More than once, Ari winced as the boys landed blows. Despite the difference in size, they were evenly matched. The boy from Piedmont caught Curtis off-guard more than once but Curtis had speed on this side. He was quick and agile.
“You’re right,” Oliver said, after letting out a loud whoop at the end of round one. “He’s definitely fast.”
Seeing Curtis hold his own made Ari feel better and as they watched each round, she found herself on the edge of her seat, cheering with the rest of the crowd. Curtis’s speed helped him outlast his opponent, and he landed two hard punches against the boy’s black tank, before cutting under his chin, knocking him to the ground.
The referee blew his whistle, calling the fight, and held Curtis’s hand up in victory. He pulled off his mask and mouth guard and smiled at the crowd, all of them cheering for his win. The look of accomplishment on his face was enough for Ari to concede.
“Fine,” she said, knocking Oliver on the shoulder. “Maybe this isn’t the worst thing to happen for him.”
“Did you just admit you were wrong?”
“Be nice and I’ll buy you more popcorn.”
Oliver raised an eyebrow. “Deal.”
* * *
Ari watched the final fight through her fingers. It was intense. Really intense.
As the two boys pummeled each other she realized she’d never seen anything like it. Engaged in a mixture of martial arts and boxing, the two boys flew through the air, as though they were weightless. Except when they connected and then it was like an earthquake rocked the gym. Even over the cheering crowd she could hear their heavy breathing and grunts, both trying to get the upper hand. The boys fought tirelessly, wrestling one another to the ground, using their feet and fists and bodies.
“How old are these kids?” Oliver asked. His eyes glued to the match.
“Eighteen?” Ari guessed, flipping through her program. That number seemed too young. They seemed like men, powerful and strong. Maybe Davis fed them steroids.
Alvarez represented the GYC. Stocky, with a barrel chest. He looked like a tank instead of a kid. Ari flinched as he flipped to the ground, his legs swiped from under him by his opponent, Jordan. He landed with a thud but was back up in an instant, swinging his fists, slamming them into Jordan’s chest.
Clearly outmatched, it was only a matter of minutes before Jordan fell for the last time. The referee called the fight.
After holding his arms up in victory, Alvarez reached out a gloved hand and helped Jordan off the ground. They shook hands, even gave each other a sweaty hug and the announcer called the fight to an end.
“I’d like to catch Curtis if I can,” Ari told Oliver, so they pushed through the crowd to the athletes. The guys were pumped, revisiting the fights and it took Ari a minute to squeeze through a pack of sweaty boys to reach her client.
“Ms. Grant?” he said in surprise when he saw her. Ari noted the bandage on an old wound over his eye and a new, reddish-purple bruise under his jaw. “What are you doing here?”
“Just checking up on you. You did a great job tonight.”
Oliver pushed past her and held out his hand. Curtis didn’t hesitate this time like he had with Davis that first day. He eagerly accepted it. “Excellent fight. Can’t wait to see the next one,” Oliver gushed.
“Thank you,” Curtis said, adding a “sir,” to the end. Wow. Maybe this program really was changing him.
Fans of all ages surrounded the athletes and many wanted to offer their congratulations. Oliver turned to talk to some of the other boys, leaving Ari with Curtis.
“We’re going to go, but I just wanted to tell you how proud I was to see you accomplish this.”
“Thanks,” he said. His eyes darted to the ground. “Umm…can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Do you think you could bring my mom and my grandma next time?” he scratched the back of his neck. “You know, if it’s not any trouble?”
Ari smiled and nodded. “I think that’s a great idea. I’ll make sure Davis gives me a schedule, okay?”
“Thanks,” he said, smiling in return. The instant she stepped away from Curtis, a crowd of admirers rushed toward hi
m.
“Come on,” she said to Oliver, tugging on his shirt. She caught him in the middle of a conversation with Peter, and Oliver clapped him on the back as he walked away.