Ziggy Malone's Arc

Chapter 8 of 8

The grappler fight had drained her. Ziggy stood at the ring's edge and felt it now—her legs, the strong climber legs that had carried her up the peak, buzzed and heavy. Across the mat, Jade stretched, fresh and loose. Ziggy knew every trick Jade owned. Jabs at range. Circle left. Drop the back hand to reset. But knowing meant nothing if her legs quit halfway through the round. Dorian appeared at the rope. Ziggy had drilled Jade's counters with her for hours—the tall woman who stated hard truths without softening them. "Your legs are gone," Dorian said. Not a comfort. A fact. "You can't chase her all round. You'll fall over first." "So what do I do?" Ziggy asked. "Pick your moment. One good rush inside. Land it. Don't dance." Dorian gripped the rope. "You slip her jab, you go in low, you finish. You get one. Maybe two." A smaller voice cut in. Emerson, the skinny seven-year-old who'd coached her through drills with Dorian, stood at the fence holding a heart-shaped bundle of pink blossoms someone had left tied to the post. He didn't look at the flowers. He looked at Ziggy's shaking knees. "Wait for her to drop her hand," he said. "That's when she thinks she's safe. Hit her then." He said it plainly, then added, "You only need her to be wrong once." Beside him stood Milo, arms crossed, scowling at the ring. "Your legs look stupid," he said. "Don't run. Running's dumb when you're tired." He almost said more, then shut his mouth. The horn blew. Jade came forward, jabbing, circling left, exactly as Ziggy knew she would. Ziggy did not chase. She covered up and let the jabs sting her arms. Her legs screamed to move. She held still. She saved everything. Jade grew bold. She flicked two jabs and dropped her back hand to reset—the tell Ziggy had traded her surprise to learn. Ziggy exploded off her aching legs. One rush. She slipped inside the reach and drove a hook into Jade's ribs, then a straight to the jaw. Jade stumbled. Ziggy's legs nearly buckled under her, but the shot had landed clean. Jade dropped to a knee. The referee started the count. Ziggy stood over her, chest heaving in the thin air, unable to take another step. She didn't need one. Jade could not beat the count. The referee waved it done. Ziggy had won. She had beaten the fighter who'd beaten her before, the one she owed. Jade looked up from the mat, breathing hard, and gave a short nod. Debt paid the hard way, both directions. Then the crowd shifted, and Ziggy saw her. Her mother, near the front, arms folded, watching. The finals were next. One more fight stood between Ziggy and the win—and her mother had a clear view of every second.