Fighting the Fall ✔

Chapter One

Chapter One

Lydia Dunst

"Left, right, jab," Coach Dunst ordered. I repeated what he said, each time punching the air while watching Jackson do the combinations perfectly. "Good, Jackson. Again and keep repeating." Left, right, jab, left, right, jab. I repeated until my arms felt like rubber and my breath hitched. I put everything into each punch. "All right, get a drink and we'll work on some different combinations."

I sat on the cold floor and poured water in my mouth. The cold felt nice against my warm, sweaty body. I laid back, watching my chest rise and fall with every gasp. My lungs were too greedy to hesitate, in spite of the scents of hard work and determination mixed in the air.

Jackson sat on the bench opposite me drenching himself in water. He was the newest boxer to join the club, trained by Coach Dunst's partner Daniel Sommers but, until he returned from vacationing in the Bahamas, Jackson was training with me.

"Back on your feet." Coach blew the whistle and Jackson held out his hand, helping me up. "I want the uppercut perfected and then followed by a hook. Speed is key but you also want to have accuracy. Remember that." Uppercut, hook, speed, accuracy. "Good, keep going. I'll be back and then we'll switch to the bags."

"Why are we doing this? I already know how to do this." I groaned. We were doing the basics, things I learned when I had just started boxing. It seemed pointless.

"If you want to be great, you have to know the basics like the back of your hand, like it's second nature. I don't want you to have to think before you react and block, I want you to just block," he explained, using his I'm giving a speech, voice. "You have to train like you're not great. I can't have you getting cocky on me."

With that, he left the room. I stopped when he walked out of view, trying to control my breathing as I peeled the velcro off my wrist. The moment my gloves were off, I wiped the sweat that had collected on my forehead.

"Don't stop now, Lydia," Jackson teased, punching my arm lightly.

"Says the one who's good at this." It was a joke. Sort of.

"Just because Coach doesn't say it doesn't mean he doesn't think it. He probably just doesn't want to because he's afraid you'll think he's going easy on you. You know, because you're a girl and all."

This time I punched him.

He convinced me to put my gloves back on and continue the endless pattern. Left, right, jab.

"All right, let's move on to the bags. Remember to change your weight from your back leg to your front as you punch. Jab, cross, lead uppercut," Coach ordered. "Switch it up every now and then."

I was physically exhausted but I kept going, keeping my head in it. Jab, cross--

"Lydia, keep your feet moving, side to side, backwards, forwards at all times."

I sighed, collected myself and started again.

"You're doing good," Jackson whispered. I nodded. Jab, cross, lead uppercut.

"If you're going to be sloppy, there's no sense in doing it," Coach said harshly. To me, specifically. "That's it for today."

Jackson gave me a whole hearted smile, going through the combination one last time before retreating into the boys' locker room.

I poured the rest of the water left in my bottle over my face.

"I'll see you at home, Lydia," Coach finished and shut the door to his office.