#Alexis would know about it it's practically her job to keep tabs on every mistake Buttons ever made

[galoogamelady]

Does Tom Cardy know about your Tumblr and who Button is?

I mean I didn't make him go through my tumblr (I doubt he has one). But he knows Buttons is my OC. He's probably more familiar with Buttons' shithead GTAO version though, since Twitter/Insta sees more of that one.

[artificialqueens]

Level Up, Chapter Two (Branjie) - Holtzmanns

“They make ones with velcro, y’know.”

Vanessa snaps her head up and Brooke is sitting down across from her, leaning against the wall of lockers while looking like more of a model than anyone has the right to while all sweaty. Brooke raises an eyebrow, gestures to Vanessa’s failed attempt at her wrap. “Let me.”

“I can do it myself.” Vanessa doesn’t need help; sure she’s a beginner, but she can do it-

“I know.”

AN: Hello hello hello Christine, thank you all SO much for all the kind words about the first chapter. I’m so happy that you guys like it so far. Chapter two time, hope you enjoy.

Thank you times a million to writ for both betaing and being the best support system ever, I love you <3

“The bills-”

“Don’t say it-”

“The bills for the month are here.”

Brooke groans when Kameron hands her the envelopes, monthly reminders of the fact that the costs never end, that they’re scraping to keep the gym afloat. Because it’s not supposed to be this hard, the pipes aren’t supposed to fall apart and the windows aren’t supposed to need replacement and Brooke needs to keep the place alive.

Kameron lifts herself up onto the counter, giving Brooke the look that she always does when she wants to talk. “I know you don’t want to, but it may not be a bad idea to-”

“No.” Brooke doesn’t need Kameron to finish her sentence to know what she’s about to suggest. But she can’t do it.

“Imagine not just the money, but the publicity for the gym-”

“Absolutely not.” Brooke’s voice is flat, and it feels as if it’s reflecting the way she feels inside, the sudden blankness that never fails to overtake her when it comes to thinking about these scenarios. “I’m never competing again. You know that.”

“D’you really think he’d want that for you?” Kameron’s question makes Brooke wince because it’s a low blow, one she doesn’t really want to think about.

“Fuck off, Kam. Don’t you have a class to teach?”

Kameron raises an eyebrow. “It isn’t for another forty five minutes. You ever pay attention to the schedule?”

“I’m not one of the instructors.”

“Which is a shame, y’know. You’d be good at it.” Kameron hops off the counter, resting her face against her palm, and Brooke hums noncommittally, shrugging.

“Managing the administrative piece is enough for me.”

It’s strange, to Brooke, the way that her relationship with boxing has shifted. How one small little event has changed the course of her trajectory, of what she’d been planning on doing with her life. But taking a backseat, solely running the gym, is safe. It’s less of a reminder of what had happened even if she’s in this building every day, even if she’s reminded of her dad by every picture on the wall, each trophy on the shelves.

Kameron’s words replay in her brain as she sits at her desk, figures out the payroll. She could easily hire someone and go back to fighting, to competitions - Kameron’s not wrong about the fact that it’ll bring in more money, more publicity, that the mere presence of her last name alone will be enough to boost talk about her. Maybe then she’d be able to give some badly needed upgrades to the gym, replace the broken mirror on the far wall or maybe get some new punching bags that don’t hold thirty years of practice and sweat. She wouldn’t have to worry about finances every month, about keeping the doors of the gym open-

But Brooke can’t.

She can’t.

She sighs, rubbing her eyes before glancing up at the clock on the wall. The giant poster of her dad that hangs underneath it stares right back at her, and it’s hard, really, to try and ignore his influence when he’s quite literally imposing it on her the same way he did when he had been alive.

What would her dad do, in a situation like this?

The answer comes easily to Brooke. He’d go back to fighting - in fact, he’d never leave, he’d participate in more and more matches the way he always would and then-

Well, Brooke knows the rest well enough. She’s not going to let that happen to her.

Besides, the gym’s going to survive solely because her dad’s eventually going to come back as a ghost and keep the doors from ever closing. Brooke wouldn’t be surprised by it in the least.

