Spence is strutting around the arena in his blue Eagles singlet. His little sister is trailing behind him. He must be on babysitting duty. The way he picks her up and piggybacks her, I don’t think he minds.
When we pass, I nod to Nick and he nods back. He doesn’t know what I’m planning either. He caught me in the sixth-grade hall yesterday and asked if I’d come up with something.
“Leave it to me,” I told him. “You focus on wrestling. Nice hair, by the way.”
He’d dyed the tips of his floppy hair Eagles blue.
“Thanks. My sister did it with Kool-Aid for States. My dad hates it.” Nick grinned. “I won’t forget this.”
“She’s going to beat you, Spence.”
“If she does, it’ll be a fair fight.”
Part of me hopes Mickey and Spence won’t have a match today, because that would make everyone’s life easier. But at the same time, I want to see if I can make this plan work.
Isaiah comes to give me the report. He’s been spying on Mickey’s bracket sheet all day. “We’re on,” he says. “She’s wrestling Spence on mat eight.”
I slap his hand. “Get everybody who’s not wrestling right now. All the Gladiators. All the parents.”
“Hey, Lev,” Isaiah says. “This isn’t the end, is it? You and me, we’re going to hang out when the season’s over.”
“I hope so,” I tell him.
My birthday is in the summer. I’ve never invited wrestling friends to my party before, but I want Josh, Isaiah, and Mickey, maybe even Devin, to be there. Bryan too, of course. Emma, Marisa. My guest list is going to be huge.
I run into the stands to find my team. After all the years of practices, spending weekends at tournaments together, the Gladiators moms and dads know me. They pat me on the back as I walk down the steps and take a seat next to Kenna and the Delgados.
“This is it,” Kenna whispers. “Good luck.”
Mickey and Spence are at the judges’ table. They stand side by side without looking at each other. Coach Billy is in one corner, clapping his hands together. Dr. Spence is on the other side, standing stiff as a board. Nick’s sister sits in the coach’s chair. She has a blue streak in her hair like her brother’s.
“C’mon, Nicky!” she shouts.
It all plays out in front of me, the way it has so many times this season, but now I see things differently. Nick looks at his father. I can tell, the way his shoulders cave, that he wants his dad to say, Yes, Nick can wrestle. He doesn’t want to throw away a shot at placing in the state tournament.
Dr. Spence shakes his head, the way he has every time Nick and Mickey stepped on the mat this season.
The ref walks Mickey to the center circle by herself. My heart pounds. Kenna grabs my arm and squeezes.
Before the ref can raise Mickey’s hand, I shout, “Let her wrestle!”
A few voices join in, yelling, “Let her wrestle!”
Coach Billy looks into the stands. The ref looks up too. Then Dr. Spence.
“Go, Mickey!” Kenna calls. “You’ve got this.”
Evan turns to me and smiles. He cups his hands around his mouth. “Let her wrestle!” he shouts.
“Let her wrestle!” The Delgados join the rest of the Gladiators parents, picking up the chant. Soon it spreads through the stands, louder and louder, beyond where the Gladiators are sitting. Other people, parents and wrestlers, pick up the words. “Let her wrestle!”
Nick spots me. He tips his head and I nod back. He shoots a glance at his father. Dr. Spence wipes his forehead. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him look nervous.
The chant gets louder. “Let her wrestle!” People walk over to mat eight, to see what’s going on. “Let her wrestle! Let her wrestle!”
It feels like the entire stadium is focused on Mickey, standing alone in the center of the mat.
Nick says something to his father. He points at his sister. Dr. Spence looks down at her and nods. Then Nick is running back to the judges’ table. His face is all headgear and smiles as he takes his stance across from Mickey.
Applause and cheering surround me as Mickey and Spence shake hands. Dr. Spence turns his back to the mat. For a second, I think he’s going to walk away and make Nick wrestle without a coach. But he gathers Nick’s sister up, kneels on the mat with her, and claps his hands together.
Kenna hugs me. “We did it.”
“Wrestle!” the ref shouts. Mickey gets the first shot. She goes for a double leg and misses, but recovers quickly. They grapple for most of the first period. Nick tries to turn her. He’s got good upper-body strength, but he can’t get a grip on Mickey. Seconds before the period ends, she trips him. They’re on the ground. Mickey crawls up Nick’s body to the top position.
“Two!” the ref calls.
“Woo-hoo, Mickey!” Kenna yells.
Behind us, Isaiah’s mom is on her feet, clapping. “That’s how we do it!”
