Cutting Promos

The place in which the hearing was to be held was nothing like MJ had imagined. It was a small, stuffy, windowless room with rectangular lights in the ceiling that hurt MJ’s eyes.

In fact, the whole building was completely different than she thought it would be. She had pictured some kind of great big carved stone structure that looked old, like city hall or a grand courthouse. Instead, the State Athletic Commission was housed in a one-story fiberglass building that looked like an ugly box from the outside.

The athletic commission was composed of three members, a man and a woman who looked to be Mr. Arellano’s age, and a younger man. He reminded MJ of her father, at least a little. They all wore suits and had papers and yellow folders stacked in front of them on a folding wooden table that was, MJ noted, very much like the tables used in wrestling shows.

There were rows of uncomfortable plastic chairs lined up that faced the table. MJ was sandwiched between Mr. Arellano and her mother as they filed into one of the rows to sit down. Tika and about a half-dozen other students from Victory Academy were with them, including Zina, who still wasn’t speaking to MJ.

Creepshow had gone back to Japan for a two-week tour and Corrina was away shooting the next season of Lucha Dominion that evening, so neither of them could be there.

MJ spotted Corto as they sat. He was leaning against the corner behind the commission’s table, his arms folded across his chest as he surveyed the group from the school with a smug smile on his face.

Mr. Arellano noticed him too. MJ heard the old man mutter a Spanish curse word she didn’t recognize.

“Who are the other people, Papi?” she asked.

“The younger one in the middle is Commissioner Lopez,” he whispered back to her. “He’s in charge. I forget the other two’s names, but they all get a vote in what happens to us.”

MJ nodded.

“This isn’t like, a real courtroom or anything, right?” her mother asked Mr. Arellano. “Maya doesn’t have to talk to them if she doesn’t want to?”

“I want to, Mom!” MJ insisted.

Her mother had been disturbed by the charges the commission was leveling against Mr. Arellano and the school. It had taken a long time to convince her Corto was an angry little bureaucrat with a grudge who hated wrestling and hated the old man and his school. Even then, she wasn’t happy about the situation, and had only agreed to bring MJ to the hearing because she saw how upset the whole thing had made her daughter.

“She doesn’t have to do anything,” Mr. Arellano assured her. “You two don’t even have to be here.”

“I want to be here, and I’m going to talk to them,” MJ repeated, feeling ignored and hating it.

“Watch your tone, young lady,” her mother reprimanded her.

“Listen to your mamá,” Mr. Arellano added.

“Sorry,” MJ grumbled.

“Are we ready to get started?” Commissioner Lopez asked loudly, addressing the whole room.

No one answered him, but everyone’s attention was firmly on him and the other commission members at that moment.

“Okay then,” he said.

MJ wasn’t sure what to think about him yet. The commissioner didn’t strike her as a mean man, at least right away. He seemed polite, actually. She hoped she was right about that.

Commissioner Lopez read off a paper in front of him.

“We’ve convened today to rule on the status of Álvaro Arellano’s license to promote professional wrestling in the state of California. Mr. Arellano, you own and operate a professional wrestling school called Victory Academy, where you also promote weekly shows.”

Papi stood up to address the commission members.

“I do,” he confirmed, proudly.

“Thank you. And several of your students, who also perform on your shows, are under the age of eighteen?”

“They are. My youngest student is twelve, I believe.”

“And they all participate in these events with the knowledge and consent of their parents?”

“Of course, sir. Every student not of legal age has to have their parent or guardian sign a waiver before they can train at Victory Academy.”

“As I’m sure you know, Mr. Arellano, the California State Athletic Commission currently has no guidelines that list a minimum age for students at a pro-wrestling school. However, I take the charges against you and your school very seriously.”

Mr. Arellano nodded gravely. “As you should. I do, too, I promise you.”

“We have a report from one of our field investigators that alleges you are creating an unsafe environment for minor children. You’re engaging them in dangerous practices, and you’re doing it unsafely. These practices have caused injuries that could potentially be very severe, even lethal.”

“I understand.”

“And what do you say to all of that?”

Papi took a deep breath. “Wrestling is dangerous,” he answered, thoughtfully. “Like football. Like any sport or physical activity kids participate in.”

“But in those other activities no one is getting hit in the head with chairs or set on fire,” the older woman sitting next to Commissioner Lopez said.

She didn’t sound to MJ like a wrestling fan.