She closes the open tabs one by one once she’s done her work, shutting the computer monitor off and leaning back in her chair with a sigh. Her brain feels like a jumble of numbers that she knows she’s going to have to go over at a later time, to make sure she hasn’t missed any mistakes. The ache in her neck and upper back from sitting at the desk the entire day doesn’t fade as she reaches back to massage her shoulders and roll out her neck. She’s not one for being sedentary all day, no matter how much she tries to convince herself of the fact to get through the workload.

But one good part of owning a gym? She can peel herself out of her desk chair and leave her office, shaking off the cobwebs that are surely beginning to weave themselves onto her shoulders. And since Brooke has no qualms about coming to work in athleisure, she can get herself moving and sweating before she even has time to think about it.

It gives her the chance to clear her head, take one of the bags hanging in the back of the gym and just turn her brain off. Practicing her old drills against the heavy punching bag, getting the chance to relish in the recoil as it swings against the chains suspending it from the ceiling checks off an imaginary tick box in her brain, gives her a sense of satisfaction that not much else can. It allows her to give into the muscle memory that’s deeply rooted into her brain and almost feels like an instinct, an ingrained habit.

She doesn’t have to worry about money, or about how she’s going to keep the gym going, or about how her mom really thinks ‘you should try talking to someone, honey,’ or the fact that she still needs to get her car’s oil changed. None of it matters anymore, not when the adrenaline in her system is stronger than the impact of her knuckles against the bag, and the feeling of sweat dripping down her back.

If Brooke punches hard enough, it all goes away. If she hits a combination the way she’s supposed to, she can almost hear her dad on the other side of the punching bag telling her to do it again. She can go back to being in his shadow, still growing, still learning in anticipation of what’s to come. She doesn’t have to carry all of the responsibilities anymore.

But then comes the part when Brooke pulls off her gloves and wipes the sweat that’s dripping from her forehead, unraveling the wraps around her hands to reveal her calloused knuckles. The adrenaline coursing through her body that keeps her from feeling any pain starts to fade as she takes a few breaths, catches herself, only to feel less stable than before.

It’s hard, trying to soothe over a wound with the very instrument that caused it in the first place. It hasn’t worked for Brooke yet, though it doesn’t stop her from trying.

“Rob! Stop smacking lips with Alexis and come outside already! You said you’d practice with me!”

“Vanj, I’m gonna lock you outta this apartment if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

Alexis’ growl isn’t enough to deter Vanessa, not when Rob’s at their place to practice drills with her and not to make out with his girlfriend, despite Alexis trying her best to distract him enough to do so.

Vanessa snickers when Alexis and Rob reluctantly detach from one another. “This is your fault, Al, y’know. If you and Rob didn’t force me to take boxing classes I woulda never gotten into it and never wanted to get better and practice more-”

Alexis rolls her eyes. “And now you’re Rocky Balboa, we get it. If you get to take Rob outside will you shut up now?”

“Aye aye, captain.”

Rob’s grinning as the two of them make their way down to the alleyway beside the apartment complex, an area that has proven to be an ample practice space over the last few weeks. “Now tell me. How much of this is you actually wanting to practice drills, and how much of it is you wanting to annoy the shit out of your sister?”

Vanessa sticks her tongue out at Rob before swiping at his gloves, ducking when he swipes back. “Guilty. Though it’s a shit ton of fun, and I wanna get better for real. How else will I whoop the asses of everyone else in the class?”

“Is that your motivation for everything in life?” Rob grunts when Vanessa puts a little bit more power into her jabs, watching as he recoils back slightly. “Is it because you’re the shortest and have something to prove-ow!”

Vanessa scowls before landing another combination against Rob’s gloves. “You deserved that one.”

But Rob’s right - maybe Vanessa does have something to prove. Not necessarily to the other girls in the class, but more to herself. She’s found something that she enjoys, something that she wants to work on. Something that’s made her punches at least 30 percent more effective. Boxing has made her want to go straight to the gym after work, rather than spend all her money at the bar while fruitlessly scrolling through tinder and feeling her twenties slip away from her in a haze of mediocrity.

Maybe the sensation of becoming quicker on her feet, of being able to execute combinations that she’s never been able to do before, is making her drive grow more and more. Vanessa feels like she’s climbing more than she’s able to do in her job, experiencing a sense of growth that’s bigger than the tiny apartment that her and Alexis share so that they can afford the rent. It’s the feeling of accomplishment when everything else in her life feels like it’s at a standstill.

Well, a feeling of accomplishment in everything except one area of boxing.

