Mom says I can invite Kenna and Mrs. Franklin to the girls’ tournament. I should have invited Lev too. He finally wrote back to me. It was only one word, but maybe if I’d invited him, he would have said yes.
I’ve never been to an all-female tournament before. The gym is filled with girls. They’re braiding each other’s hair in the stands, drilling together on the mat. I see girls with compression shirts under their singlets, some with pink boots like mine, and more than one Wrestle Like a Girl T-shirt.
When Coach Billy walks in, Mom sighs. “He’s so cute.”
“Ew. Mom, that’s my coach.” I do not like the grin on her face. “Lev and Isaiah call him Billy the Kid.”
Mom tilts her shoulder to her cheek. “Still cute,” she says. “Don’t worry. He’s too young for me.”
Coach spots us. When he shakes Mom’s hand, I glare at her. She’d better not embarrass me. She gives me a wink.
“Ready to get out there and crush these girls, Mickey?” Coach asks.
When he says “crush,” I stifle a giggle. I bet he has no idea my mom has a crush on him.
I take out my headgear and shoes. Next to us on the bleachers, a group of refs is reviewing the rule book. There are at least eight of them: old, young, black, white, an Asian guy, but not one woman.
“Girls are more flexible,” one of them says. “You’ll see ’em twist out of a pinning combination that’d end the match for a boy.”
I spot a girl sitting alone on top of the bleachers. She looks friendly enough. I’m going to go for it.
“Nice view,” I say when I get up there.
She smiles and closes her book, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. It’s my favorite in the series. I like her already. Now that I’m up here, the girl looks a little older than me. She’s Indian, maybe. Her skin is more olive than Kenna’s. Her hair hangs down her back in a thick, dark braid.
“My partner and I like to sit up here too,” I tell her.
“Where is she?” the girl asks.
“He. I’m the only girl on my team.”
“There are two of us on my team,” she says, “but the other girl is my sister, and she’s only seven.” She points out a little girl in a purple singlet. “I drill with a boy too.”
“I’m Mikayla.” It feels strange, saying my full name. When I’m wrestling, I tell people I’m Mickey. But with no boys around, I can be my real self. Dad’s not here, so I don’t have anything to prove. Today, I get to wrestle because that’s what I love to do.
The girl smiles again. “I’m Supriya. We drove down from Connecticut last night.”
“Connecticut? Isn’t that like five hours away?”
“Six! My dad said we couldn’t pass this up. He’s my wrestling coach. He coached my brother too, but he’s in high school now. My father didn’t want to give up the team, so my sister and I joined.”
“Want to warm up?”
Supriya and I jump off the bleachers. We jog around the mats together, then find our bracket sheets. There are only five girls in my age and weight class.
Supriya waves good-bye to get ready for her first match as Kenna and her mom walk in. They have a surprise for me. Lalita is here too.
I give them all a gigantic hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Kenna’s in jeans and her Mustangs Wrestling T-shirt from rec league. Seeing our old team logo makes me smile.
It’s clear Lalita has never been to a wrestling tournament before. Even though it’s almost February, she’s going to be way too hot in that fluffy blue sweater and thick black leggings. Her eyes are bugging out. “There are so many people here,” she says. “I thought you were like the only girl wrestler in the state.”
Kenna and I laugh. I introduce my friends to Coach Billy. Lalita sits with the moms, but Kenna comes with me and Coach as we scout out the wrestlers in my bracket.
“I hear you used to wrestle, Kenna,” Coach says. “We could use a few more girls on the Gladiators. Mickey’s got her hands full.”
Kenna says, “I’ve heard about the stinky, sweaty boys.” That makes Coach laugh.
“I told you he’s nice,” I whisper, as we follow Coach Billy across the gym and watch one of the matches.
“This girl right here, she’s winning, but she’s a defensive wrestler,” Coach tells us. “She waits for her opponent to make a move, then—BAM!—scoops up the leg when the other girl is off-balance.” Coach looks at me. “How do you handle a defensive wrestler?”
“First shot, best shot.”
Coach knows what he’s talking about. In my first bout, I come out strong against the defensive wrestler and catch her by surprise.
