Jed, now shoved uncomfortably to the side, watched the three women who had commandeered his spot. They had gotten to work so fast, signing forms and divvying up paperwork. Even though they had interrupted him, Jed suddenly felt as if he was the intruder, and this was their big moment. But, something else confused him as well.

Why were they choosing fighters now, in the morning, when more applications were bound to be submitted later?

Then, it hit him.

What exactly did the flier say about the deadline? Jed cast a quick glance at the announcement pinned to the pole. It read: “Applications due September 21st at 12pm.” He looked at the time.

11:55am.

Oh.

Oh!

Panic suddenly shot through Jed, a barrage of critical questions entering his mind: Why’d you sleep through all of your alarms? Why didn’t you double check the deadlines yesterday!?

So many bad decisions. To make matters worse, time wasn’t the only issue plaguing him today. The entry fee was still there—how on earth was he going to come up with three thousand dollars in just five minutes?!

Jed trembled slightly as he took a deep, shaky breath, preparing himself to do something he hadn’t done in awhile: confront someone.

Inwardly, he reassured himself that everything was okay. All he needed to do was get their attention, politely explain to them that they cut him in line, and hope against all hope that Mr. Strigi would take pity on him long enough to receive a fee waiver, which, now, considering the time, didn’t seem likely.

“Um, miss… I think…”

Both girls, sans their leader, spun around at that, glaring at him almost instantaneously. Jed felt uncomfortable. Was he interrupting something important?

The girl on the phone raised an eyebrow, dramatically ending her call to give him her full attention. The pressure was on. He could feel some beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead, and his eyes darted anxiously between the two girls. The once deafeningly loud room seemed to hush, leaving only shallow murmurs and quiet conversations to fill the uneasy silence. Great. Now everyone would hear his awkward attempt at getting his spot back.

“Yes?” The girl with the phone said, “did you need something?”

Jed nodded, trying to ignore his pounding heart. “Um. I just wanted to say that … Ithinkyoutookmyspot.” His words rushed out, finding themselves incomprehensible. “But it’s okay.”

The confusion that had cast itself upon the girl’s face was almost demeaning. She turned to her companion, who mirrored her expression. “Did you hear what he just said?”

She shook her head in a very obvious no. “Can you repeat that?”

“I think… I think you may have accidentally taken my spot in line.”

They exchanged glances again, but this time it was more a glance of mutual understanding rather than disgust. They looked at him, slowly taking each part of Jed in, and then shared a whisper. The phone girl nodded, and turned to get the leader’s attention. Jed had no idea what was happening.

“Vanessa?”

Vanessa waved them off, engrossed in her conversation with Mr. Strigi. “Ugh, seriously, Johann, it’s such a shame you retired from fighting before my time! Designing a wardrobe for you would’ve been amazing. I’ve never worked with an owl before!”

“And I would have graciously accepted your offer,” Mr. Strigi replied. The inflection in their voices made Jed feel even further out of place; as if he was interrupting two long-lost friends reconnecting. The phone girl called for Vanessa again, this time more demanding.

Finally, Vanessa turned around to face the three of them.

“What do you…” The moment she noticed Jed, it was time to get to work. She didn’t even bother finishing her sentence.

Vanessa quickly retrieved her tape measure from her utility belt—which was hot pink and adorned with intricate lace, ruffles, and pearl beading. It wasn’t the most practical look for a work belt, considering all the stray pieces that were just begging to get caught on something, but it was a charming accessory nonetheless. She stepped closer to Jed, who stood frozen. To her, he looked like a marble sculpture that was waiting, no—begging—to be transformed. Painted over. This was going to be fun.

With gentle precision, she began.

First, she measured his broad shoulders, then his height, then his waist. As she moved all along him, a quick stab of fear gripped Jed. If she were to push too hard, she could leave him with a nasty bruise—or worse. The thought of anything breaking or fracturing in public was his worst nightmare. Before Jed really got the chance to worry about anything, Vanessa shot back up, abruptly, and brought their faces close.

Not expecting that, Jed held his breath, eyes locked with hers. At that moment, the two of them shared a similar thought: there’s potential here. For Jed, that meant the potential to meet someone who would save him from his mundane existence. For Vanessa, the potential lay within the blank slate she saw Jed as. Both of them were eager for new beginnings.

“Okay. I can totally work with this.” Vanessa chirped, stuffing the tape measure back onto her utility belt. Jed liked her voice, and he especially liked the bubbly enthusiasm it carried. Everyone at his job always sounded so… depressed.

Realizing they hadn’t been introduced, Vanessa piped up once more: “Hi there! What’s your name? Who’s your trainer? What’s your competitor number?”

“Um.. What?” Jed exhaled a huge breath as he answered, not realizing he had been holding it in from earlier. He had no idea what she was talking about, which made him suddenly feel even more out-of-place, and his awkward posture made that quite obvious to any passersby. As he leant against the registration desk, Jed surveyed his surroundings. Each turn of the head brought buff guys talking confidently with their trainers, boxers posing for pictures with fans, or schmoozing industry professionals into his line of sight. Jed was the only one still on line, still trying to sign up this late.