“These stupid fucking wraps…” Vanessa grumbles to herself when the fabric unravels on her hand just as she’s about to pin it down, letting out a sigh before wrapping the cloth again.

It’s been almost a month of boxing, and Vanessa still can never get the wraps to sit properly on her hands. They always shift and loosen underneath her gloves, feeling like more of a nuisance than any sort of protection. She needs to get Monet or Monique to show her exactly how to wrap them one of these days, before she does something stupid like throwing them out.

“They make ones with velcro, y’know.”

Vanessa snaps her head up and Brooke is sitting down across from her, leaning against the wall of lockers while looking like more of a model than anyone has the right to when all sweaty. Brooke raises an eyebrow, gestures to Vanessa’s failed attempt at her wrap. “Let me.”

“I can do it myself.” Vanessa doesn’t need help; sure she’s a beginner, but she can do it-

“I know.”

Brooke’s pulling Vanessa’s hands onto her lap and Vanessa’s brain doesn’t have any protests left anymore, not when Brooke’s deftly wrapping the fabric around her hands with a touch that’s firm but gentle. Brooke’s fingers glide over the fabric as she presses it down, smoothing it to Vanessa’s skin to protect her knuckles and palms from the impact that they’ll take once she’s out of the change room.

Brooke’s face is calm as she works, a slight furrow in her brow as she pins the edge of the wrap on one hand to keep it steady. She grabs Vanessa’s other hand and repeats the process, until both of Vanessa’s hands are snug and protected and she’s not quite sure if she wants Brooke to let go of them anymore.

“There. Done.”

Vanessa can feel the way her breath hitches in her chest, even through the normal action of trying to bring air into her lungs. Brooke gives her hands a squeeze before letting them go, and Vanessa brings them back onto her own lap while trying to maintain an air of suaveness that she’s not sure is truly believable.

“Thanks.”

It comes out more sheepish than Vanessa intends it to, but it’s hard to come up with words when Brooke’s looking at her like that, the knowing half smile on her face that somehow knows too much even though Vanessa’s barely said anything.

Brooke grins. “Anytime. Now, don’t you have a class to get to?”

It’s enough to break the imaginary ice because Vanessa rolls her eyes when Brooke cracks up, and suddenly it’s not hard to feel at ease with someone who laughs at her own jokes. She doesn’t miss the way Brooke’s eyes linger on her when she reaches the locker room door, turning back one last time.

“If I’m late, I’m telling Kameron it’s your fault.”

Brooke swings out of her office when Kameron gets her class started on their practice drills. The administration work can wait, because it’s more fun to watch the way the students attempt to bonk each other with the gloves that still are an unfamiliar armour around their fists.

“Monique and Monet haven’t argued yet about who throws a better punch, so I’m considering it a win.” Kameron points to the two girls in the back, and Brooke leans against the wall beside her, tilts her head as she watches.

“These guys a good group?”

“Good as any beginner class.” Kameron shrugs. “They’ve all paid their registration fees and that alone makes them gold.”

Brooke ignores Kameron’s words, the ones that keep reminding her of the way the gym is teetering on a financial cliff that she doesn’t quite want to think about. “Tell me about her.”

Brooke knows that Kameron doesn’t even have to follow Brooke’s gaze to see that she’s talking about Vanessa. Really, how could she not, when Vanessa’s holding her gloves up to her face like it’s her job, just a tad too close but enough for Brooke to see that she’s been paying attention and practicing in class? Vanessa’s eyes are laser focused, narrowed as she hits up against her partner’s gloves and there’s just something about her that Brooke can’t pull away from, a magnetic force that she doesn’t quite understand just yet.

But it’s no matter. Brooke just likes how spunky, how unapologetic she is - someone refreshing enough not to walk on eggshells around her, to not be intimidated by her. Sure, maybe it’s because Vanessa doesn’t know her history or that of the gym but it’s…nice. To meet someone who volleys comebacks at her like it’s second nature.

Vanessa throws a punch at the girl she’s partnered with, who lifts her gloves a second too late and ends up taking the hit. Vanessa lets out a woo , both hands up in the air, before going close to the girl, putting a glove on her shoulder (‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, are you okay?’).

“Hello? Did you listen to anything I just said?” Kameron’s waving her hand in front of Brooke’s face and it makes her jump, pulling her attention away from Vanessa.

