Monument Wrestling Academy was just barely located in Monument itself. It straddled the border of Wickburg, housed in a small former plastic factory on the Nashua River. When scouting for the location, Jodie and her father had argued incessantly; he wanted to set up downtown off of Mechanic St, where the foot traffic was heavy due to all of the shops and restaurants, but Jodie insisted that they be closer to the commuter rail while stretching their dollar on square footage in a less “desirable” part of the city. She’d won in the end by reminding him that the business loans were in her name, and eventually he conceded that she made the right decision.

Jodie parked the car in front of the unassuming beige building in an industrial park, finished her cigarette, and stomped the butt into the ground. With a Dunkin Donuts cup in hand, she head to the front door to unlock it. Several students were already there and loitering by the entrance, either looking to gain access to the exercise equipment or train in the ring. It took almost no time for Mitch to be surrounded by his peers, and he was intentionally elusive as he fielded questions about his current state. Off to the side, Jodie loudly cleared her throat and that drew everyone’s attention away from him. His heart hammered, and he was never more grateful for her impeccable timing.

“Come on, kids.” Jodie held the door open long enough for the person behind her to take it. Mitch waited until everyone else had gone on ahead before following suit, instinctively lingering along the edges of the small crowd. Old habits die hard, or so they say.

Once inside, he made a beeline for the office to escape just how out of place he felt. Jodie was already there, standing in front of a large mounted white board with a marker in her hand.

“Obviously you can’t be a contender for the title now,” she plainly stated without even looking at him. On a mostly filled bracket, a line was drawn through his name and Lagoon Goon’s was moved forward. “This sucks.”

He didn’t respond, and instead took a seat on the worn leather sofa that was next to the door. From the corner of his eye, he could see students in the training area that were getting ready to spar in the ring. As if on cue, his shoulder throbbed and he reached up to rub the damaged area. He gave into the temptation of checking his phone, only to find messages from Calvin about getting in contact later so they could figure out how Mitch could collect his things. Only been 12 hours had passed, the body wasn’t even cold.

He exhaled and threw his head back. It was growing difficult to break the waves of alienation that’d shown up at his shore and threatened to knock him down.