Avery was good. That made it harder to understand why she spent so much time looking for a challenge that hadn't been issued. When Elena closed the gym, she found Nia finishing a second round of quiet footwork by the mirrors. "You don't have to earn every inch of space here," Elena said. Nia stopped and caught her breath. ""I know."" Elena glanced at the damp footprints on the floor. ""Knowing and acting like it are different things."" Nia laughed softly and reached for a towel.
She was still thinking about that sentence on the bus home. Their apartment had a kitchen light that flickered for a second before turning steady. Denise said the landlord would replace it. Nia said the light was doing its best. Don't do that again.
They were still unpacking the last boxes and hadn't decided whether the books belonged beside the sofa or on the narrow shelf near the bedrooms. Denise arrived home with a bag of groceries and shoulders that sagged from a full day, learning a hospital's new scheduling system. She found Nia at the table with a notebook open. There was a ring drawn across the top of the page with small arrows tracing exits from the corners. Beside it sat a bowl of rice that had gone cold.
"You planning to eat that?" Denise asked. "Eventually. Looks like it's waiting to be promoted. Nia closed the notebook. Denise put away the groceries, then sat across from her.
Her mother had been watching the way Nia returned from practice, not injured or upset, but more careful with her words than she usually was. Tell me about this new gym, Denise said. Good equipment. Coach is serious. People work hard.
People have names. Nia described Tessa's footwork and Eli's battle with the jump rope. She told Denise about Avery, too, including the question about whether she'd ever been in a ring. And what did you say that I had? Denise raised an eyebrow.
You didn't mention the 27 bouts. I didn't think she was asking for my rumé. Have to recite it. But you sound like you are trying to keep it under the table. Nia pressed the corner of the notebook flat.
In Baltimore, the record had followed her everywhere once she began winning enough matches for other gyms to know her. Coaches introduced her to visiting adults. [laughter] Reporters at a youth event asked about her future before she'd even taken off her head gear. An older girl had once told her she must think she was special because people knew her name. None of those things had come from a decision Nia made on a Tuesday afternoon. They grew around her and kept growing.
I just wanted to go somewhere and train, she said. Not have people decide what I owe them before they know me. Denise watched her. And is that what's happening? Not exactly.
Then why are you bracing for it? Nia didn't answer her quickly. Her mother had a way of finding the part of a sentence Nia had been using to protect herself. I don't want them to think I'm showing off. Being honest about what you've done isn't showing off.
You sent the real record to your coach, didn't you? Every page good. Nobody gets to make you ashamed of that. And nobody gets to tell you that you're better than everyone else because of it either. Nia looked down at her hands.
There were faint calluses near her knuckles. She remembered how thrilled she'd been after her first official win and how miserable she'd felt after the third loss on her record. The numbers meant effort and disappointment, not magic. She didn't know why saying them aloud sometimes made them sound like a boast. Denise stood to warm the rice.
At the stove, she paused. Starting over can be healthy, baby, but I want you to ask yourself whether you're starting over or making yourself smaller. Nia opened the notebook again, not because she wanted to escape the question, but because she needed something ordinary to do while it settled. She drew the exit angle one more time and moved the pencil away from the corner. She would think about the words tomorrow. for now.
She had practice in the morning, and that was something she could understand. The invitational came up during the Friday team meeting. Elena stood beside the whiteboard with a printed schedule pinned under two magnets. Riverside was a youth boxing event with a handful of clubs competing across different experience levels. It wasn't the largest tournament on the calendar, but it mattered for athletes hoping to make the regional travel roster.
Coaches watched more than results. They watched how fighters behaved between rounds, listened to instructions, and handled decisions they didn't like. A place had opened in the 17-year-old open class bracket after an athlete withdrew a family emergency. Elena had received notice from Paula Mercer that morning. She explained that the club could nominate another eligible boxer by the closing date, provided the sanctioning documentation was in order.
Nia listened from the back row. She was not expecting her name to come up. She had joined the gym less than a week earlier, and there were athletes who had spent months preparing for the event. She also knew that a nomination was not a favor. Someone would have to meet the division's requirements, pass medical screening, and be ready to compete under the same rules as everyone else.
I'm doing evaluations on Monday, Elena said. If you're interested and eligible, speak to me before you leave. Avery raised her hand. Who's the open slot for? The eligible athlete who earns it. people who actually train here every season or just anybody who walks through the door.
The question drew a few uncomfortable looks. Elena did not soften her answer. Length of membership isn't a scoring category. Readiness is. Avery leaned back with her arms folded.
Kelsey gave a theatrical sigh. Nia kept her eyes on the printed schedule. After the meeting, Tessa told Nia she should put her name forward. You move like my brother's coach, she said. And he says you're supposed to enter when you're ready, not when everybody gives permission.
That sounds like something a coach would say. Are you going to? Nia considered the choice. It would be easy to let the opening pass and avoid a new source of attention. She had been doing that in small ways since moving.
Finding places at the edge of rooms, speaking only when she had to, pretending decisions didn't matter until they'd already been made. Her mother would recognize the pattern before Nia admitted it. She found Elena collecting cones near the ring. If the record clears, Nia said, "I'd like to be evaluated." Elena nodded as though she'd been expecting the answer. Then show up Monday rested and bring your paperwork again.
I don't want the computer making our decisions for us. Nia left with the deadline written in her phone. Through the gym window, she saw Avery walking away with Kelsey and Brooke. Their voices carried only in fragments, but her own name was clear. Monday's evaluation wasn't a performance in front of the full club.
Elena kept the group small and assigned tasks based on what she needed to see. Nia warmed up with shadow boxing, worked the heavy bag, then moved into rounds of focus mits. A veteran assistant coach named Daniel kept the timer while Elena watched from a corner of the ring. On the mits, Nia didn't hit with spectacular force. She landed combinations in balance and pulled the last punch without dragging her feet behind it.
When Daniel moved the target unexpectedly, she adjusted without reaching. If he held a mitt too far from the center line, she waited for a proper opening instead [clears throat] of swatting at air to impress him. Again, Elena said after the second round, "This time, I want the exit after the body shot. Don't admire your work." Nia nodded, touched Daniel's right mitt with a straight, stepped in for the body shot, and slid left before he could turn to meet her. The movement looked nearly boring until Daniel shook his head and smiled.