“What?” Brooke blinks, running a hand through her hair and trying not to let her gaze shift back to the way Vanessa’s already sparring again. “Repeat that.”

Kameron snorts. “You’re already smitten, aren’t you? She is your type, after all.”

Brooke wrinkles her nose. She doesn’t have a type. Not that she dates much, anyway. “What’s my type?”

“Girls who make you this googly eyed, that’s what. A rare find.” Kameron snickers, nudging her shoulder.

“Shut up.” Brooke rolls her eyes. “She’s just fun to watch.”

“And that’s not a creepy thing to say at all.”

Brooke sticks her tongue out at Kameron, who looks a little too proud of herself. “Shouldn’t you be teaching a class right now?”

“See, I would be, if there wasn’t someone distracting me with conversation right at this very moment.” Kameron gives Brooke a little wave before going back to the class, already yelling about the next drills she wants them to practice.

Vanessa’s mimicking the moves Kameron does as she demonstrates for the class, as if trying to commit them to memory, and Brooke has to hold back a smile. The sight reminds Brooke of when she was younger, so eager and willing to learn and just wanting to be better. And honestly, after all the gym has been through, and as weary Brooke has gotten over the years? It’s refreshing.

Kameron yells at the class to try the drills out on their own and Vanessa’s already bouncing in place, ready to go. Brooke watches as her eyes flit around before landing on hers, and doesn’t miss the way Vanessa pauses, a hitch in her step. Vanessa doesn’t pull her eyes away, tilts her head slightly as if in question, and Brooke can’t help but wink back. Especially when it makes Vanessa nearly miss the jab that her drill partner throws in her direction.

Oops.

Brooke heads back to her office, because she really does need to call the electrician to fix the thermostats and she has to organize the schedule for next month’s classes, even though watching the beginner group get used to their boxing gloves is more entertaining than she wants to admit. The administrative part of owning a gym is menial - tasks that turn her brain off, ones that she could probably hire someone to do, but…she doesn’t mind them. It’s nice, having control over the little aspects of the gym. Making sure everything is running as it should be.

She’s absorbed in the excel spreadsheet in front of her and doesn’t even notice Vanessa in the doorway until there’s a knock on her desk that makes her jump. Vanessa sits down across from her, gloves slung across her shoulder but knuckles still wrapped, 5he light beads of sweat along her forehead and cheekbones and the way she’s still out of breath betraying the fact that the class has just ended. Vanessa slouches in the chair, lifting her leg onto her seat and Brooke can’t help but lean forward.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh, nothing much. Just wanted to check out your digs.” Vanessa’s eyes trail along the pictures on the wall, the awards that line the shelves and she whistles. “Damn. You win all these?”

Brooke snorts. “No. Some of them. Definitely not all of them.”

Truth is, Brooke hasn’t known what to do with her dad’s old trophies and newspaper clippings and memorabilia. She can’t just throw it all away, because it would be wrong somehow and her dad would probably turn over in his grave and as much as it hurts to see…it wouldn’t be right to let it go. But having it all around her isn’t much better, she knows that. It’s become a mosaic of reminders of events that she wants to forget, banish from her mind even though it would feel sacrilegious to do so.

So she just ignores all of it, pretending that it isn’t there. Even though it’s hard to do when Vanessa’s craning her neck up, pointing at the pictures that decorate the surfaces like wallpaper.

“No way. Is that you? Six year old you had abs? What the fuck?” Vanessa’s out of her seat, squinting to read the caption on a picture from a newspaper article.

Brooke remembers when the picture had been taken. She had been competing in a tournament, one that her dad had coached her in and when she’d won, the reporters had wanted a picture of the two of them together. To show off the family legacy, as one would. Her dad had hoisted her on his shoulders and Brooke remembers the way she had felt a million feet tall. Unstoppable. Like all the matches she would ever have would be hers to win, and that she never ever wanted to stop fighting, not when the feeling of winning was so satisfying.

She wonders what six year old Brooke would think of her now.

“You were cute as fuck.” Vanessa makes a little pouting face and Brooke can’t help but grin, roll her eyes.

“Was, huh?”

“Don’t you go fishing for compliments, I see you.” Vanessa wiggles a finger at her and sits back down, leaning her elbows on Brooke’s desk. “Now what you up to here in this little office dungeon of yours?”

