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Description

I breathed a bit hard while starting to calm down. The whole thing had probably lasted only a minute.

Fight club, check.

Meredith had walked out promptly and was studying her clipboard.

“Rhylee vs. Aspen,” she called.

Rhylee was sitting to my right, and I evaluated her as she stepped down and onto the mat. She was short but possessed an athletic, toned body, and a good-looking fight stance as she threw a few warmup air jabs wearing a pink top and white jeans.

The other girl was evidently sitting higher up the bleachers behind me. As she stepped down along the tops of the rows toward the mat, she placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it a little as she passed beside me.

That was nice, I thought, congratulating me on my win. Fight club was surprisingly cordial.

As she continued down, I took in her walk, her clothes, and her body posture.

I experienced a cold chill.

I’ve only ever known one girl named Aspen, but I’ve known her for 20 years. And now, she, my very own sister, was standing in the middle of the circle in front of me preparing to fight.

My sister, three grades my junior growing up, did everything that I had done, but she had to do it better. Soccer, track, swimming, it didn’t matter. Her goal tally was higher, lap times faster, and dive scores higher. She was an inch taller than me by her freshman year of high school. I went on my first date when I was age 16, she went on her’s at 15. She was captain of the cheerleading squad. She followed me to SDSU and made the honor roll her first two semesters.

About the only thing I had over her were bigger boobs, and someday I was sure she would remedy that too.

Regardless of all the time she spent annoying me, I loved her and didn’t like seeing her in front of me now wearing high waisted jeans, a green and blue sport top, and blue gloves.

Meredith didn’t care what I thought. “Fight!”

It’s okay, I tried to calm myself, she can take care of herself. Like me, Aspen had taken up MMA in college, just after I graduated. She was presently, in fact, still on SDSU’s fight team, participating in the collegiate league. She had earned a starting spot this past year, her sophomore season, but after winning her first match had lost her second and third matches, and was frankly in danger of losing her spot to a teammate.
I pleaded for a short fight. Aspen, like me, was partial to offense, and started with a big left leg kick.

Description

I breathed a bit hard while starting to calm down. The whole thing had probably lasted only a minute.

Fight club, check.

Meredith had walked out promptly and was studying her clipboard.

“Rhylee vs. Aspen,” she called.

Rhylee was sitting to my right, and I evaluated her as she stepped down and onto the mat. She was short but possessed an athletic, toned body, and a good-looking fight stance as she threw a few warmup air jabs wearing a pink top and white jeans.

The other girl was evidently sitting higher up the bleachers behind me. As she stepped down along the tops of the rows toward the mat, she placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it a little as she passed beside me.

That was nice, I thought, congratulating me on my win. Fight club was surprisingly cordial.

As she continued down, I took in her walk, her clothes, and her body posture.

I experienced a cold chill.

I’ve only ever known one girl named Aspen, but I’ve known her for 20 years. And now, she, my very own sister, was standing in the middle of the circle in front of me preparing to fight.

My sister, three grades my junior growing up, did everything that I had done, but she had to do it better. Soccer, track, swimming, it didn’t matter. Her goal tally was higher, lap times faster, and dive scores higher. She was an inch taller than me by her freshman year of high school. I went on my first date when I was age 16, she went on her’s at 15. She was captain of the cheerleading squad. She followed me to SDSU and made the honor roll her first two semesters.

About the only thing I had over her were bigger boobs, and someday I was sure she would remedy that too.

Regardless of all the time she spent annoying me, I loved her and didn’t like seeing her in front of me now wearing high waisted jeans, a green and blue sport top, and blue gloves.

Meredith didn’t care what I thought. “Fight!”

It’s okay, I tried to calm myself, she can take care of herself. Like me, Aspen had taken up MMA in college, just after I graduated. She was presently, in fact, still on SDSU’s fight team, participating in the collegiate league. She had earned a starting spot this past year, her sophomore season, but after winning her first match had lost her second and third matches, and was frankly in danger of losing her spot to a teammate.
I pleaded for a short fight. Aspen, like me, was partial to offense, and started with a big left leg kick.