The ref flips the disk between periods. When it lands on red, Nick chooses down position. Mickey tries to ride him out, but Nick is too strong. He gets a reversal and cradles her up, exactly like I said he would. She kicks out and gets to her belly, but he still earns two back points before the buzzer. She’s losing 4–2.
They set up again. Coach Billy crosses his arms in an X. He wants Mickey to take neutral. She’s got to get the first shot, the first takedown, if she’s going to tie the score. Nick goes for the double leg, but he’s too high. Then they’re both on their knees, with Nick’s arms clasped behind Mickey’s hips, and his head in her belly.
“Get out of that!” Cody yells.
Mickey’s left arm pops up to break the hold. She’s got him by the shoulder. Her free hand comes across and grabs Nick’s hip.
Evan looks back at me. “Cement mixer,” he says.
She steps up and shifts her upper body so fast, Nick turns onto his butt and then on his back.
She’s already got the takedown, but Mickey’s going for a pin. The ref is on his stomach, counting. Nick slips out of the hold, but it’s too late. Mickey’s got enough back points. He’ll need more than an escape to beat her.
The final buzzer sounds. I look up. The ref raises his hand with the green cuff and touches three fingers to his shoulder. The score machine flashes: 4 to 7.
Evan, Cody, Kenna, Isaiah—we’re all jumping up and down in the stands like a bunch of kangaroos. Mickey’s grin is huge when she goes to shake hands with a red-faced Dr. Spence. Then she leans down and shakes hands with Nick’s sister too.
“I’m going to cry,” Kenna says.
“Me too,” says Cody. I think he’s joking.
Mrs. Delgado comes over to me. She has tears in her eyes. “Thank you for being such a good friend to Mikayla.” She gives me the kind of hug you only get from a mom.
When Mickey finally makes it into the stands, she faces me with her hands on her hips.
“Your idea?”
I shrug.
She wraps an arm around my shoulders and gives me a noogie. “You’re a good partner, Lev Sofer.”
“If you say so.”
“I say so.”
Mickey ends up winning fourth place, good enough for a trophy. It’s a boy trophy, of course, which surprises no one. I’m surrounded by a scrum of Delgados. Evan, Cody, and Mickey beg and plead with their mom and dad, insisting that Mickey has earned all the donuts she can eat. Kenna and I look at each other and laugh.
“You’ll get used to them,” Kenna says. “It’s a Delgado thing.”
“I know a great donut place five minutes from here,” Mr. Delgado says. “You’re all coming. My treat.”
Before we leave the arena, I look for Spence. If his dad is still busy coaching, he’ll be able to talk. Finally, I see Nick and his sister sitting in the upper tier of seats. It’s hard to miss their matching blue hair.
Mickey follows my eyes. “I’ll go with you,” she says. “Can you wait for us, Kenna?”
When we’re nearly at the top, Mickey can’t help herself. She has to say it, one last time. “Nice view, Sofer.”
“Nice view,” I agree.
Nick and I clasp hands. “Not what I expected,” he says, “but at least we got to wrestle. Good match, Delgado.”
Mickey nods. “You too. I hope you get to wrestle someday, little Spence,” she says to Nick’s sister. Mickey reaches into her wrestling bag. “Here. They’re a little big, and you’d better wash them, but promise me you’ll wear these on the mat someday.” She hands Nick’s sister her pink hedgehog knee socks.
When Nick’s sister smiles, I can see she’s missing at least four teeth.
“Pink shoes, can’t lose,” she tells Mickey.
“Was that you cheering for me this morning?” Mickey asks. She grabs the little girl around the neck and ties up with her, grappling right there in the seats.
“We’d better go,” I tell Mickey. “Donut time. See you at school, Spence.”
“See you, Sofer,” he says.
It feels good, sitting with my friends in the donut shop at the end of a long day of wrestling. For once, I’m not in my sweaty singlet, hair crunchy and flattened from wearing headgear all day. Mickey’s parents and her brothers sit at the counter. Mickey, Kenna, and I have a booth to ourselves. There’s a box of donuts and three big glasses of milk sitting in the middle of the table.
Kenna points to Mickey’s trophy. “Did you have to bring that in here?”
“Trophy Boy wants donuts too,” Mickey says.
I pick up the trophy. “He’s a worthy partner for Trophy Girl. Does Kenna know about the prank?”
Mickey nods. She holds up her glass of milk. “Partners.”
Kenna holds up her milk. “And friends.”
We clink our glasses together. This is what I’ll write about in my notebook tonight, so I’ll always remember sitting in a donut shop with my friends, a trophy from States gleaming on the table. Even if I never step on the mat again, this has been my best season.