“I don’t teach my students to hit people with chairs or set anyone on fire,” Mr. Arellano told her, keeping his tone calm and even. “I teach them how to wrestle and how to protect themselves and their fellow wrestlers in the ring. I’m a second-generation luchador. Lucha, or any kind of professional wrestling, isn’t about hurting people or getting hurt. It’s about entertaining people and telling them a story. Wrestlers work together to do that. They’re not out there to hurt each other. It’s like a dance. That’s what I teach.”

“Thank you for clarifying that, Mr. Arellano,” the commissioner said, and he sounded sincere. “I do have to ask, however, how often injuries occur in that teaching, and if you’re doing everything you can to minimize that risk.”

“Commissioner Lopez, I can stand here all day and tell you that my school is a safe place for kids of any age to come and learn the craft, the art form of lucha libre. I can also tell you how important it is, particularly to Hispanic children, to learn about the culture and heritage that lucha represents for them. But I think it’s more important you hear from the person who these charges, and the future of Victory Academy, affects the most, and that’s my youngest student, Maya here.”

Commissioner Lopez looked a little surprised by that, but he also seemed to be interested in the idea of talking to MJ.

“I think that would help us immensely,” he said. “I’d love to hear from her.”

Mr. Arellano looked down at MJ and nodded to her, and she knew it was her turn.

Before she stood up, her mother squeezed MJ’s knee and smiled at her. It was a nervous smile, and MJ could tell her mother still didn’t want to be here. She smiled back just the same, trying to let her mother know it was okay and that she wasn’t scared.

She was, of course. MJ was terrified as she stood up and saw the three members of the commission staring across the room at her expectantly. She had a sudden and panicked fantasy about running out of the room, all of them watching her in disbelief.

Instead, MJ closed her eyes. She tried to remember the last time she was standing in the middle of a big crowd of people like this in a strange place.

What she saw behind her eyes, lighting up the darkness there, was her father. The two of them were in the stands of an arena, watching a live taping of an episode of Lucha Dominion. He’d taken her to one for her birthday after the first season of the show had premiered and they’d both fallen in love with it.

MJ had never been to a wrestling show before. It was big and loud and hot and crowded, with everyone around them shouting and jumping as they tried to navigate their way through the chaos. She’d felt so small, like she’d get swallowed up by all the thrashing bodies around her. People were bumping into her and she couldn’t see anything.

Just when she was ready to run away from it all, the same way she wanted to run out of the conference room now, her father had touched her hair. MJ had looked up at him then, and he smiled in a way that told her everything would be all right.

MJ remembered how safe she felt in that moment, just knowing he was there. She knew nothing bad could happen to her, not while he was around. They found their seats together and ate hot dogs and drank sodas and watched their favorite wrestlers and luchadores, laughing and cheering along with everyone else, her papi just as excited as she was whenever someone dove out of the ring onto their opponent. She loved seeing him like that, happy, like wrestling made him a little kid again.

It was one of the best nights of her life.

When MJ opened her eyes she felt calmer. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, the way Mr. Arellano and Tika had showed her to breathe when she was in the ring working a match.

“Hello,” she began, the word sticking a little.

She cleared her throat and continued, speaking louder. “My name is Maya Jocelyn Medina, and I’m twelve years old. This year I started sixth grade at Cesar Chavez Middle School, and I started training at Victory Academy with Mr. Arellano.”

“Thank you for coming here to talk to us today, Maya,” Commissioner Lopez said.

“You’re welcome.”

“Maya,” Commissioner Lopez said, “have you gotten hurt learning to wrestle at Mr. Arellano’s school?”

“Yes,” she said, because it was the truth.

He nodded. “Can you tell me how?”

“I . . . have bruises on my elbows because I keep hitting them on the mat when I slap out. Tika says I’m awkward with my arms, but I’m getting better about it. I’m sore the next morning after training a lot. We do a lot of drills, the same thing over and over.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes.”

MJ fell silent, then she added, quickly, “I’ve gotten hurt worse doing gymnastics.”

Commissioner Lopez actually laughed at that, just a little. “Okay. Do you ever feel like Mr. Arellano or anyone else at the school pushes you too hard? Do they want you to keep drilling and training even when you’re hurt?”

MJ shook her head. “They’re not like that. Tika’s my friend. She would never do anything that would get me hurt.”

