feeling I know what he means, and now the lights make sense. They want to put me in my place as a girl.
No way.
He thinks I won’t see it coming, but when he spins at me, I’m ready. I duck under and step-slide to the opposite corner.
“Oh, she’s quick,” Joey says. “Kind of cute too.”
My blood pounds in my ears. I refuse to think about how foolish this idea was. That I should have backup. Somebody should know I am here. But I told no one.
I have to do this. I try to push back the fear that trickles like ice through my heart.
They come at me, slowly, deliberately. I need the hurricane. But I don’t know how to make it come. It just does, on its own. I can’t simply tell it to.
Joey comes at me like a boxer, moving his feet, punching. His hands are wrapped from sparring, but then so are mine. We will be able to hit harder without risking our fingers.
When he gets close, he drops his arms. “I don’t know, X. Hitting a girl. I’m a lover, not a fighter.” He laughs.
“Then let’s get on with the lovin’ part,” Exterminator says, and charges me.
He’s more clever with this move, making a sharp pivot right as we’re about to collide. I swing at him and miss, so I have to just take the jab that comes at my gut.
It knocks the air out of me, but I don’t show it, keeping low and quick. I duck away before he gets another one in.
“Now that you mention it,” Joey says, “the fighting does look sort of fun.”
Exterminator steps back to let him have a crack at me. I feel like a mouse being toyed with by two cats. And I will be, if I can’t find the power to take them on.
Axel stirs on the ground and rolls over. I see it from the corner of my eye. He’s gonna be pissed, but he’ll probably be too out of it to join in.
Joey gets low and works his feet, punching air. He’s going to tire himself out. I assume it’s some sort of distraction technique. I keep myself loose and ready.
But when they both come at me in tandem, a move that seems perfectly timed and practiced, I know they’ve done this before. Probably this is their intimidation tactic. Like bullies.
When I dodge a front hook by Joey, Exterminator grabs my waist and throws me down. Joey spins right out of the move and drops onto my legs.
I kick and throw elbows, feeling a satisfying crunch on Exterminator’s face, but they have me down. With two on one, I’m pinned. Axel grasps the ropes and tumbles onto the floor of the ring. “Let me at the little bitch,” he says. “I’ll teach her what girls are for.”
I buck hard against Joey and manage to get a decent kick to Axel’s chest. He curses again. “Hold her goddamn legs,” he growls at Joey.
Exterminator’s got my arms now, and no matter how I struggle against him, he has me pinned, his knees on my upper arms. My head is up against his crotch, so I lift it and ram it down.
But Exterminator just laughs. “I got protection, yo,” he says. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
Axel shoves at Joey, who has my legs pinned. “You’re in the way, punk.” He jerks at the snap to my jeans.
I fight harder. My blood pounds in my head. I insist that my hurricane show up. But my fear is large, looming like a storm of its own. Images flash through my head of my stepbrother Rich, all the terror and loathing I held inside me most of my life. It took Colt a year to uncoil it. My will to fight hard has to come back. I need it.
I’m in a frenzy, jerking my arms and kicking as much as I can while Axel fights with the jeans to get them down. The boys are a blur as I writhe, searching for weak spots, for a pressure point I can exploit.
Of all the times in my life for the hurricane to desert me, why now? My rage is as internal as much as it is aimed at these boys. Panic starts to take over, but still, nothing comes. No strength, no wild spitting fire. I feel a burn in my eyes and I’m outraged. Crying? I do NOT cry. Never. No weakness. Not ever.
“Let’s see what this
No way.
He thinks I won’t see it coming, but when he spins at me, I’m ready. I duck under and step-slide to the opposite corner.
“Oh, she’s quick,” Joey says. “Kind of cute too.”
My blood pounds in my ears. I refuse to think about how foolish this idea was. That I should have backup. Somebody should know I am here. But I told no one.
I have to do this. I try to push back the fear that trickles like ice through my heart.
They come at me, slowly, deliberately. I need the hurricane. But I don’t know how to make it come. It just does, on its own. I can’t simply tell it to.
Joey comes at me like a boxer, moving his feet, punching. His hands are wrapped from sparring, but then so are mine. We will be able to hit harder without risking our fingers.
When he gets close, he drops his arms. “I don’t know, X. Hitting a girl. I’m a lover, not a fighter.” He laughs.
“Then let’s get on with the lovin’ part,” Exterminator says, and charges me.
He’s more clever with this move, making a sharp pivot right as we’re about to collide. I swing at him and miss, so I have to just take the jab that comes at my gut.
It knocks the air out of me, but I don’t show it, keeping low and quick. I duck away before he gets another one in.
“Now that you mention it,” Joey says, “the fighting does look sort of fun.”
Exterminator steps back to let him have a crack at me. I feel like a mouse being toyed with by two cats. And I will be, if I can’t find the power to take them on.
Axel stirs on the ground and rolls over. I see it from the corner of my eye. He’s gonna be pissed, but he’ll probably be too out of it to join in.
Joey gets low and works his feet, punching air. He’s going to tire himself out. I assume it’s some sort of distraction technique. I keep myself loose and ready.
But when they both come at me in tandem, a move that seems perfectly timed and practiced, I know they’ve done this before. Probably this is their intimidation tactic. Like bullies.
When I dodge a front hook by Joey, Exterminator grabs my waist and throws me down. Joey spins right out of the move and drops onto my legs.
I kick and throw elbows, feeling a satisfying crunch on Exterminator’s face, but they have me down. With two on one, I’m pinned. Axel grasps the ropes and tumbles onto the floor of the ring. “Let me at the little bitch,” he says. “I’ll teach her what girls are for.”
I buck hard against Joey and manage to get a decent kick to Axel’s chest. He curses again. “Hold her goddamn legs,” he growls at Joey.
Exterminator’s got my arms now, and no matter how I struggle against him, he has me pinned, his knees on my upper arms. My head is up against his crotch, so I lift it and ram it down.
But Exterminator just laughs. “I got protection, yo,” he says. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
Axel shoves at Joey, who has my legs pinned. “You’re in the way, punk.” He jerks at the snap to my jeans.
I fight harder. My blood pounds in my head. I insist that my hurricane show up. But my fear is large, looming like a storm of its own. Images flash through my head of my stepbrother Rich, all the terror and loathing I held inside me most of my life. It took Colt a year to uncoil it. My will to fight hard has to come back. I need it.
I’m in a frenzy, jerking my arms and kicking as much as I can while Axel fights with the jeans to get them down. The boys are a blur as I writhe, searching for weak spots, for a pressure point I can exploit.
Of all the times in my life for the hurricane to desert me, why now? My rage is as internal as much as it is aimed at these boys. Panic starts to take over, but still, nothing comes. No strength, no wild spitting fire. I feel a burn in my eyes and I’m outraged. Crying? I do NOT cry. Never. No weakness. Not ever.
“Let’s see what this
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