EPILOGUE

I finally made it to the top of the Arch. It was September and I no longer had to wear an ankle bracelet, so as a way to celebrate my sixteenth birthday, Dad thought we should do something fun for a change. We were still struggling as a family but, despite everything, my parents were there for me. We were never gonna be one big happy unit—we were too flawed and broken in our own ways for that. But I think it brought us closer together. Maybe pain really was a gift in that way.

The top of the Arch was a narrow curved room with windows on both sides and slopes to lie on as you gazed out. I’d invited Destiny, who smuggled Boner inside her jacket. We lay down together by the middle window and when I saw how high we were, it took my breath away.

It was impossibly beautiful up there. The river was beaming under the late summer sun. Ships made their way up and down the Big Muddy like little toys in a rain puddle.

Boner licked my hand. Sometimes, Destiny brought him over to keep me company at night. She knew I had a hard time sleeping. Every night when the lights went out, I thought of Mrs. Lee and felt the hollow in the pit of my stomach. Some nights, I cried myself to sleep. Other nights, I’d lie there in the dark, thinking of Joe, all alone.

I don’t think that kind of regret ever goes away—you don’t forget things like that.

At least I can’t.

“Look how tiny those people are down there,” Dad said, lying next to Mom in front of a window.

“They look like tiny toy figures,” said Mom.

“They look like ants,” I said, winking at Destiny. I was no longer angry at the ants. They all had worries and pains. I was no different in that way.

“Dang,” said Destiny as she switched windows. “You can see everything up here. That’s the stadium. And there’s the freeway we came on. Hey, isn’t that our school way over there?”

Our school. That sounded good to me. I was back, starting over as a sophomore again. But this time, I played it differently. I grew my hair long, stopped hiding behind a hoodie, showed off more of my curves. I didn’t care what anybody thought of me. I was doing my own thing.

Sitting up there in the Arch, high above the world, I tried to imagine all the incoming middle schoolers out there, roaming the neighborhoods, looking to impress the older kids. I knew that the TKO Club was disbanded. But every once in a while, I’d hear about some idiot playing Knockout. It seemed amazing to me, after everything that had happened, that anyone would be stupid enough to copycat. But I guess nobody remembers anything for long.

Some kids end up in gangs, some become bullies, some hit random strangers.

But if I ever hear of another Knockout King in my neighborhood, they’ll have me to deal with. And that’s a promise I intend to keep.

The King is dead.

Long live the Queen.