He could feel the two edges of the cartilage rub together.
âNo sparring for you for a couple of weeks,â Saggs told him. âDo some work on the bag today, and take it easy.â
Sol tutted. Heâd been looking forward to letting off some steam, and the bag just wouldnât do it for him. Gregor had not come home last night, and Sol was starting to get worried. He had phoned the depot, but his father had not shown up for work since the crane accident. Sol was considering reporting him missing. He rarely stayed out two nights in a row, and if those two heavies were after him, Gregor might be in trouble.
âI need a few rounds, Saggs,â he pleaded. âThis thing with the craneâs been driving me mad. Just a couple of rounds to loosen up, take my mind off itâ¦please?â
Saggs regarded him for a moment and then nodded. âAll right, youâre in with Nestor. Take it easy.â He turned to the thin-figured, pale boy working on the punching bag. âNestor! Youâre in the ring with Wheat! Heâs got a broken nose, so I just want to see body shots from the pair of you. Touches to the head, nothing to the face. And I want to see you moving those feet, Nestor!â
Once Sol had his head guard on, one of the guys helped him with his gloves. They were Gregorâs old glovesâreal leather, not like the synth-fiber most of the other guys used. After climbing through the ropes, hebounced around on the sprung floor shaking his arms out. Nestor was an easy opponent; skinny and tall, heâd taken up training about a year ago because he was being bullied. He was a bit of a dork, but he was all right. Heâd never be a fighter, though. By the time he was eighteen, Sol would have the build for real middleweight competition.
Saggs called the start, and the two opponents circled each other, both up on the balls of their feet to change stance constantly, trying not to signal their intentions. Nestor was nervous, defensive, and every time Sol moved, his guard twitched. They traded a few easy shots, Sol dodging Nestorâs blows with an easy grace, not even needing his guard. A right hook forced Nestor to cover up, blocking his own view, and Sol followed up with two neat uppercuts to the kidneys. Nestor danced away, but Sol followed. Jabbing into Nestorâs guard, he brought his left around in a hook. Nestor covered his head and lashed out in fright.
His glove caught Sol straight in the nose.
Sol bellowed in pain, his face suddenly on fire, and something snapped. He rained a combination of punches in on Nestorâs head and body, restraint lost in a blind rage. The lighter boy crumpled under his assault.
âSol! Break it up!â Saggs shouted.
Sol pounded Nestorâs guard out of the way, hitting him hard across the sides of the head, once, twice, three times. He followed his final right hook through with his elbow,catching Nestor on the temple. The other boyâs headgear was the only thing saving him from serious injury. Nestor collapsed to the floor and went limp.
âSol!â Saggs roared. âGet the hell out of there, now!â
He ducked through the ropes and shoved Sol back to his corner. âYou part when I say you part!â
Backing against the post, Sol looked past the coach at his fallen opponent. Breathing hard, he felt the animal glory of beating an enemy, but as the pain in his face faded, a sense of shame descended on him. Nestor was struggling to his feet, his nose and mouth bloodied, one of his eyes starting to swell. Sol started forward to apologize, but Saggs stopped him angrily, and Nestor glared at him and turned away.
âYouâre out of sparring for three weeks,â Saggs snapped at him. âIt was an accident that he tagged you. You shouldâve seen that. Hit the showers and cool off. I donât want to see you back here till Monday.â
âYes, Coach.â Sol slipped through the ropes and jumped down