Knockout (Gaslight spin-off)

12| Sting like a bee

Wiley and the others get back to training as if nothing had happened. When Hayden and Coach retreat to the office, I follow behind them, slipping through the gap in the door before they can shut me out.

"That was bullshit," I say.

Hayden looks at Coach, clearly perplexed, before reaching behind me and closing the door. "What was bullshit?"

"That whole thing back there. You don't even know if it was Nico, but you were all quick to judge him anyway."

"Hey," Hayden says, "I didn't say anything about Nico."

"Well, you sure didn't jump to his defense when the accusations started flying."

Maybe I'm wrong for being upset – I hardly know the kid – but to me, this isn't about Nico at all; it's about principle. This gym values fairness and has treated us all with the kind of respect we're denied on the outside. So how could they sit there and watch that unfold? What happened to innocent until proven guilty?

Hayden's eyes darken as he takes a step forward. "I have more to worry about than hurting that kid's feelings."

"Okay," I say slowly, "so where was the rest of the announcement?"

"What rest of the announcement?" Coach asks.

"Oh, you know, the part where you mention the gym is closing, and everyone's screwed."

Hayden sighs before extending his hand like he's pacifying a wild animal. "We're not ready to tell anyone that, not until it's finalized."

I take a deep breath. The familiar flicker of anger is back, but maybe there's still a chance to fix this. "I know this sounds naive, but if we market this place right and drum up some interest, I think we can turn this place around."

Hayden's face shadows with resignation. "I don't think that will make up for our debt."

"So, what?" I say. "That's it? Your plan is just to concede?"

"Sometimes conceding is the smart thing to do. Every boxer knows that."

My thoughts rewind to my conversation with Nico. Maybe Hayden's right; maybe the difference between a good boxer and a great one is knowing when to stop, but what if he's wrong? What if the world needs more fighters like Joe, those who know their odds are slim but get back up anyway?

"If you're planning on closing anyway, what's the harm in trying?" I ask. "Just give me a few months. If by the end of it you still need to sell, well, we know we did everything we could to help."

Coach runs a hand down his face. The pair have clearly been up 'till late, no doubt worrying about the gym's future. If I can do something to help, I will.

"I don't know shit about this social media crap," Coach says, "but I do know that Cassie won't stop pestering until she gets her way, so." He turns to Hayden as if to say the ball is in your court.

"All right," Hayden says, "do whatever you want, as long as it doesn't cost us anything."

I grin. "It won't, and I know it might not seem like it right now, but this place will be fine. I'm sure of it."

He shakes his head like he's lost all faith. "We'll see," he says, but the look in his eyes suggests he doesn't quite believe it. It doesn't matter – if there is one thing I've learned in my seventeen years, things don't just happen; you have to go out and make them happen.

That's what I intend to do.

I spend the rest of the evening with my phone glued to my hand, getting footage. I start small, a few artsy shots of some guys lifting weights before moving to the bags. I zoom in on Wiley as he pounds a heavy bag, wishing Nico were here. As steady as Wiley is as he hits a one-two, he doesn't have the same spark as Nico – the kind you can't look away from.

"Here, get my good side," Wiley says. He tilts his head downward, then off to the side like he thinks he's giving me his good angle. In reality, it looks like he's sporting a broken neck.

"Maybe act casual," I say, "and I'll work around you."

"Wait, wait," he says, straightening up. "I've got a good one." He raises his gloves until they're up near his chin and gives me a sultry look. "Quick, now."

I point the camera in his face to pacify him and take a video. "Great work," I say, "you're a natural." Then I hotfoot it over to the ring.

Auden and Jonah are sparring as usual. I hold up my camera to catch them in action, but a round or two later, lower it again to watch them properly. Whoever watches this video – if anyone – will just see two kids who are good for their age, but as Auden circles Jonah, a fire in his eyes that I know all too well, that's not what I see.

I see two boys up in that ring every chance they get. Boys who live and breathe this sport, who stepped in that ring and made it their home because it's better than the one they were given. And that's what breaks my heart the most, what fills my throat with a lump so big, that it's impossible to swallow. What if this plan doesn't work? What if I can't save the gym?

What if I fail?

"Hey," Auden says as he reaches through the ropes, "give it to me. I'll take one of you."

"No way," I say, but he's already pulling my phone from my hands and ushering me forward. I sigh and grab some gloves before sliding between the ropes.

It takes a second for us to get in our stances, but then it's game on. I raise my fists until they block my lower jaw and circle my opponent. For some reason, as I jab a hand forward and catch him on the chin, it's Nico I think of. I channel him, imagining how he dances on his feet, light as a feather. If Muhammad Ali were around right now, I think he'd be cheering me on. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.

That's exactly what I do.

***

By the time I get home, it's late. Mom has left lasagna on the stove, so I preheat the oven and shove it inside before washing my face in the bathroom. All the while, I think of the footage I'd taken tonight and pray it's good enough to gain attention. When my food is ready, I plonk it onto a plate, grab a drink and head up to my room to devour it.

The rest of the night – and early hours of the morning – are dedicated to researching marketing. I scour the internet, googling ways to build a business through a strong social media presence. Still, as someone who doesn't even have a personal Instagram, I am way out of my depth.

Eventually, I put aside my laptop and curl on my side as I think about today's events. I'd like to believe that Nico isn't the one double-crossing the gym, but if he's not, that means someone else at the gym is the one who betrayed us, and somehow, that's worse.

My eyelids grow heavy, my body like deadweight after that quick round with Jonah. As much as I wish I could stay awake and work on my plan, it's not long before I fall to the dark side.

A/N

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