Chapter One
Lydia Dunst
"Left, right, jab," Coach Dunst ordered. I repeated what he said, each time punching the air while watching Jackson do the combinations perfectly. "Good, Jackson. Again and keep repeating." Left, right, jab, left, right, jab. I repeated until my arms felt like rubber and my breath hitched. I put everything into each punch. "All right, get a drink and we'll work on some different combinations."
I sat on the cold floor and poured water in my mouth. The cold felt nice against my warm, sweaty body. I laid back, watching my chest rise and fall with every gasp. My lungs were too greedy to hesitate, in spite of the scents of hard work and determination mixed in the air.
Jackson sat on the bench opposite me drenching himself in water. He was the newest boxer to join the club, trained by Coach Dunst's partner Daniel Sommers but, until he returned from vacationing in the Bahamas, Jackson was training with me.
"Back on your feet." Coach blew the whistle and Jackson held out his hand, helping me up. "I want the uppercut perfected and then followed by a hook. Speed is key but you also want to have accuracy. Remember that." Uppercut, hook, speed, accuracy. "Good, keep going. I'll be back and then we'll switch to the bags."
"Why are we doing this? I already know how to do this." I groaned. We were doing the basics, things I learned when I had just started boxing. It seemed pointless.
"If you want to be great, you have to know the basics like the back of your hand, like it's second nature. I don't want you to have to think before you react and block, I want you to just block," he explained, using his I'm giving a speech, voice. "You have to train like you're not great. I can't have you getting cocky on me."
With that, he left the room. I stopped when he walked out of view, trying to control my breathing as I peeled the velcro off my wrist. The moment my gloves were off, I wiped the sweat that had collected on my forehead.
"Don't stop now, Lydia," Jackson teased, punching my arm lightly.
"Says the one who's good at this." It was a joke. Sort of.
"Just because Coach doesn't say it doesn't mean he doesn't think it. He probably just doesn't want to because he's afraid you'll think he's going easy on you. You know, because you're a girl and all."
This time I punched him.
He convinced me to put my gloves back on and continue the endless pattern. Left, right, jab.
"All right, let's move on to the bags. Remember to change your weight from your back leg to your front as you punch. Jab, cross, lead uppercut," Coach ordered. "Switch it up every now and then."
I was physically exhausted but I kept going, keeping my head in it. Jab, cross--
"Lydia, keep your feet moving, side to side, backwards, forwards at all times."
I sighed, collected myself and started again.
"You're doing good," Jackson whispered. I nodded. Jab, cross, lead uppercut.
"If you're going to be sloppy, there's no sense in doing it," Coach said harshly. To me, specifically. "That's it for today."
Jackson gave me a whole hearted smile, going through the combination one last time before retreating into the boys' locker room.
I poured the rest of the water left in my bottle over my face.
"I'll see you at home, Lydia," Coach finished and shut the door to his office.
--
"Hey, honey." My nana was waiting in the kitchen while my grandpa was cooking dinner. "Supper's almost ready."
"Hi, Nana." I tried to put a smile on my face.
"What's wrong, dear?" Nana never called me by my name unless I was in trouble.
"Nothing's wrong. I'm just tired," I lied.
"Why don't you go and take a quick shower? It'll make you feel better."
"Are you saying I smell bad?" I joked, dropping my gym bag at the front door before smelling my pits. "Because I do smell bad."
"Yes, you do." Nana laughed with me. "Now go take that shower."
I turned the corner and walked down the hall to the stairs. Living with my grandparents was nice. My dad and I could live in a nice house and have a good life in spite of his low income. I had everything I could have wanted. A big room, a basement that had been renovated into a home gym, and a fridge my nana was always sure to keep stocked. My room was in the far corner with an ensuite bathroom that connected to a guest room.
I turned on the water, finding a decently cool temperature and quickly found a change of clothes. When I took showers, I always blasted music. While I cooled off, it got me out of my own head, which was what I needed sometimes, especially after sessions at the gym.Once I was dry, I changed into sweats and turned off the music before rushing down in time for dinner.
"You can't be so harsh on her, Kirkland. She's not just another one of your boxers. She's also your daughter." Nana was the only one who seemed to see right through my facade.
"She has to be ready, Ma. Going into the ring is dangerous. I just have to prepare her for anything." He had to realize that I wasn't going to be his little girl forever. I was my own person, after all.
"Hey, Liddy," Coach said as I walked into the room, interrupting their conversation. I sat down at the table, ready for supper. All the exercise had me hungry for seconds before I had firsts.
"Hi, Coach."
"You know you don't have to call me Coach at home." He laughed and I sat down, running my hands through my wet hair. At home, he was a completely different person.
"Oops, I meant Dad."
With a small smile, he nodded. "That's better," he said with a wink. "You know I love you, right?"
"Yeah, I know." We had my Dad's favorite for supper -- steak and potatoes. I prefered chicken. Anything else was just too chewy unless cooked in the slow cooker. "Casen's coming over tonight," I mentioned, earning a worried gaze from my father.
"Just keep the door open, Liddy."
I groaned at his ability to sexualize everything. He was so paranoid. "We're just friends." But I understood why he was worried. Casen was a nice looking guy and I tended to go for those kinds. Still, I just wanted him to trust me.
"I've heard that before." He was right; he had heard me say that before.
"It was one time." I couldn't help but laugh. It really lightened the mood, although I still wanted to punch him in the face. "Can I be excused?"
"Yeah, of course, honey," my nana answered. I brought my plate over to the sink as the doorbell rang. Casen let himself in like always and strutted down the hall.
"Those sweatpants--" He held his hand up, giving me the perfection sign. "--look super sexy."
"And you said you were just friends."
I froze and Casen slowly removed his hand from around my waist. My dad was standing behind us.
"Sis," Casen covered, hitting my shoulder. I went along with it, hitting him back, harder.
"Bro."
Casen and I acted that way all the time, but it didn't mean we liked each other. It just meant we were way too comfortable in each other's presence. Like brother and sister.
"Do you want to play some pool? I want to play some pool." I took Casen's hand and pulled him into the den, where we were free of my Dad's company.
"I thought he was going to have my head."
I laughed. Casen looked tough but he was a marshmallow on the inside and a bit of a scaredy cat.
"Nah, you're fine," I teased, setting up the balls inside the rack and handing Casen a pool stick.
"How are things with your dad anyway?" he asked, prying into my personal life but that was Casen for you. Always putting his butt places his butt really shouldn't be.
"It's interesting, like always. He just... I don't even know how to describe it. He's always acknowledging how good everyone else is, and I'm good, too."
"You are good and you don't need anybody telling you so." He nudged my arm.
"Let's just play some pool."
Casen rolled his eyes. "In other words, shut up, Casen!" he said in a high-pitched voice, obviously to mimic me, except he sounded so silly when he tried. "But no can do, sis." He winked. "You sure about boxing, Lydia? 'Cause I can see you working as a boss or something. I think you'd do really well."
I narrowed my eyes, trying not to seem amused by his teasing, then stuck my tongue out at him. "Whatever." He may have been annoying and conceited but I was glad he was my friend. He never failed to lift my spirits.