I feel bad about beating Mickey like that at her first tournament. Teching her felt like I was showing off. But she told me not take it easy on her.
I ended up taking third place. Not bad for my first competition of the season. I’m on the path to States.
December is a blur. We have Gladiators practice three nights a week, dual meets and tournaments every weekend. Bryan knows the next few weeks are all about mat time, adding wins to my record, learning from my losses. When I have a free afternoon, we work on our mythology projects together. Other than that, we don’t see each other outside of school, but Bryan says he’s used to it.
One night, after warm-ups, Coach Billy calls us to the center of the mat for a demonstration. “We’re doing an advanced spin drill, men,” he says.
Mickey elbows me. “Men?”
I elbow her back. “Shut up. Listen.”
We’ve always done spin drills the same way. Bottom man stays in referee’s position while the top wrestler moves from his legs, his chest skimming his partner’s back as he spins.
Coach Billy tries to explain the new drill, but kids keep raising their hands and asking questions. Coach’s face is turning red. He’s going to blow any second. Then Isaiah’s mom comes up and puts a hand on Billy the Kid’s elbow. I widen my eyes at Isaiah. His mom is fearless.
“Coach?” she says. “Why don’t you ask for two volunteers to demonstrate?”
Coach Billy is shocked that she interrupted him, but he nods. “Good idea.”
I raise my hand to volunteer. When Coach points at me, I grab Josh and we walk to the center of the circle.
“Josh, Lev, you’re at neutral,” Coach Billy says. “We’re going to do this at half speed. Lev, start with a single leg takedown.”
Josh lets me shoot and grab his right knee.
“Normally, Lev trips Josh’s standing foot with his attacking leg,” Coach Billy says. It feels strange to move this slow. “You gonna let Sofer have that, Josh?” Coach shouts. “Hop those legs back, hard. Lev’s head’ll come down. Now push down on his shoulders and sprawl, feet apart.”
Josh spins around me to get the takedown. Coach doesn’t even have to explain it to him.
“Did everyone see that? That was perfect! Feet apart. Never on your knees. You can’t move from your knees. Let’s go again. This time, Lev, you’re moving too. When Josh tries to spin, match his motion and keep your head in his gut.”
Josh and I smile at each other. We set in neutral again. “We’re doing it for real this time. Match speed,” Coach tells us.
I grab the leg. Josh hops back in a sprawl. He slaps two palms hard against my shoulders. My head comes up, crack, against his chin.
“Whoa,” Coach calls, putting a hand on Josh’s back. “Easy, you two. We’re demonstrating.”
I sit on my heels. That’s when I see blood dripping from Josh’s mouth. He covers his chin and lips with his hand.
Coach Billy kneels down in front of Josh. “Let me see.”
I lean forward. “What happened?” My eyes prickle.
Josh moves his hand away. “Bit my tongue,” he mumbles.
“Andrea!” Coach calls. Mrs. Oliver comes out on the mat with a first-aid kit. The room is quiet, except for a few whispers. “Blood time,” Coach says, spinning a finger in the air, the way refs do when a wrestler is injured. “Partner up, everyone. Sit-ups, mountain climbers, push-ups. Find a spot. Go.”
Isaiah and Mickey pull me out to the hallway.
“Where are we going? Is Josh okay?”
“My mom’s a nurse,” Isaiah says. “She’ll take care of him.”
“Why are we out here? I have to see if he’s okay.”
“There’s blood in your hair,” Mickey says. “You need to rinse it off. You clocked him pretty hard.”
“Yeah,” Isaiah says. “Your skull is like an anvil.”
I touch the top of my head. It’s sore where I hit Josh’s chin. When I look at my fingers, I see blood.
“Stop freaking out,” Mickey says. She puts an arm around my shoulders. “I bit my tongue one time when I was wrestling with my brothers. Tongues can bleed a lot, even from a little cut.”
They help me wash up in the bathroom sink. Isaiah cracks a joke about Mickey being in the boys’ room, but it’s not funny. I didn’t mean to hurt Josh. When he slapped my shoulders, my head popped up. It was automatic.
Josh sits out the rest of practice, holding paper towels to his mouth. “I’m fine,” he tells me. “Got all my teeth, see?”
But when I get home that night, I can’t sleep. Abba must see that my light is on. He comes in and sits on my bed.
“What is it?”
“I’ve been having nightmares.”
“You want to talk about it?”
I put my head back on the pillow and close my eyes. “It’s about a river. I have to walk across a log bridge. There’s someone at the other end and he wants me to wrestle, but the log isn’t that wide, and the water’s far below.” I feel my heart pounding, remembering the dream.
“Then what?” Abba asks. “Do you wrestle?”
I shake my head. “I fall.”
“Scooch over,” Abba says. He lies down next to me and turns out the bedside light. “Mrs. Oliver told me what happened at practice. How’s your head?”
I rub the spot where my skull met Josh’s chin. “Sore.”
“Josh will be fine. No spicy food for a couple of days.”
“Not funny, Abba.”
“Go to sleep. It’s going to be fine.”