I want to put the so-called Fearsome Threesome nonsense behind me. My mom always says boys will be boys. But that’s a stupid excuse for acting like idiots.
Even though it’s late when I get home from practice, I ask Kenna to video chat.
“It’s an emergency,” I say in my message. We talk while she sketches makeup ideas for the “Thriller” zombies.
“I’m tired of boys,” I tell her. “I can’t get away from them. They’re in my house. They’re on my team. Ugh.”
“Try sharing a bathroom with a five-year-old. He pretends he’s swimming in the bathtub. And he has bad aim,” Kenna jokes.
I laugh. Her little brother Caden is more adorable than annoying.
“Multiply that by fifty,” I say. “I’m one girl in a room full of fifty foul-smelling, sweaty boys.”
“But how’s the wrestling?”
I still feel like I have to prove myself every time I walk into the practice room. I’m still showing them that a girl can work as hard as they do. But I don’t tell Kenna that. I haven’t given up on her. Maybe if I make the Gladiators sound awesome, she’ll come back. “You’d love it. Coach teaches us new moves every week. Cool stuff we never did in rec. Ankle picks and duck unders.”
“Whoa.”
I don’t tell her that I’m afraid to make a mistake. The last thing I need is for Lev, his friends, or anyone else to catch me messing up. I don’t tell her we ran sprints relays for so long the other night, a kid threw up.
“I wish you were coming to rehearse with us,” Kenna says. She holds up a drawing, a bony face with green hanging-off skin and matted hair.
“That looks…horrible. Perfect and horrible.”
Kenna wishes me luck and we sign off. My first competition without her is tomorrow. I miss her like missing the summer when it’s cold outside and you think spring will never come.
The next morning, I feel better about the scrimmage, ready to show Dr. Spence I’m travel team material.
Kenna and Lalita have a surprise for me, a digital file for my phone. They created a playlist of songs to help me get pumped for the tournament. The last track is Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.” While I’m on the mat today, Kenna will be dancing and laughing with Lalita and our middle school friends, but I can’t get upset about it. I’ll save “Thriller” for later.
During the drive to the community center where we have county dual meets, my friends send me texts that say Grrrl Power! and No Mercy.
Mom’s driving. Evan and Cody have a preseason tournament in Pennsylvania and, of course, Dad wanted to go with them.
When we arrive, I check in with Coach Billy, and Mom finds Mrs. Oliver, Isaiah’s mother. It’s not fair that she has a friend on Gladiators and I don’t. My mom collects friends the way normal people collect teapots or action figures.
“How’re you feeling, Mickey?” Coach Billy asks. I can see why Lev and his friends call him Billy the Kid. He’s wearing jeans, a flannel shirt over a Gladiators tee, and a knit cap. Maybe he thinks that goatee makes him seem more mature, but Coach doesn’t look much older than Evan.
“I’m awesome!” I say. But suddenly, I’m sick-to-my-stomach nervous.
“I know you’ve got some history with the Eagles.” Coach Billy glances at Mom. She sends him a little wave and a big smile. Then Coach puts both his hands on my shoulders and looks right in my face. “It’s better to get it over with. You’ll be seeing more of these guys at tournaments once the season starts.”
“Yes, Coach.”
Maybe I’ll feel better if I try talking to Lev before the meet starts. He’s not exactly a friend, but on the Gladiators, he’s all I’ve got. It doesn’t take long for me to spot him sitting on top of the bleachers.
“Nice view,” I say.
“You said that last time.”
“Still true.” Even though it’s not. I’m looking at a sea of blue. Eagles wrestlers cover the mat, warming up and stretching. “How’s the scrimmage going to work?” I ask.
“Same as a regular dual meet,” Lev says.
Dual meets are my favorite part of wrestling. Unlike tournaments, where you compete as an individual athlete, dual meets are two teams’ best wrestlers battling it out. You earn team points for minor decisions in close wins, major decisions when you win by eight points or more, and technical falls when one wrestler is up by so many points that they stop the match. You get the most points for your team if you pin your opponent, so everyone is out for the pin.
When Kenna and I were on the Mustangs, dual meets were so much fun. Because it’s only one match at a time, Coach Brandon lined us up at the side of the mat to watch. We clapped and yelled for our teammates. At tournaments, there are so many matches happening at the same time, it’s hard to feel like a real team.
