Read Online Knockout Games by G. Neri - Free Book Online

sayin’. . .”
    I fiddled with my camera. She could see I was embarrassed, so she changed the subject. She nudged me in the shoulder. “You always film the Tokers, but you never point that thing at me. I got moves too.”
    She posed like a supermodel and I recorded her for a minute, doing my fashion photo talk: “Yeah, baby, make love to the lens.”
    She fell down on the grass and we busted up laughing. It was definitely a girlfriend moment. We lay on our stomachs on a low hill and observed the boys waiting to pounce.
    â€œHow come we’re the only girls and we’re stuck out here?” I asked.
    â€œDunno,” she shrugged. “Maybe ‘cause most girls don’t like to fight?”
    â€œHow did you get in, then?” I asked.
    She frowned. “My brother. He used to be TKO top dawg. He was close with K. One day, my mom told him that he had to watch me. I was twelve. Neither of us wanted to hang with each other, but he took me along with him. And you know how it is, guys love to show off when a girl is around, ‘specially one as fine as me.” She gave me her straightest face. “Why you never laugh when I’m joking?”
    â€œSorry.”
    I peered through my viewfinder and spotted a couple of the boys peeking from between some trees.
    â€œAnyways,” she continued. “I caught K’s eye. He liked me and kinda took me under his wing. My bro didn’t like that and threatened to whup me if I came back. I didn’t know what was up with him, and later I figured it was because he didn’t want K hitting on me. But I wasn’t about to let my brother tell me what to do! I’d already seen what they was doing and told him that I’d be happy to tell momma what he been up to. He let me come back and I been there ever since.”
    â€œYou didn’t tell me your brother was here. Which one is he?”
    She stewed. “He left.”
    â€œWell, when is he coming back?”
    She shrugged. “I mean, he ain’t here no more. He said he outgrew it. To him, it was a stupid thing only kids do.”
    I could see she was pissed. “And he doesn’t mind you being here?” I asked.
    â€œHe ain’t around to stop me—oh dang, look!”
    There was action. I trained my lens on one of the Tokers. He sprinted out of the trees and was quickly on the heels of a biker with the fancy racing clothes you see around. It was like a nature film—a cheetah pursuing his prey. The kid caught up to the biker and swung, but hit the dude’s helmet by accident. The biker freaked and took off, barely escaping the three or four others chasing him. Eventually, they all gave up.
    They tried a few more times, failing over and over until finally they just drove some guy into the bushes and attacked him in a frenzy.
    It made for a crazy movie. I added some narration from a nature film I downloaded about cheetahs. I did quick cuts and made all the failures dramatic, until the exciting climax when they captured their target.
    It was wild.

12
    We were on the bus over to Benton Park. The Rec Center had a gym where K and some of the Tokers boxed. It was a rundown brick building left over from another time. Somebody had spray painted a “W” in front of the sign so it read WRec Center. It was like out of some old movie—even had a salty old guy in there with a whistle—your typical hard-fought movie coach who’d seen a million boxing matches. His face was all knots and full of what my mom called “character.” He had a bunch a guys doing exercises with these big heavy leather balls, throwing them at each other and doing squats and stuff. All the while he was walking back and forth blowing his whistle and talking.
    â€œUse your fists in the ring, not the street!”
    â€œYes, Teacher Man!” they all shouted back like they were in the army.
    â€œBe disciplined in your work and you will be a champion in