The Boxing System: I Became the King of the Ring-Chapter 37: The Morning After

Danny’s van pulled up to Marcus Garvey around eleven at night. The building sat mostly dark except for security lights and the front door where Mrs. Rodriguez waited. Her face showed worry lines.

She took one look at Javier’s stitched eyebrow and Tommy’s swollen face. Her hand flew to her mouth.

"Ay, Dios mío! What happened to you boys?"

Tommy managed a tired grin through his split lip. "You should see the other guys."

Mrs. Rodriguez crossed her arms. "This isn’t funny, Tommy. You look like you got hit by a truck."

Javier just wanted to shower and sleep. His head pounded. The stitches pulled when he talked. "We’re okay, Mrs. Rodriguez. Just tired."

David and Kevin peeked out from the TV room down the hall. Their eyes went wide.

"Holy shit, what happened to your face?" David whispered.

Grey appeared behind them like a ghost. "Language. Get back inside. Now."

The boys scattered, but Javier could feel their stares following him down the hallway.

Mrs. Rodriguez walked beside them, her voice soft but firm. "Dr. Vasquez wants to see you both first thing tomorrow. No arguments."

"Yes ma’am," they said together.

The hot shower felt heavenly. Javier stood under the spray, careful not to wet his stitches. The water turned pink as dried blood washed away. His ribs ached where Antoine had landed body shots.

In the mirror afterward, the damage looked worse than it felt. Purple bruising around his left eye. His lip was still tender and swollen.

Tommy groaned from the next sink. His black eye had darkened to deep purple. "My head feels like it’s gonna explode."

"At least you don’t look like Frankenstein," Javier said, touching his stitches.

"Frankenstein’s monster," Tommy corrected. "Frankenstein was the doctor."

"Nobody likes a smart ass."

They walked back to the dorm in comfortable silence. Other residents were already asleep or pretending to be. The familiar sounds of the group home felt safer.

Javier climbed into his narrow bed and pulled the thin blanket up to his chin. Every muscle ached, but it was good pain. Earned pain.

Tommy’s voice drifted across the dark room. "We really did it, huh?"

"Yeah. We really did."

"Think we’ll get better?"

"Has to happen. Can’t get much worse." 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

Tommy’s quiet laugh turned into a wince. "Don’t make me laugh. Hurts my face."

Sleep came fast and deep.

**************

Morning light stabbed through the barred windows like needles. Javier woke to the sound of Tommy throwing up in the bathroom.

"You okay?" Javier called out.

"Dizzy," Tommy’s voice echoed off the tiles. "Everything’s spinning."

Javier sat up slowly. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. The stitches pulled tight when he touched them.

In the bathroom mirror, the damage looked even worse in daylight. The bruising had spread overnight. Yellow and purple shadows surrounded his left eye.

Kevin walked in while Javier was brushing his teeth.

"Dude, you look gnarly. Did you really fight in the Bronx?"

"Yeah."

"Was it scary?"

Javier paused, toothbrush hanging from his mouth. The kid was maybe fourteen. Still had that group home hunger in his eyes. Still believed tough guys were the answer to everything.

"Yeah. But we didn’t run."

Kevin nodded like that meant something important. Maybe it did.

The cafeteria buzzed with whispers when they walked in. Mrs. Rodriguez was already at the stove, frying eggs and stealing worried glances at their faces.

She loaded their plates with extra eggs, bacon, and toast. "Eat. Fighting boys need food."

Carlos looked up from his usual spot by the window. "Man, you guys are crazy. I’ll stick to soccer."

"Smart choice," Tommy said, carefully chewing with the good side of his mouth.

David slid into the seat across from them. "Did you knock anyone out?"

"Nah," Tommy replied. "But we went the distance. That’s something."

"What does going the distance mean?"

"Means we didn’t quit," Javier said. "Even when we wanted to."

The questions kept coming. How hard did they hit? Did it hurt? Were they scared? Javier answered what he could, but kept it simple. These kids had enough violence in their lives already.

The breakfast noise died when Dr. Vasquez walked in. She took one look at them and pointed toward the door.

"My office. Both of you. Now."

**************

Dr. Vasquez closed her office door and pointed to the chairs. Her face was serious but not angry. More like a mom whose kids came home with bloody knees.

"Tell me what happened. All of it."

Javier shifted in his chair. The stitches pulled when he moved. "We sparred with kids from the Bronx. Both lost. But we went all three rounds."

"I can see that." She leaned forward and touched his eyebrow gently. "Who stitched this up?"