Lev opens that notebook he’s always carrying and draws a chart for me. “These are the weight classes. One kid from the Gladiators wrestles one Eagle at each of the weights. It’s not like a tournament. Only weight matters, not age. A ten-year-old who weighs 105 could be up against an eighth grader. Although Coach doesn’t usually do that.” He scratches his forehead with his pencil.
“Hold up,” I say. “You wrestle 95, same as me. How come we’re both wrestling today?”
Lev nods. His too-long hair falls in his face, shaggy and brown. “Coach asked me to wrestle up today, so you could get a match in.” He frowns. “I was hoping I’d get to wrestle Nick Spence.”
“You know him?”
“We go to the same school. He hates me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I should be the one hating him. We wrestle each other every year and he always wins. He’s obnoxious about it too.”
“I know kids like that.” When you’re a girl in a boys’ sport, you get to see bad sportsmanship front and center.
Lev sighs. “He knocked me out of a state qualifier last season. I’ve got to beat him this year. Nothing else is going to make him shut up.”
“But why are you wrestling up today? My dad says you never want to wrestle someone who has five pounds on you.”
“We needed someone at a hundred. I know we’re not supposed to keep score at a scrimmage, but Billy the Kid wants to beat the Eagles. Bad. Josh told me he’s not going to forfeit any points.”
“So who are you wrestling?”
“Josh tried to get a look at Coach’s clipboard, but he guards that thing like an armored car.”
I smile. My top lip curls up over my braces. I hate when that happens.
“Hey,” Lev says. He leans in, staring at my face. “Your braces are red and gray.”
“Gladiators colors. I had the bands changed last week.” Every time I look in the mirror and see red and gray on my teeth, it reminds me that I’m a Gladiator now.
“That’s cool. Hey, Josh! Isaiah!” His friends are sitting at the bottom of the bleachers, playing a game on their phones. I follow Lev as he bounces down the steps. “Check out Mickey’s braces,” he says.
I smile for them, which is awkward. Lev’s acting like we’re all friends now and it’s not weird that these kids who weren’t speaking to me three days ago are standing around staring at my mouth. I have never been so happy to hear Coach Billy blow his whistle. “Let’s go, Gladiators!” I jog over to join the team.
Coach tells us a few wrestlers are coming late, so we’re not going in weight class order. Lev has one of the first matches.
“Good luck,” I tell him as he leaves to warm up.
Our team sits in folding chairs set on one side of the mat. The Eagles have matching chairs on the other side.
With Lev warming up, I don’t have anyone to sit with. I try hanging out in the stands with Mom. I wonder if it’s as weird for her as it is for me, competing against Evan and Cody’s old team. It doesn’t look like it. Mom may be angry that Dr. Spence kicked me and Kenna off the Eagles, but the way she’s laughing with her old friends, I guess she doesn’t blame them. I should ask her about it. Did any of Mom’s friends on the Eagles stand up for me, tell Dr. Spence that he was wrong, and girls should be allowed to wrestle? If they did, no one told me.
Mom nudges me out of the bleachers. “Go join your team, Mikayla.”
I take an empty seat at the end of the row, next to the youngest Gladiators. Little guys like Isaiah’s brother Devin don’t care that I’m a girl. They only see another big kid on their team.
I’m sitting close enough to Coach Billy’s corner that I hear his advice to Lev.
“Think about your opponent,” he says. “Your job is to outperform him, not only on the mat, but up here.” Coach taps Lev’s forehead. “Killer instinct.”
Lev looks older with his shaggy hair pushed up under his headgear. His smile is gone. His eyes are intense and focused. I’m surprised that I’m excited. That’s my partner stepping onto the mat.
It reminds me of wrestling rec with Kenna. I’d cheer for the other kids on the Mustangs, but when Kenna was on the mat, my heart beat harder. If she was losing, I almost couldn’t watch. If she was winning, I’d scream myself hoarse.
Lev and the guy from the Eagles shake hands. I still can’t look at the royal-blue singlet, with its gray eagle logo, without thinking, That was supposed to be me.
The ref blows the whistle.
Lev lunges as he grabs his opponent’s leg, but the other boy steps back before he can get a hold.
