This would be bad.
No matter what, this would be bad. Jed had to come up with a game plan--he couldn’t win if he punched, and he couldn’t win if he got punched. He would have to rely on dodging until, by some chance, Amon dropped out from exhaustion. Good thing he was taking their cardio lessons seriously; all that jumping rope was about to come in handy. And then, when he won, of course, he’d tell them about his bones. But only after he proved that he could do this his way.
The two of them got into the ring, and everyone else gathered around to watch. Jed looked back at the audience from his post; Harvey pumped both his fists in the air and Vanessa smiled, taking her notepad out. Her assistants were filming. Unbeknownst to him, Vanessa was already debriefed on Jed’s pulling punches issue, and was eager to see some improvement. Jed gulped. Okay, you can do this. She’s front and center. She wants to know you’re worth it.
“One round. Three minutes.” Amon rolled his neck, suddenly looking very, very intimidating. Jed noticed he was still wearing his full sweatsuit — which meant no camouflaging. Oh god. That was either a really good sign or a really bad one; Amon was about to go very easy on him, or go all in. “Let’s start.”
Jed nodded, but before he can even finish the nod Amon is about to clock his lights out with an uppercut. He swayed back, fast, and, with quick feet, moved to the other side, putting his block up again. Amon caught up, almost immediately, though. He’s ruthless—the smugness that Jed was so used to seeing in his face was replaced with stone discipline and something close to bloodlust, but not quite there. A fist nearing his faltering block slaps Jed out of his daydream, and, thankfully, he’s fast enough to slip away once more, dodging Amon’s blow. Amon, unable to collect himself in time, slips a little from the missed blow. That would’ve been the perfect time for Jed to correct his stance, and go in for a punch of his own, but … nothing happens. Slowly, Amon gets up, and turns towards Jed, who’s just standing there doing nothing!
“JED.” Even his voice sounds different, now—like, an octave deeper. Jed tilts his head, curious why Amon was trying to talk to him mid fight. “Why didn’t you punch me?” His question is definitely more callous now. Jed can tell he’s fed up. He looks over to the audience, and Vanessa’s brows are knitted in frustration with her lip bit.
What on earth is Jed doing?
“I’m …” before Jed can answer, Amon runs up on him, and jumps, trying to crack him in the jaw. Jed almost drops to the floor in order to miss it. Amon lands, hard, on the ground, slamming down face first. He peels himself up, nose bleeding, and faces Jed with gritted teeth. Jed feels weirdly scared, he looks like a wild animal. “I’m going to--”
“You’re… you’re what???” He stands back up, swaying side to side as he does so, and then gets back into his stance. “You’re not even trying!” Jed felt a sudden swell of shame and looked to the audience once more. Vanessa seemed extremely unimpressed — Jed’s heart sank. It doesn't help that each time he catches her gaze, she tears away and scribbles something down. That’s not good.
When he turns back around, Amon is there once more, fist only a second away from connecting with his face. Unable to roll or evade, Jed does the only thing he can. He put his wings up as a sort of wall, and then used them to shove Amon off, who, as he tumbled to the floor, yelled out.
“ARHGHGH. JED!!!” He stood up, and Jed lowered his barricade. Amon rips his gloves off, and then said, patting his chest, “Punch me. Punch me now, and punch me here.” Between his hands, he shifts the colors of his skin to make a sort of target with red and white stripes.
Jed looked at him, and then looked at the audience. Their gazes were sharp and unwaveringly disappointed. Even Harvey seemed confused. Jed stared back down at his feet, feeling dizzy with embarrassment. “But… that wouldn’t be fair.”
“How would punching someone, in a boxing match, be unfair?” Jed’s gaze shifted back to the crowd to see none other than Vanessa chiming in. She stepped out of her seat and neared the ring, placing a hand on the nearby pole. “Jed, I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, but it’s totally unfunny. Amon is your boxing coach. I am your boxing stylist. So…”
This was bad. As Jed witnessed Vanessa’s typically bubbly expression shift to an icy disdain, his eyes darted around, not sure where to focus in order to avoid the compounding pressure. The room around them began to shrink, and his heartbeat sounded unusually loud. He toyed with his fingers inside the glove, attempting to self soothe and prepare for the upcoming public discipline he’d surely receive.