“It’s not a dungeon. It has plenty of natural light. Sort of.” Brooke can’t help but try to defend the place, even though Vanessa is right. It is a little bit bleak. “Working on administrative stuff. Not quite that exciting.”

“You’re telling me this stuff is more fun than being out there, beating up a punching bag or two?” Vanessa makes a face as she looks at her, and Brooke shrugs.

“Nah. But I have to do it. So I do.”

Vanessa blinks. “Man, my ADHD ass is hella jealous that you can just do things. You ain’t gotta argue with your brain for an hour about it first?”

“Sometimes, when it comes to the financial stuff. The math always gets me.” Thank goodness they hire an accountant when it comes to taxes.

“Amen to that.”

Vanessa leans back in her chair and Brooke closes the window on her computer, gathers all the papers on her desk because she’s not going to get much done anyway, not with Vanessa here. Instead, she turns her attention back to the girl in front of her. “So, how’s that beginner class treating you? Is boxing everything you thought it would be?”

The way Vanessa’s face lights up is almost cute, as is the way she sits up in her seat. “It’s fun as hell. How’d I not know y’all were hiding this gym from me until recently?”

“Hiding, huh?”

“Anyway,” Vanessa airily waves a hand, “I like it. I wanna take more but there’s only two beginner classes a week. How am I supposed to get better with just two?”

Brooke raises an eyebrow. Vanessa wants to take more? She’s already seen her around when they have open gym nights, and it’s true, Vanessa hasn’t really missed a beginner class since she’s started. Huh.

“Why are you sticking to beginner classes? Don’t think you can handle an intermediate one?”

Vanessa’s reaction is exactly what Brooke anticipates it to be. “Can’t handle-bitch, I’ll show you handling.” Vanessa lets out a grumble as she crosses her arms, and Brooke has to hold back a laugh.

“Try one. I think you’ll be able to hold your own.”

Vanessa can’t stop herself from following Brooke’s advice. She starts attending the intermediate classes, spars with girls who have been taking boxing for years and yes, sometimes she gets her ass kicked when they catch her off guard or are too fast, but-

There’s times where she doesn’t. Times where she’s able to execute a combination perfectly, times where she’s able to get a win or two or three and the feeling is absolutely addictive. Winning. Having Kameron look at her with an impressed expression and having her opponents give her reluctant nods.

She notices the way her arms and legs get firmer to the touch, the way the faintest hint of abs begin to peek underneath the soft layer of her shirt. The way braiding her hair back takes less than thirty seconds now, because the faster she’s able to do so, the faster she can get out on the floor.

Silky and A’keria notice one early morning, when they’re in front of the floor to ceiling mirrors at a shoot that’s going to be paying them well. Vanessa’s trying to focus, she really is, on the strange combination of purple and green that she’s supposed to follow for the model’s makeup, despite the fact that it’s a little too reminiscent of Barney. She rolls her neck once she finishes the model’s cut crease, stretching her arms up to loosen the way her muscles have tensed.

Silky makes eye contact with her as she does, letting out a little whistle. “Damn, Vanj. Since when are you ripped as fuck?”

“What?” Vanessa’s brows furrow until Silky points at her shirt, which has slightly risen up from stretching her arms. She tugs it back down, her cheeks reddening, and busies herself with blending her model’s shadow and hoping she hasn’t noticed.

“It’s cause you always be at that gym.” A’keria tuts, waving her mascara wand. “You ain’t even coming out with us these days.”

“Hey! I came out last Friday.” Vanessa protests, because it’s true. She did. So maybe she went home by 10:30 so that she could get enough sleep before going to open gym hours the next morning, but that’s beside the point. “You guys should try it. You’d like boxing, too. I feel so good these days.”

Vanessa really does. Like Yoda, or some shit. All that she wants to do is go to the gym and train and maybe it’s a bit of a shift from how she’d been about six or so months ago, but it’s fun. Maybe A’keria and Silky would enjoy it, too.”

Except Silky just gives her a look. “You think my ass would ever willingly go in there? What I enjoy personally is going to my couch and watching 90 Day Fiance. ‘Cause I have taste.”

“I prefer my yoga, sorry Vanj.” A’keria shrugs. “That being said, your ass is definitely calmer. You haven’t lost your shit at anyone in ages.”

