It was a warm Sunday evening. Joe and Katrina were heading out the door to go to the arena when Annie and Reese came walking up the street. "Hey, Trina. Hi, Mr. Beaufort," said Annie. "Where are you heading?"
"I'm going to the WVBA stadium," said Katrina.
"Neat," said Reese. "Who's fighting?"
"Me!" Katrina exclaimed. "I have to take down that jerk who beat up my dad."
"Aw, that's so cool," said Annie. "Who are you up against?"
"Some tall, redheaded guy," said Katrina, tightening her shoelaces. "Ryan or something."
"Aran Ryan?!"
"Yeah, that's the one."
Annie and Reese looked at each other, horrified. They had watched last week's match on the TV, where Joe got absolutely creamed.
"Katrina, you're one of the most loyal, resilient people I know, and I respect that." Reese took her by the shoulders. "But for the sake of your own safety, I am begging you to reconsider. That guy's got a foot and fifty pounds on you!"
"His bicep is like the size of your head!" Annie chimed in.
"Not to mention he's totally nuts!" Reese gave Katrina a stern look. "He beat your dad into a concussion; imagine what he'll do to you."
"I don't care," said Katrina defiantly. "He hurt my father, and I am gonna make him regret it." She edged out of Reese's grip and hopped into the car.
Annie and Reese watched as the two of them drove off. "I hope she makes it out okay," said Annie.
Reese squeezed their girlfriend's hand. "I'll pray for her."
In the WVBA locker room, there stood Aran Ryan, munching on a sandwich made from scraps he found in the lounge fridge. He was feeling confident about this next match. There was no way he could lose!
"I'm watching you, Ryan," said Mr. Sandman, looming over him. "You try any funny business with her, and you'll be dangling off the bridge by your shorts by dawn."
"Stall the ball, Sandy," said Aran, rolling his eyes. "I ain't doin' anything t' 'er."
Piston Hondo gave him a funny look. "喧嘩の直前に食べてよろしいですか?" (Are you sure you want to be eating right before a match?)
Aran scoffed. "Yeah, Glass Joe's li'l spawn is gonna give me a hard time. Oh noo, I'm soo scared," he said mockingly.
Just then, a bouncer knocked at the door urging Aran to hurry up. He polished off his sandwich and hauled off to begin the match.
Piston Hondo watched him leave. "彼はみんなの前で昼食を失うでしょう." (He's going to lose his lunch in front of everyone.)
"Let him," said Mr. Sandman. "He wants to make himself sick, embarrass himself in public, and lose to Joe's kid all in one go, then so be it."
"In this corner," said Pierce, "we have a diehard Dubliner ready to deliver a deadly Shamrock Squeeze, Aran Ryan! And in this corner, she's tiny and mighty, she's Daddy's Little Powerhouse, Chaton Cheri!"
Katrina (or rather, Chaton Cheri) knocked her gloves together to psych herself up.
"So," snarled Aran, "heir ta the bottom o' tha Minor Circuit thinks she's a big shot, huh?"
"Don't patronize me," said Chaton Cheri. "I'm kickin' your butt."
Aran cracked his neck and gave her an evil grin. "Come on, lass. I took down yer daddy; ye can't be that much 'arder."
Chaton Cheri clenched her jaw and squeezed her eyes shut. She tried to repress the memories of bursting into that office to find her father deeply battered and bruised; of walking him to the bus stop on her shoulder, trying to keep him upright; of staring at the ceiling until she fell asleep, paralyzed with rage.
She looked back up into Aran's eyes. "I doubt that."
"Fight!"
The fight began. Now that she was barely a foot away from him, Chaton Cheri was beginning to regret this decision. Aran had a much bigger height advantage over her than she imagined. Nevertheless, she had to win this; not just her own sake, but for her father's as well. She threw a few jabs, but she wasn't able to get a proper hit in before Aran knocked her back with a hook. She stumbled, but kept her balance and came back with an uppercut.
Chaton Cheri thought the fight was going well, until Aran grabbed her and pulled her into a clinch. "What are ye gon' do now, lass?!"
Good question. What was she going to do? Actually, there really wasn't much she could do, besides thrash back and forth to try to break free from his grip. Eventually, she must have gotten him to pull something, because he jerked his arm back and yelped, giving her the opportunity to get out and make him eat glove.
