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“Last house on the right. Got it.”
The houses on Patrick’s street were all monstrous in size with huge front yards. Lots of lush green grass with exuberant landscaping. I pulled into his driveway and noticed his yard was no different than the others on his street and was impeccably kept. His house looked dark and there weren’t cars in the driveway.
“Okay, so tomorrow night. Do you want directions to my place or want me to come pick you up?”
“Um, would it be too much to ask if you could come get me?”
“Nope, it’s why I offered. I’ll be here at five.”
“Okay, but I’ll see you tomorrow morning at karate,” he said as he got out of my SUV.
“Yes, I’ll be there.”
“Later, Hollis,” he said as he shut the door. I made sure he had a key and was able to get inside before I left.
I made it home just in time for dinner and sat down at the table.
“Hollis, I got a call today from your jiu-jitsu instructor,” Dad began as he moved around the kitchen with Mom.
“Yeah?”
“He said he raved about you to a few mixed martial arts trainers, and they might be interested in training you.”
“Really?” I sat up straighter in my chair, interested in the conversation. “What did they say?”
“They’re extremely interested in meeting you. They’ll be at the jiu-jitsu studio tomorrow afternoon.”
I jumped up out of my chair and yelled, “Yeah!”
Morgan set the glasses of water he was carrying down on the table and then high-fived me. My family knew how much I had wanted this, though I hadn’t thought it would be an option until the summer.
“So, if they want to train me, can we say yes?” I cautiously asked. We had talked about looking for a trainer this summer, but that was before we possibly had trainers who were interested.
“If you can keep up your grades, yes,” Dad said.
“Oh my God! Yesss! I’ll keep up my grades, I promise.”
“I thought sixteen was a little young for this kind of training, but your dad talked to your instructor and said training for a young—” She paused and rolled her wrists, as if thinking for the word. She hated using the word fighters.
“Fighter,” I said for her.
“Hollis, you know I hate that term. But yes, your instructor said training athletes for this sport starts young.”
“Young like me?” Chase asked while balancing his spoon on his nose.
“No. A little older than you are, bub,” Dad replied. “Twelve or thirteen.”
Chase gasped and started to laugh as Dad put the basket of dinner rolls on the table. Nestled between the wicker basket and white linen napkin was the Hulk Hogan action figure. We had this running game of sorts in the house with the action figure. Hulk would just show up in random places. Tonight, he was in the dinner roll basket. Dad winked at Chase and pulled the spoon off his nose.
“Okay, guys, while we eat, I need a grocery list for snacks you want for your wrestling show tomorrow night,” Mom said.
“TCF!” Morgan, Chase, and I said in unison.
“It’s so different from entertainment wrestling,” I reminded her.
“You mean, the wrestling on TV isn’t real?” Morgan asked and mocked being shocked by the news. I made a face at him, crossing my eyes and curling my lips.
“Cupcakes, chips, licorice, nachos,” Chase rattled off.
