On Saturday morning, when Evan and I walk into Towson University’s arena, the outside world stops existing. I’m here for Mickey, one hundred percent.

I’ve never been to a tournament as a fan before. Today, I get to watch Mickey and Isaiah wrestle without worrying about my own matches.

There are a bunch of Gladiators here, but Devin is the first to say hello. He runs up and pulls on my jacket. He doesn’t care that I’m not on his team anymore.

“Hey, Devin.” I pick him up and throw him over my shoulder. He’s all legs. In a couple of years, he’ll be tall like Isaiah. “You ready to kick butt out there?”

“Ready!”

I put him down on the mat. “Show me your stance.”

He gets low, with his hands up. His face is all pinched, lips smooshed together, eyes narrow. I take my stance across from Devin and let him get a shot on me. He grabs a single leg and takes me down to the mat.

“Two!” Devin shouts. He jumps up and runs circles around me, holding up two fingers.

I laugh and give him a fist bump. “Way to go, man. I’ve got to find Mickey. You wrestle hard when it’s your turn tomorrow.”

Last week, I asked Josh and Isaiah to video chat with me. I explained my idea for helping Mickey, and how I thought it might help Nick too. It was the way people cheered for that girl at the Naval Academy tournament that gave me the idea. Today, we have a stadium full of wrestling fans. If I ask, I know a whole lot of them will cheer for Mickey. And if a whole lot of people make it clear they want her to wrestle, maybe Dr. Spence will give in.

Thanks to Isaiah’s mom, all the Gladiators parents know we need a cheering section for Mickey’s matches. Especially if she ends up wrestling Spence.

I asked Josh not to tell his uncle the plan. I don’t want Coach Billy getting in trouble with the state wrestling association. We didn’t tell Mickey or the Delgados, either. She’ll wrestle better if she doesn’t know what we’re doing.

I stay calm, even though the air is buzzing with nervous energy. Wrestlers run around, playing tag between the seats, acting like normal kids, even though they’re the best wrestlers in the state.

The first time I see Mickey, she’s with that girl she’s always telling me about, Kenna. Mickey says they’re best friends, so I’m surprised they’re total opposites. Mickey’s loud and strong, the way she pushes me and her brothers around. Kenna is quiet. I notice the way she watches people. I bet she was a good defensive wrestler.

While Mickey warms up, Kenna and I walk around the arena. I fill her in on the plan.

“I like it,” she says. “Even if it doesn’t work, Mikayla’s going to see how many people are on her side.”

“Do you miss wrestling?” I ask.

Kenna looks at the mats, spread across the arena floor. There are people everywhere, in the stands, gathered on the edges of mats. There are judges, referees, coaches, parents. She pulls a brown curl until it’s straight, then shakes her head. “No. I miss Mickey. Wrestling rec was fun, but this isn’t for me. I’m a backstage kind of person.”

“I’m still trying to figure out what kind of person I am.”

“The kind who stands up for his partner,” she says. “That’s good enough for me.”