“Lower your level,” Coach calls.
Lev goes for it again. This time, he owns his opponent’s leg, hugging it tight against his chest.
Across the mat, Dr. Spence watches from his corner. He’s dressed up compared to Coach Billy: khakis, a blue Eagles fleece. Dr. Spence is quiet. Coach Billy is way more into the match. He leans toward the mat, miming the moves he wants Lev to make.
When the Eagles kid loses his balance and puts his hands out to break his fall, Lev is on him. I can’t believe how good he is. I’m screaming, “Go, Lev!”
Isaiah taps me on the shoulder. “Coach says you’re up soon. Come on.”
I warm up, jogging along our side of the mat. My opponent should be warming up too. I try to spot him. I know it’s a him, because, duh, no girls on the Eagles, but the only person near the mat is Nick Spence. As the last seconds of Lev’s match tick down, Nick runs onto the mat holding a rolled-up, duct-taped towel. Sometimes refs get so into what they’re doing, they don’t hear the buzzer. When Nick touches the ref’s shoulder with the towel, he blows his whistle. The match is over. The ref raises Lev’s hand in the air.
Finally, it’s my turn. Parents in the stands shout my name. Mom’s voice pops out of the crowd. “Girl power, Mickey!”
I would be embarrassed, but I’m grinning around my mouth guard. Mom remembered to call me Mickey.
I jog to the center of the mat and try to ignore what’s going on in the Eagles’ corner. The ref is talking to Nick and Coach Spence.
I look at Mom. If she’s noticed something weird is happening, she doesn’t show it. “You got this!” she shouts.
I try to shake the worry out of my head, but now both coaches and the ref are at the judges’ table. They point to the Eagles’ corner, where Nick is standing. Coach Billy’s face is turning bright pink. After weeks of practice, I know what that means. He’s about to start yelling.
Lev waves to me from his seat on the side of the mat. He gives me a thumbs-up. A buzz is building in the stands. Parents are talking, wondering why the match hasn’t started. When the ref calls me to the center of the mat, I’m confused. I think I’m supposed to wrestle Spence, but he’s still in the Eagles’ corner.
The ref takes my hand and holds it high. “Eagles forfeit,” he says.
Coach Spence nods without looking up from his clipboard. Nick tears off his headgear. He looks like he’s about to throw it. If this were a real dual meet, a tantrum like that could get him kicked out. But Nick thinks better of it and jogs off to sit with his team. A little girl in a pink T-shirt comes up behind his chair and wraps her skinny arms around him.
I turn to Coach Billy. “I’m not wrestling today?”
Coach doesn’t answer. He writes something on his clipboard.
“But why? Is he hurt?” I ask.
The next pair of wrestlers is already on the mat, taking their stances. I tug Coach’s sleeve.
“I’m sorry, Mickey. They don’t have to give a reason,” Coach says. “Tell Milo he’s on deck.”
There’s booing from parents in the bleachers. Mostly Gladiators parents, but some Eagles too. They’re not booing me, are they?
I walk off the mat and slump in the chair next to Lev.
“What happened?” he says.
Isaiah leans over Lev to ask me, “Why did Spence forfeit?”
My brain is putting the pieces together. “Same reason they wouldn’t let me join the Eagles, I bet. He doesn’t want to wrestle a girl.”
“That’s not fair,” Lev says. “You train as hard as anyone.”
I take a deep breath. “It’s happened before. Boys did it a couple of times when I wrestled rec.” I can see that Josh, on the other side of Isaiah, is listening too.
“I’ll wrestle you,” Lev says. “We’re both 95 pounds.”
I frown. “Forget it. It’s okay.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod.
Mom is in the bleachers, trying to catch my eye. Her eyebrows shoot up in double question marks. She moves forward, as if she wants to fly out of the stands and rescue me. I stare right at her and shake my head slowly until she sits down. I’ll explain what happened later. Right now, I want to run to the girls’ room and hide. Why did I think this would be a good idea? Why did I think, just because I’m on a different team, the Eagles would let me wrestle?
But I can’t leave. Lev grabs my elbow and says, “We’ll get back at them. We’ve got the whole season.”
For the rest of the meet, Lev cheers on Gladiators wrestlers with our team, but my voice stays stuck in my throat.