The ref is lying on the mat next to us. I push her shoulders down and look up at him. Is he going to give me the pin? The buzzer sounds. The ref holds up three fingers and touches them to his back, awarding me three points. I’ll take the W. My bracket’s so small that one win puts me in the championship round.
“That was amazing!” Lalita says after the match.
“You’ve gotten so fast,” Kenna says. “I could never wrestle with you now.”
My next opponent is from a Pennsylvania team. Coach Billy says, “They’re well trained. She’s going to be tough. Push yourself and keep fighting.”
I step onto the mat and put on the green cuff, glad to have my lucky color. Maybe it’s a sign that this is my moment.
The Pennsylvania wrestler gets me with an ankle pick in the first few seconds. I manage to move out of bounds. The ref sweeps his arms to the side, whistles, and calls us to reset in the middle. He holds up his red cuff with three fingers raised. It’s not even the end of the first period, and I’m down 5–0.
“Keep it together,” Coach calls out. “No quitting.”
Delgados aren’t quitters, I tell myself.
The ref flips his coin. Red is face up. My opponent chooses down position. I try everything—chopping her arm, sinking a half—but she breaks my hold and gets the escape. Another point for her.
I take neutral stance and tell myself not to panic. If I can’t overpower this girl, maybe I can outsmart her. I fake a shot to the leg. She moves to block me, and I spin her to the ground, shoulders first.
“Takedown. Two!” the ref shouts.
She’s on her back and I’m on top. She’s not a defensive wrestler. Instead of bridging her stomach to the ceiling to knock me off, she panics and kicks wildly. It’s too late. The ref hits the mat. The bout is over.
“Woo-hoo!” Coach yells, pumping a fist in the air. “You know why you won? Undefeated spirit. You didn’t let the points get in your head.”
My cheering squad—Mom, Mrs. Franklin, Kenna, and Lalita—are jumping up and down in the stands. I think the moms might be crying.
Supriya from Connecticut finds me when the awards are handed out. We take a picture of both of us holding first-place trophies. I want to go celebrate with Kenna and Lalita, introduce them to the Delgado donut tradition, but Mom can’t wait to get out the door. There’s a snowstorm coming and she’s nervous about the weather. Before we go, Coach Billy pulls me aside one more time.
“Would you to talk to Lev for me, Mickey?” I almost correct him and say my name is Mikayla. “I’ve spoken to the Sofers a few times, but so far, he hasn’t changed his mind.”
“He won’t talk to me either, Coach.”
“Try again. We can’t give up on him.”
Holding on to my giant, not-nail-polished, first-place Trophy Girl, I tell Coach, “Okay.”
I’ll figure out a way to bring Lev back to the Gladiators.
At home, Evan is waiting at the kitchen table. I’ve got my trophy in one hand and a box of donuts in the other.
“How’s it going, Mighty Mite?” he asks. “Or should I say Girls’ State Champ?”
“You should say Girls’ State Champ.”
I hold out my trophy.
“Cody!” Mom shouts up the stairs. “Little help with the groceries? Evan, you too.”
“Donut first?” Cody calls.
“Donut after. Earn your keep,” Mom says.
I pour three glasses of milk while Mom, Cody, and Evan unpack the bags. Then Evan comes to sit with me. We munch on our donuts.
“Mom and I talked,” he says. “We’re still buddies, right?”
“You’re my brother.” I tap my finger on his hairy arm. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Name it.”
“I know Lev’s sister broke your heart and all.”
Evan closes his eyes. “I don’t like where this is going.”
“Can you talk to him? Lev, I mean.” I’m not sure what to say. I need to stop worrying about hurting my brother’s feelings, and think about my friend. “He got shaken up. Ever since your dual meet.”
Evan nods. “So I’ve heard.”
“He quit the Gladiators.”
He doesn’t say anything right away. “I didn’t know that.” Evan finishes his milk and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, like a little kid. “What do you want me to do?”
“Tell him not to give up.”
“Hit him with the old ‘Delgados aren’t quitters’ pep talk?”
I put my head on my brother’s shoulder. “How about the old ‘I made a mistake, please forgive me’?”
“It’s like that?”
“Yeah. It’s like that. He won’t talk to me, Ev. But he might listen to you.”
“I’m the fallen hero.”
“Not if you get back up and fix it.”