Chapter 22: The Champion

Dev had one leg through the ropes before Finn caught him by the belt.

"He's mine," Dev said. "That hand is mine."

"You had your fight," I said. "I'm the card."

"Birdie."

"Eight is on the card, and so am I." I looked at the man across the ring. "Let me finish it."

Dad gave the Bills Sigh, very quietly, from the corner.

Then he nodded.

Dev let go of the ropes.

The champion stood in his hood, with his hands at his sides, and did not move until the bell.

Then he walked at me, one step at a time, and he made the whole ring feel small.

His jab landed on my guard and knocked the breath out of me through it.

I tried my left. My knuckles screamed, and the shot landed short.

He smothered it with his chest and drove me into the ropes.

His mouth was beside my ear, behind the hood.

"Stahl pays me by the bone," he said, low. "Your hand is next."

I drove my head into his chin to break the clinch.

The referee pulled us apart, and the champion shook his head once and came on again.

"Don't throw it," Cal said at the stool, between rounds.

He was packing ice into the glove.

"Show it to him. Make him watch it."

"He's too big."

"He's slow. He doesn't care about your right because you've never thrown one."

"I threw one in fight four."

"Throw another."

I breathed in. The Cellar was roaring around us.

"If I miss," I said, "I can't hide it."

"You haven't hidden anything since last Tuesday," Cal said. "You'll be fine."