The crowd was amazed by the fight. "彼女にはチャンスがあると思いますか?" Piston Hondo leaned in and asked Mr. Sandman. (Do you think she has a chance?)
"Yeah," said Mr. Sandman. "I'm just waiting to see how long it takes before he hurls."
"Hey, hosers," said Bear Hugger, moving through the crowd to sit with them. "You didn't eat any of that lunch ham left in the lounge fridge, didja? It expired a week ago, I just threw it out."
Piston Hondo and Mr. Sandman looked at each other appalled; Piston Hondo was horrified, while Mr. Sandman simply looked satisfied.
They both knew Aran had put that ham in his sandwich.
Chaton Cheri was getting frustrated with Aran's antics, and finally snapped. "That's all you do, isn't it?! Act like a big bully, because everyone's too scared to call you on it!" clenched her fist as tight as she could and drew back as far as she could. "Well, this is for what you did to my dad!" She cried as she delivered the hardest cross she could muster into Aran's guts.
Ow. Aran stumbled back a bit. Ow. That actually hurt. He took a second to catch his breath and...un-disorient himself or something. That was Joe's kid? He would have believed you if you had told him she was Bear Hugger's, or perhaps even Soda Popinski's kid. But seriously? Glass feckin' Joe's daughter was that strong?
Ugh. What was wrong with him?! There wasn't any way in the world that a little pup like her could hurt him that bad! He had to get back and-oh. No. He couldn't. Oh no. He dropped to his knees. Please, not here, anywhere but here.
Based on all the context clues, you could probably guess what happened next. And seeing as it was really gross, the author has elected to spare you the details. Instead, just imagine Kirby, Lip, and Pikachu playing a nice little game of hopscotch. How sweet.
Luckily, the round ended there, so Pierce shooed Chaton Cheri into her corner and called the medic in to check up on Aran. "What happened out there?" The medic asked.
"Th' little lass got me good," was all Aran said. He was not ready to admit defeat. Especially not to Joe's daughter!
The medic glanced at the mess. "Have you eaten anything today?"
"Made m'self a san'wich 'fore I came out," mumbled Aran, whose face was starting to flush.
"Right before the match?!" Pierce had a 'no wonder' attitude. "Why did you go and do a dumb thing like that?"
"Cos' I wasn' expectin' Glass Joe's wee spawn t' put up such a fight!" The medic put a hand on Aran's shoulder to keep him relatively restrained, while Pierce checked up with Chaton Cheri. "How are you holding up, young lady?"
"I'm fine," tittered Chaton Cheri.
"Listen, this was not your fault," said Pierce. "Turns out this little tummy ache of his came from something he ate before entering the ring."
"I ain't that sick! C'mere, ye yellow-bellied youngwan!" Aran sprung back onto his feet, ready to start another round. He swung a punch...only to lose his balance and fall face-first onto the mat.
Pierce shook his head. "Yeah, he's done." He turned to the audience and shook his hands. "It's over! TKO! Chaton Cheri wins by default!"
"What?! Ye can't do that!"
Aran's weak attempt to protest was cut off by the medic hauling him up and easing him over her shoulder. "Come on. I've got some dramamine in the back. It'll help settle your stomach. Pierce, radio a bouncer to come in here and clean that up."
Chaton Cheri was stunned. That's it? She won? Just like that? All around her, people were cheering and clapping, so she raised her gloves in the air as a sign of championship.
Katrina stored her boxing uniform back into her duffel bag. She was still rather unsure of what to think.
"Katrina!" Joe found his daughter to congratulate her. "Tu étais fantastique, ma belle." (You were fantastic, darling.)
"Yeah, she was great." Some other boxers and audience members were gathered as well. Katrina was flustered. This many people cared that she won by accident?
"You should start bringin' her more often," said Bear Hugger. "I see the Major Circuit in her future."
"I have to try again," said Katrina. "That match was pathetic. Next time, I want to win for real."
"Viens, Katie," said Joe. "On va retourner chez nous et regarder un film ou quelque chose." (Come on, Katie. We'll go home and watch a movie or something.)
Before they could leave, Katrina heard a shout from the back room.
"Quit pokin' at me!"
She turned. As much as she wanted to just get outta there and leave, curiosity got the better of her.
"Look, I left the ring, I took yer drama crap, what else do ye want from me?!"
"Okay, just calm down, getting angry is only gonna make it worse."
