Fight Like a Girl - Sheena Kamal Page 0,4

in the air has infected his brain.

“You’re not that dark,” he says, when I tell him about Ma’s comment at the mall. I don’t want to ask about the juice thing because he’ll probably say something disgusting and I’ll have to throw him out of my room. Besides, I’m pretty sure my juice isn’t that sweet on account of all the fighting I do. Not MMA, because I don’t like Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu and never want to be face down in anyone’s crotch or trapped under a stank armpit. You want to roll around on the ground? Fine, go ahead. I’m gonna stay on my feet, thanks. So Muay Thai is where it’s at for me.

Punches like a boxer.

Sharp elbows and powerful knees.

Teeps with all the force I can muster behind my right leg, a push kick that can knock you on your ass.

Swing kicks that’ll sweep your legs from under you.

“Yeah?” I say, moving the dress aside and sprawling out beside him. “You’re the palest guy I ever met. What would you know about it?”

Columbus punches me in the shoulder, but not that hard, even though he knows I can take it. He’s not offended. Neither of us have been offended by each other since we were eight years old, when we were walking home one day from school and brushed arms. He shot away from me like a bullet and called me a dirty Paki, which upset us both. Me for obvious reasons and him because it just came out and he knew it was a bad thing to say. I forgave him after a week of sullen silences but neither of us ever forgot that I could have made it much worse for him. I could have told one of our teachers at school or (worse) Pammy, who does not tolerate that kind of shit from anybody.

Ma walks into my room and looks at us on my bed. Sees something between us that isn’t there. With that look we spring apart, even though it’s nothing because it’s Columbus and he’s a dork, a gamer, an animé nerd, which is the nerdiest kind. I’ve crushed on other guys, but never Columbus.

Even though he was my first kiss and, pathetically, my last.

It happened a couple years ago after we snuck some of Pammy’s wine from one of the ginormous boxes she drinks it out of. I shudder to even think about it. Though the kiss itself was nice, if a little dry on account of the alcohol dehydration. But it was Columbus, of all people. I mean…his pipe cleaner arms couldn’t hold a pencil longer than a minute at a time, whereas I can do fifty push-ups without breaking a sweat. Easy as breathing. I could break him with a flick of my wrist.

* * *

When Columbus goes home, I stop outside of Ma’s bedroom door and peek inside. Ma and Dad are both in there. Normally, I stay away from her room when Dad is around, but I want to ask if we can get the dress in another colour maybe. Looking through the gap between the door and the frame, I see Ma pulling on her nightgown, her skin dewy from the bath. A slip of satin flutters down over the purple bruise on her hip. Dad reaches for her and she goes into his arms.

I step away, avoiding the major creaks of the floorboards, wishing he would go back to Trinidad. He doesn’t come up that often, but when he’s here I can’t wait for him to leave again. Back in my room I pull the covers over my head and try not to think about how early it’s starting this time. The bruises, I mean. I bury my head, my rage, my fear. My hatred.

I hate him so much I could kill him.

four

I’m usually at the gym more when Dad is around. Ma thinks my Muay Thai obsession is insane but realizes that at least one of us should learn self-defence. Keeps me out of trouble and all that. She knows I train, but she doesn’t know I fight. She thinks it’s for exercise and protection. Sometimes I think about telling her, but I don’t want to make her feel bad that I can fight.

I can fight and she won’t.

Me, Amanda and Noor are the main girls that train here, though others cycle through. They get with the good-looking guys, do some kick-boxing-lite and push-ups from their knees. Other stuff on their knees, too, while