“I see. Okay. And can you tell me a little bit about what you learn at the school?”

“Like Papi . . . Mr. Arellano . . . said. I learn to wrestle. I couldn’t even get inside the ring until they said I was ready. I started on mats on the floor, just learning holds and reversals. After that, mostly I’ve been learning how to bump. You have to know how to land right when you fall in the ring, or you will get hurt.”

“I hear you. And you’ve actually had wrestling matches on the shows at the school, in front of people?”

MJ nodded. “Yes. A few.”

“Is that usual? For a twelve-year-old to be in a wrestling match against grown-ups?”

“No. I wasn’t supposed to be on the shows yet, but somebody got hurt one night. Tika needed an opponent. It was only supposed to be the one match, but we did a move that people really liked, and a bunch of people posted videos of it, so they’ve been letting me do that one spot on every show. Papi needs the money . . . because of all the fines Mr. Corto makes him pay every week.”

She didn’t look over at Corto, and that was on purpose. MJ didn’t want to see how he reacted to what she’d just said. She thought she could feel his eyes burning into her, however.

“All right, thank you again, Maya,” Commissioner Lopez said, sounding like they were done.

“Can I say something else?” she asked quickly.

“Of course,” the commissioner encouraged her. “Please tell us anything you’d like us to know.”

MJ took a deep breath. “I . . . things have been . . . or they were . . . bad. Or hard, I guess, especially this last year. My papi . . . my father . . . he . . . he’s not around anymore.”

She closed her eyes for just a moment. MJ wasn’t ready to talk about his death, not in front of a room full of strangers, or maybe the thought of admitting out loud to them all that he was gone would be too much, and she wouldn’t be able to get through the rest.

“We moved, my mom and me. I don’t have a lot of friends at school. I don’t have any friends at school, to tell you the truth. I stopped doing gymnastics because the other girls . . . they didn’t want me there. I don’t know why, really. I try. I really try. I’ve just never been good at . . . talking to people, especially the way I wish I could talk to them. So they think I’m weird, I feel like. I don’t know why they have to be so mean all the time, even if they don’t like me, but that’s the reason, I guess.”

MJ was quiet for a moment. She hadn’t planned to tell them all of that. It just came out. She felt everyone watching her, and it was like a giant, hot light was shining down right on her.

Still, she had to tell them the rest. It was for the school.

“Anyway. What I’m trying to say is, I didn’t have anywhere outside of my house to go. I didn’t have anybody . . . my mom’s great, she’s always there for me, but she doesn’t like most of the stuff I like, you know? I got so tired and sick of feeling alone all the time. Then I met Mr. Arellano. He didn’t even want to train me. He said I was too young. But I wouldn’t stop bugging him.”

The group from Victory Academy laughed at that, and MJ noticed that Commissioner Lopez smiled, too.

“I feel good when I’m at Victory Academy. I feel happy again. I know I’m welcome there. That’s like, a big deal. To know they want me to be there, and that I don’t have to ask to hang out or be part of things. I just know I’m included. And I love wrestling. I’ve always loved wrestling, ever since I first watched it with my papi. He . . . he loved it too. I didn’t think I could be a wrestler. Mr. Arellano and everyone else, they’re helping me do things I never even imagined I could do. I love it there. It’s my favorite place in the world right now.”

The room was quiet after she finished, and MJ wished someone would say something. They were all still looking at her. Mr. Arellano had a strange expression on his face, one MJ didn’t remember seeing before. Her mother was actually crying a little, and that made MJ frown because she felt guilty.

“Thank you very much, Maya,” the commissioner said. “I really appreciate you being so honest with us. You can sit down now.”

“You’re welcome,” MJ said again.

She lowered her body into the plastic chair. She did it slowly and carefully, because her legs felt weak right then.

“All right, I think we’ve heard enough,” Commissioner Lopez announced to them all. “We’ll recess for a few minutes to discuss everything you’ve said, and then we’ll give you our decision.”

MJ watched as the three of them behind the table stood up and shuffled out of the room through a side door.

Corto followed close behind them, and MJ noticed he looked far less satisfied and smug than he had when they first sat down.

Her mother slid an arm around MJ’s shoulders and hugged her too tightly.

“You did so good,” she whispered, sniffling from the tears she’d cried during MJ’s speech. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Mom, stop!” MJ whispered. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“I am not!” she insisted, but she did let go of MJ.

