Post-show. My favorite time.

Everyone who wanted to congratulate anyone is doing it outside the gym. The janitors don’t get to cleaning until after school closes. None of the students ever want to start the clean-up.

So it’s where I go after every event. I just stand in the middle of my world and take everything in. As disheartening as it is when you’re in the moment, when you’re out of it, there’s nothing more beautiful than empty bleachers.

There was magic here and it is still echoing, reverberating off every wall and every post. This is when I soak it all in and take it with me into the real world. I can handle anything out there as long as magic can exist here. The best part? I don’t have to share it with anyone.

Which is why that one person in the hood still here is pissing me off beyond belief. The hood creates a shadow that almost looks like a superhero cowl in the light. Still, less obstructive, so they seem to be a guy’s build.

“You’re in my sacred space, Batman.”

They roll into the ring with me, the hood coming down. A luchador mask, decked out in red and white. He speaks so straightforward.

“Interrupting your personal Communion was not my intent.”

I recognize him. “El Tiburon? But you’re – “

“I know who I am. I know who you are.”

“I’m nothing. I’m nobody. At least not anybody worth noticing.”

“That’s too bad. Because word going around the school is you’re looking to get to some higher ground.”

“Maybe.”

“No. No maybes. You want to go higher, you gotta have conviction. Corazon de campiones. You have this, yes?”

“Failed Spanish I twice, bro.”

“The heart of a champion. I know you have this.”

I scoff. “Obviously.”

No attempts at me shrugging him off seem to faze him. He smirks. There’s something in his eyes. Is that…pride?

“You have something more. A fire. It burns you from the inside out.”

“Is this what I gotta look forward to when I become a senior? Because this Yoda wisdom trip is lit.”

What? His conviction was convincing. But something ain’t right.

“Hold up. I only ever told Mr. Watts about all that.”

“There are three places that always have ears, chica. Places of work, places of combat, and Twitter.”

“You just said Twitter three times. That’s redundant.”

He waves it off.

“No matter. A hidden fire is always discovered by its smoke. Here is a blaze that even the most blind fighter could not ignore.”

“Doesn’t matter. No one cares about me or this title or anyone I’m supposed to fight for. Plus, I need to beat the other four champions of the school. That in and of itself is a tall task.”

“No you don’t. You only need their approval.”

Hadn’t thought of it that way.

“Say what?”

“A true warrior wins their battles without fighting, Grimes. You don’t need to beat anyone. You just need them to agree that you are better.”

“Again, you’re being redundant.”

“Some of them only know violence as the be all, end all. But they are all students. They can be reasoned with.”

“Why are you sharing all this with me? What’s an arts kid even doing talking to me?”

“You know who I am. I am insulted you’d forget. I’m not just some arts kid.”

He takes off his hoodie, revealing a beautiful championship belt modeled to look like a giant gold Aztec coin.

“I’m the third best thing in these halls. You have my respect. And I want to help you reach the top.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“I’m gunning to be better than you. Why help me do any of this?”

He smiles.

“Because I can.”

I have so many more questions for this masked man, but I can’t help thinking of one crucial thing: of course the Lucha Legion Championship looks hella better than mine.

---------------------------------

The guidance counselor bows before me like the obedient servant he is. My man candy domineers over everything else in the room except my shadow, which still eclipses his. Somehow, despite his big gold belt, the allure of the bastion of a boy that is Dante Blair pales in comparison to my mere presence. That is, if I do say so myself and oh yes I do.

It is good to be the Prez.

Or, it normally would. Just not today. Not right now. I make sure to drench my voice with extra disappointment at the sniveling rodent of a man before me.

“She’s been seen with whom now? The Shark?”

“Yes, your Presidency.”

“She’s really serious about this.”

“I keep wondering why she wants to climb in the first place.”

Dante’s voice booms through the room like he was clearing Mach 5. “It’s because you told her she doesn’t matter, doofus.”

“But what is the end goal?”

I roll my eyes. “You really are thick, Watts.”

Dante finally presses himself off the wall he was leaning on. “What is more important than the SCHS Kings of the Ring Heavyweight Championship? Absolutely nothing.”

The rodent shrinks. “oh.”

I massage one of Dante’s large biceps. “Don’t fret, sweetheart. She is no threat yet, even with a little bit of help. We will deal with her accordingly.”

I turn, sharp as a spike, to No-Good Glemmy.

“And you, you overgrown condom failure. She has to see you before her next defense. At least try not to be so transparent next time?”

“Your wish is my command.”

Don’t insult me. My wish is for the good of this school, my commands the anthems that uphold its values.

I am Gwen Goro. I like the business side of wrestling. The business truth of it is a wrestler is only as good as how they are booked. And it is time to do some re-booking.