Katrina pressed her ear against the door...and fell right into the room, because she didn't expect the door to be open just a crack.
The medic looked at her. "Can I help you?"
Katrina picked herself up off the floor. "I just wanted to know where all the yelling was coming from."
"Well, your, uh, friend here is gonna be okay. He just needs to take these anti-nauseants every few hours and rest up."
"Oi! Tell that li'l gremlin t' go punch a tree! Her and her breadmunchin', pipsqueak ol' man!" Food poisoning was clearly not enough to dampen Aran's fiery temper.
"Hey, uh, nurse chick." Mr. Sandman ducked down to look inside. "That ham he used in his sandwich? It expired like a week ago."
"Well, that certainly doesn't make this case any better." The medic was starting to get real sick of everyone's nonsense.
"Oh, ye deceitful bastard!" Aran was getting angrier by the minute. "Th' secon' I'm back on my feet again, I'm kickin' your arse!"
"Hey hey hey." The medic pushed Aran back and grasped his shoulders. "Breathe." She held him like this until Aran somewhat calmed down.
"As-tu embarrassé?" Joe approached his rival. (Are you embarrassed?)
"No. Sh-shut up." Aran turned his face away so the others wouldn't see him going red in the face. Still, he could feel their eyes on him. Staring. Judging. He turned back around to shout at everyone.
"Quit starin' at me like that!" He cried, his voice cracking. "I's not like I meant to do it!" God, this was one of the most humiliating days of his life.
"Quelques fois, je me sens comme ça." Joe put a hand on Aran's shoulder. "Comme quand je perds un match de boxe." (Sometimes, I feel like that. Like when I lose a boxing match.)
"Shove it, Red, I'm not embarrassed!" Aran snapped, despite noticeably blushing like a cherry tomato.
Katrina was simply stunned. Just minutes ago, she was being held in this guy's clinch, thrashing to get free. And now she felt almost sorry for him.
"Je sais que tu es triste parce que tu étais malade." Joe gave him a warm look. "Allez, on va chercher tes vêtements." (I know you're upset because you were sick. Come on, let's go get your clothes.) He eased Aran back up and took him to the locker room to go get his things.
Katrina waited for her father on a bench. She still wasn't quite sure if everything happening around her was real. Did all of that really just happen? Did she actually beat such a high-ranked boxer; by accident?
Eventually, she could see Joe coming towards her with Aran by his side. Aran was no longer red in the face, instead looking pale. By the time they reached the bench, he was wobbling and looked woozy.
"Tu as besoin d'une minute?" (You need a minute?) Joe sat him down on the bench next to Katrina. Katrina looked at him, and she could see his eyes glistening. Was he going to cry?
"What're ye looking at?" Katrina jumped back as she realized Aran could see her staring at him.
She thought for a minute, then assumed a firm face. "You know why I challenged you for a match today?"
"Cause I concussed yer dad," mumbled Aran, his voice wavering a bit. Katrina caught that waver. He was going to cry.
"Are you gonna do it again?" Even if he was upset, Katrina needed to get through to Aran that he had done her and her father dirty.
"...no," whispered Aran, quivering a bit.
"Ces choses arrivent," said Joe softly, "ça ne te fait pas une mauvaise personne." (These things happen, it doesn't make you a bad person.)
Aran said nothing, only biting his lip. Seriously? He had just had one of the most embarrassing losses of his career, and now Glass Joe and his blummin' daughter were trying to comfort him about it? Had they no self-awareness?!
His train of angry thoughts was cut off when his belly strongly lurched. He groaned, leaning forward and pressing his forearms into his abdomen.
Katrina put a hand on his shoulder. "Do you need a hug?"
"No," was Aran's instinctive response. But after a moment, he thought that night was already horrible, so might as well bite the bullet now. "...yes."
Katrina lifted herself up into his lap and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
"I don' wan' t' be th' bully," mumbled Aran, a hot tear leaking from his eye down his cheek. "I spen' too many years gettin' picked on t' turn 'round an' do it meself."
When Joe put a hand on his back, Aran pulled him into the hug too. "I…" He pursed his lips. Aran Ryan was good at many things; apologizing was not one of them. "I shouldn'ta fought so rough."
"C'est correct," said Joe gently. "Je te pardonne." (It's okay. I forgive you.) He hauled Aran up on his shoulder (which was quite difficult, as Aran was much bigger than him) and led him to the car to take him home.