Tika leaned around Mr. Arellano to say with a smile, “You killed that, girl!”

“Thanks, Tika.”

The only one who didn’t congratulate her right away was Papi. Mr. Arellano didn’t even look at her, in fact. He stared straight ahead for a long time with that strange expression on his face.

MJ didn’t know what to think. She was starting to wonder if everyone else was wrong, and she’d done a bad job, somehow, telling her story to the commission.

Finally, Mr. Arellano leaned down just enough to speak into her ear.

“Whatever happens, that was a heck of a promo you just cut,” he told her.

MJ felt her chest swell, and she smiled.

“Thank you, Papi.”

It was another five minutes before the commission, led by Lopez, reentered the room and sat back down behind their table.

At first, MJ didn’t see Corto. He wasn’t following on their heels like he had been when the commission walked out.

When Corto did walk through the door, his head was hung low so that MJ couldn’t see his face, and he strode quickly back to his corner.

“Everyone on this panel has children,” the commissioner began. “I have a daughter around your age, Maya. And I think it’s safe to say that at one point and on some level or another, we’ve all watched our children face some truly tough times, much tougher than kids should have to face. It seems to me that these days kids are exposed to so much more than we were when we were your age. You can’t even feel safe in your own schools with the world the way it is.”

MJ wasn’t sure what to make of those words.

“It also seems like kids these days need all the help they can get. They need as many safe spaces as they can find. And it certainly seems to me like you’ve found one at Victory Academy, Maya.”

MJ felt all the air leave her body, but in a good way. She realized she’d been holding her breath as Commissioner Lopez spoke.

“Watching you and hearing you speak, and seeing all of these folks supporting you, I see no reason you shouldn’t be allowed to continue training at the school. I also see no reason to revoke Victory Academy’s license.”

Corto finally raised his head. MJ stared at him, just like everyone else did.

Corto’s face looked twisted, as if he were a clay sculpture someone had mashed with their fists.

MJ had never seen such fury and rage in someone’s face before.

“Mr. Corto,” the commissioner addressed him formally, and with what sounded like very forced patience. “It seems to me that you have a bit of an unhealthy fixation on Mr. Arellano and his business, but that’s a matter we’ll address separately. Is that understood?”

Corto didn’t say anything else. He walked out of the room again without looking at any of them.

MJ watched him go. She’d never seen anyone in real life look as hateful as he just did, like a villain in a movie.

She thought about the masked man on the roof. It was hard to think of an official-looking adult in a suit and tie like Corto having something to do with such an awful person committing such awful acts, but for whatever reason, Corto hated the school so much.

What if Corto had hired that masked man to attack the school, she wondered.

“As far as the matter before us today,” Commissioner Lopez concluded, “it’s the commission’s ruling that there is no evidence of neglect or endangerment, and Victory Academy’s license is hereby upheld.”

Beside MJ, Tika and the other students and wrestlers began to cheer. MJ’s mother even threw her arms around her. MJ couldn’t believe how fast her mother had gone from not wanting them to be here and questioning whether MJ should even be allowed to keep going to Victory Academy to being overjoyed that the school would stay open.

The biggest surprise for her, however, was Zina. MJ felt arms encircling her shoulders from behind, and in the next moment Zina was pressing her cheek against MJ’s.

“I’m sorry, I acted like a jerk,” Zina whispered, and it sounded like she was on the verge of crying.

It made MJ feel so happy to hear those words that she was ready to start crying, too.

“No, I was a jerk,” she said, clutching Zina’s arms with her hands. “A lot of the stuff you said was true, I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“You were so great!” Zina congratulated her, laughing even as she sniffled and blinked tears away.

MJ just closed her eyes and held on to her friend.

When MJ opened her eyes again, she looked up at Papi, who only smiled a very small, reserved smile.

MJ was starting to understand that for Mr. Arellano, that was as good as jumping around and cheering.

She wanted to join in and celebrate with them. She wanted to feel happy and victorious too. MJ did feel relieved, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the idea that the masked man was somehow working for Corto, and that thought kept her from really feeling like they’d won.

MJ didn’t want to bring everybody else down, and she didn’t think it was the time or place to tell Papi about her theory.

So she forced a smile onto her lips and hugged and slapped hands with Tika and the rest of them, pretending to feel things she didn’t.

MJ was tired of doing that, but sometimes it felt like you had to, if only to help other people feel better.