Avery would have to invent another reason to keep the pressure alive. Paula Mercer's office was a narrow room behind the Riverside Community C Center's reception area, though on most days she worked from a folding table at youth events. She had spent 16 years sorting registrations, missing consent forms, coach disagreements, medical clearances, and the occasional parent who believed the rules existed only for other families. The email marked urgent on Wednesday did not surprise her. Its subject line read, "Eligibility concern regarding late entry boxer." The message came from a parent volunteer connected to Avery's training group.
It attached the public bout-list screenshot and claimed that Nia's classification should be reviewed before she was allowed to compete. The sender did not mention the transfer system or the supporting documents already supplied. Still, the question concerned matching experience levels, and Paula could not dismiss it merely because she disliked the framing. She called Elena and asked her to confirm that Nia had disclosed prior bouts on the original form. Elena said yes.
Paula asked whether Nia's registration number matched the copy submitted during the transfer. Again, yes. Finally, she asked whether the old club could independently verify the history. Elena had already requested that the old coach was gathering the archived sanctioned records from Baltimore. The entry stays provisional until the source check is done, Paula said.
I can explain the status, but I can't invent a number that the database hasn't shown me. I wouldn't ask you to, Elena answered. I just want the correct number reviewed, not the wrong one treated as fact. That evening, Elena told Nia what had happened. They were alone near the equipment shelves after the beginner class left.
Elena kept her voice quiet. Not because the information was shameful, but because eligibility details were not a spectator sport. Somebody filed a formal question, she said. Paula has to answer it. Nia stared at the strap of her duffel.
So they can keep me out by making somebody look at a screenshot. They can make the organizers check a legitimate rule. That isn't the same as deciding the answer. The distinction was rational and still painful. Nia had complied with every request.
She had completed the evaluation, earned her place, and given her coach the documents. Now, the missing data might keep her from competing. While the girl who had spread the doubt warmed up in the same room, Nia asked whether an independent review could be requested if the import failed. Ellen explained that the event could accept source verification from the sanctioned archive if the committee completed it before the bout. Otherwise, the bout would have to be postponed or cancelled.
There would be no secret handshake, no unofficial exception. Nia could stand by the information she had provided and continue preparing while the adults did their jobs. After Elena left, Nia sat with Tessa on the bottom row of bleachers. Tessa didn't tell her the situation would work out. She asked whether Nia wanted someone to walk with her to the next session.
It was an ordinary offer, small enough to accept without having to make a speech. "Yeah," Nia said. "I'd like that." On their way out, they passed Avery, Kelsey, and Brooke beneath the lobby notice board. Avery had the registration page open on her phone. Her satisfaction made sense to Nia in a way it had not before.
Avery didn't need an official to declare Nia a fraud. She needed the possibility of doubt to last long enough that Nia might go away on her own. The thought unsettled Nia, but it also made the choice in front of her clearer. She could cooperate with verification without volunteering to be tried by the gym. She could acknowledge the risk of cancellation without treating the accusation as a verdict.
She moved her training alarm 15 minutes earlier and went home to prepare. On Thursday, Avery was alone by the water fountain when Nia approached. The hallway outside the changing rooms was bright and quiet. Most athletes were in a conditioning circuit and the dull rhythm of medicine balls came through the wall. Nia made sure they were in open view of the reception desk.
She didn't want a private confrontation that could be described however somebody pleased. "Can we talk?" she asked. Avery looked at the floor before meeting her eyes. About what? About the eligibility complaint.
I didn't file it. I didn't say you did. Nia let the answer sit for a moment. If you think the match is wrong, asked the officials. If you think there's a safety risk, tell coach.
Those are fair things to do. Avery crossed her arms. And what's unfair? Acting like a page, you know, is incomplete proves I lied. Letting people laugh about me when you know you haven't seen the whole record.
You could show everybody. I showed the people responsible for the decision. Avery shrugged, but she had stopped looking comfortable. Maybe I'm just trying to protect my teammates. People have worked for years to get noticed here.
So have I, Nia said. She did not add where or how many it times or against whom. I'm not asking to take something you earned. I'm asking to compete under the same rules. The words seemed to reach Avery for a second.
She looked past Nia toward the ring where Elena was correcting a child's stance. You come in and get the big opportunity. Avery said, "Everybody suddenly talks about the new girl. I didn't choose what people said. You could have told them what was going on.
"I told Coach. I told Paula. I don't owe a crowd my whole file."" Nia had rehearsed none of this. She wanted Avery to understand one practical thing before the event. The problem could still end as a misunderstanding that responsible adults had cleared up.
There was no need for anyone to make it uglier. Look, Nia said, ""If the paperwork doesn't clear, I don't fight." "If it clears, I fight." I can accept either decision from the people who actually have to make it. But if this is about making me embarrassed enough to leave, stop now. Nothing good comes after that. Avery straightened.
Was that a threat? No, that's me giving you a way to stop. For a few seconds, only the squeak of shoes in the distant gym broke the silence. Avery could have asked about the old record. She could have admitted she was nervous about the bout.
She could have said she hadn't meant things to spread so far. Instead, she rolled her eyes and stepped around Nia. You talk like you're already the winner, she said. No, Nia answered. I talk like I'd rather settle this in a ring with a referee.
Avery walked back toward practice and didn't turn. Nia stood by the fountain long enough to finish filling her bottle. She wasn't triumphant. She felt tired and her hands were shaking just slightly from the effort of saying what she meant without saying more than she could defend. Inside the gym, Tessa was finishing the medicine ball circuit.
She raised her eyebrows as Nia returned. Nia shook her head once, a small request not to ask. Tessa tossed her a ball and resumed counting repetitions. Nia joined her, catching the weight against her ribs and sending it back. Outside the drill, she had offered one final chance for a simple ending.
Avery had chosen not to take it. Friday began with a voice message from Nia's former coach in Baltimore. Coach Raymond Bell sounded as though he'd already made three calls before breakfast. He had located the archived bout history and confirmed that the association still showed Nia under the same athlete number she'd used for years. He was sending the source document directly to the tournament, not through a teenager's messaging account.