She'd meant to keep the reply light, but the air had changed. Avery wasn't cruel in the effortless way some people were. She was measuring something. Nia recognized that, too. Fighters spent a lot of time trying to decide whether the person across from them belonged there.
Later, Elena asked Nia to hold pads for an older boy practicing his combinations. She counted his rhythm, adjusted the target when he dropped his elbow, and told him quietly to breathe after the second punch. Rather than holding everything in his chest, he was breathing properly. Avery was speaking to Brooke near the mirrors, but she turned at the sound of Zia's voice. She had heard that correction before, probably from her own coaches. When practice ended, Elena thanked Nia for helping and asked her to come again tomorrow.
It was the closest thing to approval Nia had wanted. She hadn't noticed that Avery was still looking at her as she zipped her bag. The trouble began with a small rectangle on a computer screen. On the third afternoon, Elena called Nia into her office, which was barely large enough for a desk, a filing cabinet, and the extra stack of folding chairs against the wall. A window looked out over the parking lot.
Someone had taped a handwritten reminder above the printer. Check dates twice. Elena turned her monitor so Nia could see it. Her name appeared on the Riverside event system with an Ohio athlete ID underneath. Under competition history, the page listed two recorded bouts.
Both had been entered by a local sanctioning administrator during the transfer setup. The rest of the table was blank. That's not my record, Nia said. I know your membership history from Maryland is here in the packet, but when the Columbus event imported your profile, it didn't pull the prior results. Paula Mercer says the two pages are supposed to reconcile before entries close.
Do we have to submit everything again? I've already sent the original export. She asked for the Baltimore Club contact as well, so I gave it to her. I want you to know what the public listing looks like in the meantime. Nia read the screen again.
Two bouts. She could almost hear what someone might do with it. A fighter with two bouts had no business being placed against athletes preparing for regional open-class competition. A coach who pushed such a fighter forward could be accused of favoritism or carelessness. People who didn't know the system would assume the number was all there was.
Can we correct it here? She asked. Not by typing in scores ourselves. The event organizer has to reconcile the records with the sanctioning body. We can provide documents.
We cannot certify our own athletes record. Nia nodded. The distinction mattered. Official results were useful because someone other than the boxer kept them. She didn't want Elena inventing a shortcut just to make her look established.
Should I tell the team? Elena asked. I can explain the transfer issue at the next meeting. Nia hesitated. Will it affect training?
Not my training decisions. Then let's wait for the proper fix. Elena folded her arms. I'm not asking you to hide anything. If someone asks you directly, you can tell them the truth.
I will. Nia meant it. There was a difference between concealing a record and not presenting it as an introduction. She'd given the papers to the person who needed them. It seemed unnecessary to turn a systems problem into a speech to a room full of teenagers.
That evening, Paula Mercer replied by email. She had opened a reconciliation ticket with the event registry and expected the correct file to be available before the invitational. Elena printed the confirmation and tucked it behind Nia's registration page. Nia saw the blue folder on the shelf and thought the problem was already on its way out. Outside the office, she passed Kelsey and Brooke at the vending machine.
Brooke had a phone held low between them. Kelsey glanced at Nia's face, then turned the screen away. Nia didn't stop. She had no reason to assume that a half-second movement concerned her. She would remember it later when the incomplete page became something people could carry around in their pockets.
At Forge Street, the difference between a strong session and a reckless one was rarely loud. Elena marked it in the details. She told athletes to lower their volume when they were tempted to raise their power. She made them repeat defensive drills at half speed if they lost their spacing. Anyone who bragged about hurting a sparring partner received a long lecture about why that partner needed to trust them enough to return tomorrow.
Nia understood those rules immediately. They sounded like rules from home. In Baltimore, her former coach would stop an entire round because somebody had stopped listening. She had once spent a week practicing one small movement at the ropes, turning away from a corner without leaning into the next punch. It had been maddening at 15.
By 17, she could feel that lesson in her legs whenever somebody stepped too close. Elena paired her with a beginner named Tessa for a defense drill. Tessa had fast hands and a tendency to lunge after the first jab. Every time Nia moved offline, Tessa chased the empty space with her chin unguarded. Nia could have touched her forehead after every mistake.
Instead, she reduced her movement until Tessa could follow it. "Don't reach for me," Nia said. "Bring your feet first. You can make me move without trying to jump across the room." Tessa tried again. Her punch finished nearer the center of her balance.
Nia let the glove brush her guard and tapped Tessa's shoulder to mark the opening. "Better," she said. "Try the same thing when you're tired." They worked through three rounds. At the end, Tessa grinned as if she'd won an argument with gravity. Nia grinned back.
On the far side of the ring, Avery was watching while Brooke spoke into her ear. Later in the session, Elena asked for short footwork demonstrations. Avery volunteered first and moved beautifully through the ladder, knees driving without disturbing her upper body. Nia applauded with everyone else. When Elena called for another athlete, Tessa pushed Nia forward before she could decline.
Nia crossed the ladder without touching a rung. That alone wasn't remarkable. What caught Elena's eye was the way Nia came out of the last square, shifted her weight, and returned to a boxing stance, prepared to punch. She hadn't added the flourish to be seen. To her footwork that ended with her feet out of position wasn't finished.
"Where did you learn that exit?" Elena asked. "Coach used to make us do it after every ladder set." "Good habit. Keep it from the bench." Avery said, ""Must have been some beginner class."" Nia looked at her, trying to decide whether this was a joke she was expected to answer. Then she turned toward Elena, who had already called the next drill. There were easier things to spend breath on.
During cleanup, Avery appeared beside Nia at the rope hooks. She picked up a heavy training rope and coiled it with deliberate precision. ""You always this quiet?"" Avery asked. Mostly people might think you're scared. People can ask. You've got a problem with me?
Nia secured the final coil. "No, I watched you work today. Your balance is good." That seemed to surprise Avery more than an insult would have. She stared for a moment, then gave a small nod and walked away. Nia had offered the compliment because it was true.