If only I could love you

Chapter 9

Dan, once again, stepped through the doors of the old boxing club, and-holy shit-it was crowded! The last time he had been here there had been about five people. This time, there must have been around 200. Many were queuing in front of a desk, so Dan joined the queue. At the front, the same girl from before was sitting at the desk. She looked up at him and chewed on her pencil.

“I-uh- I think I’m on some list?” Dan watched as she slowly lifted a sheet of paper and placed it in front of him.

Then she looked up at him, “Name?”

“Dan Howell,” He pointed at his name, near the top of the list. She crossed his name off and took Dan’s hand.

She drew a red cross on it and then said, “You may enter. Your seat is 8A; it’s in the front row. The match starts in ten minutes.”

Dan walked along the corridor to the main room, which had been transformed. The ring was in the same place, but the weights and punch bags had been moved. In their place were stands, which looked more like rusty scaffolding with benches attached, about ten rows high. They covered three of the walls, leaving the entrance wall clear. Dan’s seat was excellent- it was in the middle on the far side so he had a perfect view of the ring, and the score board which was on the wall above the entrance. He sat down and placed his bag under his seat. He took his phone out of his pocket and sent Phil a text which simply read: “Good luck!”

—

The lights turned off with a crack and suddenly everything went dark. All noise ceased. There was an eerie silence for about a minute before a bunch of spotlights which pointed at the ring turned on with a loud clatter. In the centre of the ring was a short, fat, balding man wearing a white shirt and black trousers. The audience applauded.

The man held a microphone to his lips. “Welcome, everyone, to the annual Islington Borough boxing competition!” He was shouting, rather than speaking. Everyone cheered. “I am your host, and referee, Jamie Richards!” Everyone cheered again. Dan decided to join in. “We have got some fierce contestants for you today! But first, let me go over the rules, for anyone who’s new here.” The crowd began to settle down to listen. “We have three rounds of three minutes each, with a minute interval between each round. One clean, legal hit is one point. The contestant with the most points at the end of the three rounds is the winner. Punches must be on the head or torso. Contestants must not hit below the belt, or they may be disqualified. A contestant must not hold onto another contestant, or they may be disqualified. If I have a good reason, I have the right to end the match.” He paused, and smiled, “Are you ready for the first match?!” The crowd practically screamed, Dan along with it.

“Fighting for the Islington Boxing Club, the amazing Phil Lester!” The crowd cheered uproariously as Phil walked into the ring, shaking his glove-clad fists in the air. He was wearing Baggy blue shorts which stopped just above the knee, and a tight-fitting white vest which showed off the muscles in his arms and made Dan practically swoon. As Phil swaggered over to the centre of the ring, he turned to where Dan was sitting. Since there was little light illuminating the audience, he was sure Phil couldn’t see him, but he smiled and waved anyway. Phil grinned, his teeth covered by a white guard, and bounded over to his corner. He seemed confident, which was good. In the corner, a hefty looking man seemed to be giving him instructions. His coach?

“Fighting for the Hackney Boxing Club, the brilliant Jordan Smith!” The crowd continued to cheer. But as Phil’s opponent stepped through the ropes and entered the ring, a weight dropped in Dan’s stomach. Phil may be pretty muscly and tall, but this guy could be mistaken for the hulk. He was huge. He wore grey shorts, similar to Phil’s, and a black vest. Surely this wasn’t a fair match?!

All too soon, they were taking their positions opposite each other, with the referee between them. Fear rose in Dan’s stomach. Jamie Richards blew his whistle, and stepped back to let the match begin. Both boys began to move in a circle, maintaining eye contact. Phil took the first punch, connecting his fist directly with the other boy’s chin.  Jordan Smith stumbled backwards, but quickly recovered and launched forward with a smooth blow to Phil’s stomach, closely followed by right-hook to his cheek. He was too strong for Phil, Dan could tell. As Phil reeled backwards, clasping at his face, Dan almost had to look away. His mouth was dry and his throat was tight. He didn’t want to see Phil get hurt. Phil was composing himself when Jordan hit him two more times in the left eye. He went for a third hit, but Phil ducked and punched him in the stomach. The scoreboard clacked every time one of the boys hit the other. Dan looked up and the timer and gasped; how had it only been 45 seconds?! Phil lunged at Jordan again but this time he dodged. Phil tried again, and missed again. Jordan was big, but he was quick. Jordan responded with three quick jabs to Phil’s mouth, cutting his bottom lip. Dan clenched his jaw; there was no way Phil was going to win. Phil ducked out of the way to avoid another punch but was met with a blow to his chest. This must have winded him because he gasped, his eyes bulging and fell to the ground. The referee blew the whistle to pause the match and bent down to check on him. Phil nodded and began to get back to his feet. Dan felt sick; Phil was going to continue fighting.

As soon as the referee blew his whistle, Phil’s fist flew into Jordan’s chest, but this only seemed to anger him. He lunged forward and grabbed onto Phil’s shoulder. He began to hit Phil in the stomach over and over again. He only stopped when the referee blew the whistle and pulled him off. Dan was shaking as Phil crumpled to the floor, out cold. The scoreboard read:

Phil Lester: 3

Jordan Smith: 8

As Phil was taken away on a stretcher, Dan stood up and pushed past people to follow. His heart was beating so fast, he was worried it might beat right out of his chest. While walking, he heard the referee announce, “Jordan Smith has been disqualified for illegal holding tactics, and therefore, Phil Lester is the winner!” The crowd cheered, but not as loudly as before. Phil was carried through the double doors to the changing rooms at the back. Dan followed him in.