Fight Like a Girl - Sheena Kamal Page 0,24

shirt on.

And apparently we have an accident at his work to thank for Ravi’s constant presence in our house.

Using up all the hot water in the mornings. Replacing my whey protein with a disgusting vegan version, on account of his old-man digestive issues. Looking at my biceps with judgment, as though they’re puny. Which, of course, they’re not, because even though the trip to New York has me off my regular training regimen, I’m working my chin-up bar and I can lift like a motherfucker. Well, myself. Still. Lifting yourself like a motherfucker is no small feat.

“What’s up with this Ravi guy?” asks Columbus, the day after I return. We’re on his bed, as per usual now that Ravi is a constant fixture in my house. Tomorrow is our first day back at school from break. We don’t talk too much at school, so Columbus likes to get in these little chat sessions outside of class time. “Why is he always there? Doesn’t he have his own place to go to?”

“No, he’s moved in for good,” I say, beyond depressed about this. “He hurt his back a couple years ago. A crate fell on him at work or something. So apparently he needs a lot of rest, according to my mom.”

“Shoulda fell on him harder,” mutters Columbus. No shit. It’s about the first time Columbus has been right about anything. “So what about New York? Any hookups?” he asks, abruptly changing the subject.

“No.”

He rubs his puny pecs. “Not even some up-top action? Christmas holidays before college and you’re in New York City?”

Which, to Columbus, is like hookup central because he’s never actually been.

“Don’t worry,” he says, with one of his baby punches to my shoulder. “You’ll get laid in college. But it’s kinda pathetic, still.”

Apparently he spent his break having butt loads of sex with a (slightly) older woman who worked at the accessory store at the mall. She is, as he put it delicately, a fine piece of ass, a Guyanese import (who likes her men skinny and barely legal, I guess). If Columbus is telling the truth, which is up for debate.

“I gotta go train,” I say, pushing him off the bed.

“Right,” he says, as I step over him. “You know real men don’t like women with muscles.”

“When I see a real man, I’ll ask him.”

But it bothers me all the way to the gym. I see Ricky at reception and bring up my demo fight with Jason, making sure to comment on his cardio. Naturally, Ricky takes this opportunity to tell me everything he knows about Jason. College boy. Training for less than a year. Has “heart.” Lives in res but comes back to the east end most weekends to do his laundry at home.

“Girlfriend?” I ask.

Ricky smirks. “Why do you want to know?”

“Why don’t you want to say?”

“Lucky wants to get lucky,” Ricky teases. “Lucky” is what they call me as a private joke since I never win my fights. He’s about to say some other douchebag thing but shuts up quick because Kru comes into the reception area just then.

Kru smiles when he sees me, asks about my holiday. I feel like all my dreams have come true for just that moment. I don’t tell him about the roti shop or hanging out with my aunt. I tell him about my morning runs and the shadowboxing I did to keep sharp. He gives me a round of pads and shakes his head sadly at the end. “You need work.”

So I’m back to training every day.

Kru has me hold pads for the little kids in the junior class and it’s not so bad because at least he gives me a round or two after evening sessions. I feel an itch, just beneath my skin. Sparring isn’t the same, it really isn’t. I need the ring. The crowd. The feeling of surrender to what is happening between me and the other girl.

Like my mother, who has completely surrendered to Ravi. She’s so busy all the time now, with work and dealing with him. Even my eighteenth birthday wasn’t anything special. Just some takeout and a cake. She looked relieved that I didn’t want any presents, only money. Usually she loves shopping for me, but I’m kind of glad I have no more dresses taking up room in my closet. I’m okay with not spending time at the house now that Ravi’s there. In fact, I prefer it.

One night I come home so late they don’t know what