Knockout (Gaslight spin-off)

37| Bad things come in threes

The few days after the funeral are a blur. I don't return to the gym – it makes it too hard not to think about Coach – so I hole up in my bedroom and try to come to terms with what happens next.

For months, the only thing I've focused on is fighting Katarina. Now the time has come, but the thought of stepping into that ring knowing Coach won't be there is unbearable, and that's why, no matter how much it hurts, I can't do it.

I sigh and glance at the clock on the nightstand. It's noon, which means despite the fact I still feel exhausted, I drag myself out of bed.

As I approach the kitchen, Mom and Cody's voices grow louder. Pushing open the door, I step into the warm and bright room, which feels strange after lying in the dark for so long. Sunlight pours through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating every corner of the kitchen and casting a golden glow on the wooden floorboards.

Mom and Cody are at the counter, surrounded by puzzle pieces of various shapes and colors. They're deep in concentration, but as soon as they see me, they pause and glance at one another as if caught doing something wrong.

"Morning, honey," Mom says, even though it's afternoon, "want to help?"

I walk over to the counter and peer over their shoulders, watching as they deftly fit the pieces together. The puzzle depicts a vibrant cityscape with tall skyscrapers and bustling streets.

For a brief moment, it feels like I'm finally awake. I can hear and feel everything, from birds chirping outside to the cool breeze wafting in from the open windows. I want to sit down for a second and return to being a kid: no fights, no dead coaches, no anger issues. Just me, Cody, and Mom, like old times.

"Okay." I sit opposite them at the table and scan through the puzzle pieces to find the right one for the corner. My mother smiles and resumes scanning the parts. While our relationship isn't perfect, she's been on her best behavior since the funeral, keeping all comments to herself.

"Have you looked at GymCon's Instagram lately?" she says. "There's been hundreds of new comments."

I hadn't – not since last night when I uploaded Coach's picture. I pull out my phone and click on GymCon's Instagram to see that it's received thousands of likes. World's Best Coach, the caption reads. Never forgotten.

"Your announcement post about the fight got a boost, too," she says, almost giddy. "I'm thinking we hire a makeup artist for the fight. Maybe our own professional photographer to shoot it."

I ignore her and scroll through the announcement post, surprised by how many people are rooting for a girl they've never met, but deep down, I know this sudden interest in the fight isn't down to me but Coach.

Coach would be proud, one reads.

You've got this, reads another.

We're rooting for you!

My throat thickens as I scroll through the rest of them, suddenly ready to cry. Maddie was supposed to have canceled the fight, but obviously, it slipped her mind. "It's too late," I say to Mom, putting my phone down. "I'm not fighting anymore. I told Gymcon I quit."

Her eyebrows furrow, and she puts down her puzzle piece to lean across the table, wearing her, I mean business, face. "But you can't quit," she says, and not because she believes in boxing or wants me to fight, but because to her, appearance is everything. You don't quit something once you've committed. You don't back down. God knows she never has. "You already told everyone you'd do it."

"Well, I'm going to untell them."

Sensing we're on the verge of an argument, Cody sighs and disappears to his bedroom. Mom gets to her feet and walks around the island, folding her arms at me; I have a feeling Cody is right.