A strange silence befell the five of them but, surprisingly, Mr. Strigi came to his rescue.

“Miss. Vanessa, may I interject?” He said with unusually refined eloquence, each word carefully enunciated. Jed wondered why he was a sign up desk worker if he was so fancy. “The gentleman here was, in fact, already in line. He was coming to enroll independently. He does not boast the guidance of a trainer and, well…” He leaned in, putting a hand to the side of his mouth in an attempt to mask his whisper. “It appears he’s rather… uninitiated… in the pugilistic arts. One might even venture to say he’s never even donned the gloves before.”

Vanessa’s gaze shifted slowly from Mr. Strigi to Jed, praying this wasn’t the case. Clinging to her ever present glimmer of hope, she double checked: “Wait, seriously? You're telling me you've got zero experience and no one to vouch for you?”

Jed nodded sheepishly, feeling that familiar sting of shame and regret that followed his impulsivity. Making life-altering decisions on a whim seemed to be his forte, but now, the consequences were starting to set in. He felt exposed, anxious about how this might kill his first impression. He didn’t want Vanessa thinking he was an idiot. Jed felt silly.

“Can you at least cover your entry fee?” Vanessa prodded

And, there it was.

This question solidified that he was past the point of ever achieving his dream.

“No. I’m sorry. I don’t have any money, and I don’t have any sponsors. I don’t even fight. I just sometimes work out.” He looked to Vanessa, searching for any sign of reassurance, but her face remained impassive, the air around them silent. “I just, um, I didn’t think that it was so expensive to join and… I thought I could, like… figure it out as I went?” More silence. “I think… I think I’m going to go now. Maybe… maybe next bracket, when I have enough money saved up, we’ll bump into each other again, and you can do your measuring thing, and then—”

“Is your hair naturally that color?” Vanessa interrupted. He didn’t expect that question, and he certainly didn’t expect her to still sound so upbeat.

“Yeah.”

“So it’s just white and blue naturally? No box dye on that?!”

Jed nodded, trying to catch up with the sudden change in conversation. Did she even hear a word he said? He didn’t have the money or experience to do this thing. “Sometimes I get gray hairs, too.”

“And your freckles, are they real? Not tattoos?” That was an interesting question. Tattoos? Jed wondered why Vanessa would even consider that.

He nodded.

“And… you’re a hard worker? You figure stuff out quickly?”

Now, that was a loaded question.

Jed took a quick inventory of himself—was he a hard worker? He didn’t finish high school, and he didn’t go to college, but he did work forty hours a week at a job he hated. So, maybe? And, when it came to figuring things out quickly, he was able to jump into his job at the call center, skipping the recommended week of training so… not to brag, but yes. He could definitely figure stuff out quickly.

“I think so?”

“Alright, babes! Then,” Vanessa started digging through her seemingly never-ending bag, her metal bracelets clanging around. As she scoured depths, Jed could hear the sound of paper after important paper crinkling. Eventually, she managed to retrieve her checkbook. She scribbled down Jed’s entry fee in the amount section, and in comments wrote ‘sponsorship.’ “Here, Johann. Take this, get him all set up with a profile, and mark that the entry fee’s been paid in full, 'kay?”

Mr. Strigi took the check and placed it inside the cashbox. “Very well, Miss. Vanessa. I trust that you’ll do your best to make the necessary preparations in accommodating him as a full time client. He will undoubtedly present a unique challenge.”

Vanessa smiled at that, wryly, she said, "Well...it looks like we've got ourselves a total rookie here! Don't worry, babes. We'll turn you into a fighter in no time. What’s your name?”

“Jed Love.”

Vanessa seemed impressed. “See? He’s totally marketable.”

“Marketable for what?” Jed added, confused.

“Well, Jed.” She hopped up on the table, sitting next to the computer. As she spoke, she took out a notepad from her bag, flipping to a section titled: “2073 Clients,” writing Jed’s name down.

Jed watched her move, watched as the pen swirled, her handwriting the perfect script. She wrote each cursive word with big loops and replaced the dots with hearts. “I’m Vanessa. I’m a designer from the inner city, here on a work visa. My whole gig is turning fighters, like yourself, into a brand before they even step into that ring.”

He stared at her, fascinated. “I’m going to work my magic on you, Jed. Gonna give your entire person a total makeover. When I’m done, everyone will be All. Over. You!” She flashed him an excited grin. Jed felt a rush of confidence, suddenly sure he could do this thing despite being completely clueless about boxing. “Even if you don't snag the big win, that’s okay! You’ll be so rich and famous here, that monetary prize won’t even matter, babes.”

Jed nodded, the building hope settling comfortably within him. Vanessa motioned for assistant #2 to give something to him. Frowning, she half heartedly surrendered the phone she had been using to Jed. Right after, she pulled another, newer model from her pocket.

“Okay, Jed Love! We’ll hit you up on this. You better be ready to kick things off by Monday. I can’t wait to work with you!”

And he couldn't wait to start working together, either. Was this what it felt like to be special?