“You’re going to punch.” As she spoke, Vanessa leaned under the ropes, moving towards the two of them.
“I don’t--” Jed tried to respond, tried to explain his predicament, but his sentence fell flat. Vanessa’s interruption didn’t help.
“Ugh! Seriously?? What??” She shook her head, then pointed at Amon’s chest target. “Why’re you making an excuse? You’re a boxer. Just box, Jed! Box!”
“The fight is--”
“Stop.” Amon steps closer. “This fight is over. You lost.” His face is cold. Jed can tell this guy is done with the act, too. “Punch me.”
Jed doesn’t respond.
“Punch me.”
Silence.
“PUNCH ME!” Amon gets up in his face, spitting as he screams at Jed. He shoves him, hard. Then shoves Jed again. It leaves a handprint shaped bruise, but Amon doesn’t notice. He just keeps yelling right in Jed’s face: “PUNCH ME PUNCH ME PUNCH—“
Fine!! Fine! I’ll do it!! Just stop yelling!!
Jed squinted his eyes closed, and then swung, using all the power he could from the ground up. He leaned forward and, as hard as he could muster, punched Amon square in the face. He was sent backwards, fast, and hit into the ropes on the other end of the rings, then dropped down totally limp.
At the same time, there are four, loud, sickening cracks that echo in the otherwise empty gym: one crack is from Amon’s nose, and the other three are from Jed’s middle, ring and pointer fingers crushing beneath the force of the punch and the inadequate padding of the glove. Shakily, he pulled the gloves off, and, along with the rest of the audience, bore witness to three very swollen, mangled fingers. They can’t seem to keep themselves upright anymore, flopping backwards against the back of his hand.
Vanessa got up, hurriedly, and made her way over to Jed. He attempted to move his face to hers but couldn’t meet her gaze--the corners of his eyes were sewn tightly shut and his eyebrows knit together, creating deep grooves on his forehead.
Realizing how bad his fingers looked, Vanessa took Jed’s hand and gently led him to the exit--they needed to get him to a hospital, now. As she moved, there’s a look of confusion and disbelief on her face: how could this have happened? Those gloves are supposed to stop you from ripping up your knuckles, and…he didn’t even punch Amon that hard, despite what his K.O. might lead you to believe.
“Jed, I…”
“I think… I might need to see a doctor.” He replied, jaw clenched so tight his neck muscles bulged, his lips pressed into a tight, thin line.
“Of course. That’s where we’re headed.” Vanessa nodded, eagerly, but was sure he couldn’t see anything through his agony.
Her assistants scrambled in front of them, jumping in the car and getting everything ready. One of them propped the door open for Vanessa and her traveler, and she softly guided him into his seat and fastened the belt. Still holding Jed’s hand, Vanessa fumbled to grab an ice pack she kept in the first aid kit in the back, then cracked it and placed it over Jed’s disfigured fingers, unsure of whether or not this would actually do anything.
“So…” Vanessa said, wiping some of his strained tears. “Is there something you need to tell me, Jed?”
At the same time, Harvey hopped up into the ring and gathered Amon. He slowly, but surely, began to wake up and, to his dismay, saw he was in the grasp of Jed’s weird roommate. Instead of complaining, Amon huffed a somber thank you. Did no one else check to see if he was still alive? Harvey gingerly touched Amon’s very broken nose, and grabbed a tissue out of his back pocket, holding it under his nostrils to stop the incessant blood flow--that hurt. Amon winced, eyes squinting briefly, the sudden pressure sending a shudder down his spine and momentarily seizing control of his breathing. He reached out and squeezed Harvey’s arm, seeking comfort. Harvey squeezed him back.
“I think your nose is broken, dude!! The middle is like waaaay over there!”
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