Vanessa pauses. While A’keria’s statement isn’t exactly true, since she’d gotten into an argument with Alexis this morning about their shared conditioner in the shower, the fact that her ass hasn’t had to be bailed out from the local station in a while is…nice. Even if Rob’s usually the one that books her after one too many bar fights.

“Does boxing teach you to talk about your feelings?” Silky snickers as she sprays setting spray across her client’s face, and Vanessa scowls.

“Want me to break my streak, Silk?”

“Geez, relax.” Silky sticks her tongue out at her. “Big Silk is proud of you for it, y’know.”

“Hmph.” Vanessa tries not to smile as she turns her attention back to her model. “Whatever.”

It’s something that sticks in Vanessa’s mind as her workday ends though, as she grabs her gym bag and heads out for the evening. It’s not that she doesn’t feel as strongly as she used to, because she definitely does. Sometimes things get so overwhelming that all she wants to do is snap and let out the extra energy that feels like it’s building and building and building but…she can’t do it when she fights in the gym. She has to hold back, only throw a punch when necessary and be strategic about it for the strongest impact. And it feels like that strategy has shifted over to other parts of her life, too.

It isn’t her first instinct anymore just to go off on someone. She’s better at holding back, at waiting even when she wants to burst, and she supposes that it isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Maybe Alexis had been onto something all those months ago.

The change room is rowdy when Vanessa finally reaches the gym, changing into her sports bra and leggings like it’s second nature. Monet and Monique are spread out on the ground, lying across from one another and attempting to arm wrestle, and Vanessa shoots a questioning look to Asia, who only shrugs.

“What can I even say at this point?” Asia grabs her water bottle, heads out the door. “See you out there, Vanj.”

Vanessa braids her hair to the sounds of Monet and Monique arguing about arm wrestling techniques and she’s glad, really, that her friends have moved up to take the intermediate classes, too. It makes it fun, and even more so satisfying when she beats one of them while sparring.

It’s nice. Vanessa’s steadily gaining a community around her, and it’s one that she doesn’t want to lose anytime soon.

Kameron’s face is excited when the class comes to an end, when gloves are coming off and water bottles are being picked up for some much needed swigs. Vanessa watches as she grabs a flyer, holding it up for the class to see like a flag.

“You guys think you can hold your own against a bunch of bitches who aren’t from this gym?” Kameron cocks her head, her eyes trailing across the group.

Vanessa can’t help the way she stands on her tiptoes, trying her best to take a peek at the flyer. She’s a bit too far back and is about to poke Monet’s side to ask her to read it out loud, but there’s no need, because Kameron’s voice echoes across the gym before she even has to.

“We’re joining a tournament. Or rather, you guys are. Not much at stake except the entire reputation of our gym and it’s extensive legacy. That’s all.” Kameron snickers, before shaking her head. “I’m playing. But signup sheets are going to be posted on the change room doors for a week, so think about it if you’re interested.”

Vanessa tries her best not to fidget much until the class is over and they’re given the okay to head for the change rooms, and then she can’t hold herself back anymore from wrapping her arms around Monet and Monique’s shoulders.

“So are you guys gonna do it?” Vanessa undoes her wraps, wiggles her fingers, and even though she’s just sparred for an hour and a half, she feels more energetic than ever.

A tournament. Not just sparring in class with her friends, but a real boxing tournament.

“What, the competition?” Asia hums noncommittally, shrugging. “Thinking about it.”

“Come on! It sounds so fun.” Monique sits down beside Vanessa, sticks her leg out to trip Monet as she walks by, and the resulting explosion of swear words from Monet makes Vanessa crack up.

“I’m saying!” Vanessa nods. “We could go and fuck some shit up with people from other gyms.”

“What makes you think that it’s going to be your ass doing the beating, and not getting beat?” Monet snickers, and Vanessa gives her a look.

“Are you forgetting I just won a match against you twenty minutes ago? That memory of yours really has turned to shit with that many hits to the head.” Vanessa volleys back, and Asia and Monique let out twin cackles.

Vanessa’s mind is made up as she catches the subway home, the ache in her muscles from the class not nearly strong enough to dull the possibilities and excitement already beginning to grow in her brain. Sure, she’s never boxed in a competition setting, but why not?

Maybe Brooke will be there to watch the tournament, too.