drills.
Kayla practiced footwork with another teenager.
Nothing looked extraordinary.
That was the beautiful part.
Mia tightened her brown hand wraps.
A new student stood nearby.
A sixteen-year-old boy.
Nervous.
Skinny.
Clearly intimidated by the advanced students.
He watched Brandon hitting pads and whispered:
“I don’t think I belong here.”
Mia heard him.
She walked over.
“What’s your name?”
“Eli.”
“You trained before?”
“No.”
“You scared?”
He hesitated.
“A little.”
Mia nodded.
“Good.”
He looked confused.
“Good?”
“Means you’re paying attention.”
She pointed toward an empty section of mat.
“Come on.”
“I’m probably terrible.”
“You will be.”
Eli stared at her.
Mia smiled.
“Everybody is at first.”
He laughed nervously.