"Ring doctor at their gym."

"Good work. No signs of infection." She turned to Tommy. "How’s your head?"

"Hurts. Everything’s kinda blurry."

Dr. Vasquez held up her finger. "Follow this."

Tommy’s eyes moved slowly as she traced left and right. His pupils looked different sizes.

"Concussion," she said, making notes. "No training this week. Maybe two weeks."

"But Dr. Vasquez..." Tommy started.

"No." Her voice cut sharp. "Your brain is swelling, Tommy. One more hit could put you in the hospital."

Tommy slumped back in his chair.

"You missed school Friday for this fight," she continued. "The school approved your boxing program, but they’re watching your attendance. What happens when you miss more days for this?"

Heat crawled up Javier’s neck. "We won’t miss school. We’ll be smarter about it."

"Getting your face split open isn’t smart, Javier."

"It’s not about being smart. It’s about learning." Javier’s voice got stronger. "Miguel says every real fighter remembers their first real test."

"And what did you learn?"

Javier thought about Antoine’s hands. The way he made everything look easy. "That we’re not ready yet. But we didn’t quit when it got hard."

Dr. Vasquez set down her pen. "Being tough won’t stop brain damage, Tommy. Won’t prevent your face from getting permanently damaged, Javier."

She opened their files and wrote for a long moment. "Our nurse will check you both tomorrow. Any signs of serious problems, boxing is done. Forever."

"Yes ma’am," they said together.

"And if your grades drop below C average..." She didn’t finish the threat. She didn’t need to.

"We understand," Javier said.

"Good. Now rest. No physical activity. Let your bodies heal."

She looked at them one more time. "I know you think this makes you a man. But you’re still my kids. And I won’t let you destroy yourselves."

Tommy nodded slowly. "We know you care."

"Then act like it."

**************

They found Carlos in the common room, surrounded by papers. Official documents covered the table like someone had emptied a filing cabinet. Spanish visa forms, Real Madrid contracts, medical records.

Isabella Martinez’s voice came through his phone speaker. "The medical exam is scheduled for Tuesday. Bring your vaccination records and birth certificate."

Carlos pressed the phone closer to his ear. "Tuesday’s so soon."

"Just routine. You’re a healthy young athlete. Nothing to worry about."

Carlos hung up and stared at the papers. His hands trembled slightly as he shuffled through them.

"You okay?" Javier asked, settling into a nearby chair.

"March fifteenth. Less than two months from now, I’ll be in Madrid." Carlos shook his head. "My whole life fits in these papers."

David looked up from his comic book. "You’re really leaving us?"

"Yeah. Really leaving."

"Man, that’s crazy. I can’t even imagine leaving Brooklyn."

Tommy, ice pack pressed to his face, managed a smile. "At least you’re getting out doing something you love. We’re getting beat up for ours."

Carlos laughed. "Soccer players are smarter. We avoid getting punched in the face."

"Smart doesn’t always get you where you need to go," Javier said.

"No, but it keeps your brain working." Carlos gestured at Tommy’s black eye. "How’s that feeling?"

"Like someone hit me with a baseball bat. But I’d do it again."

"Why?"

Tommy thought for a moment. "Because I lasted three rounds with a real fighter. That’s something I never thought I could do."

Carlos nodded slowly. "That’s something, I guess."

The afternoon crawled by. Javier’s stitches itched like mosquito bites. Every time he reached to scratch them, Mrs. Rodriguez appeared from nowhere.

"Stop that. You want them to scar worse?"

"They already itch."

"That means they’re healing. Leave them alone."

Tommy fell asleep during cartoons and woke up confused about what show was on. Dr. Vasquez made more notes in his file every time it happened.

Kevin sat down next to him on the couch. "Are you nervous about school tomorrow?"

"A little. People are gonna stare at my face."

"What are you gonna tell them?"

Javier touched his stitches. "The truth, I guess. That I got into a real sparring match."

"Think they’ll believe you?"

"Doesn’t matter if they believe me. It’s what happened."

Kevin picked at the couch cushion. "My teacher asked where you guys were Friday. Dr. Vasquez said you had a boxing thing."

"What’d the other kids say?"

"Marcus called you crazy. Said boxing is for thugs."

Javier just nodded. Some people would never understand.

**************

Evening brought quiet time and homework. Tommy sat on his bed reading the Muhammad Ali book from Christmas, squinting at the small print.

"My head still hurts when I try to read," Tommy said, closing the book.

"Maybe you should rest more."

"Yeah, probably." Tommy set the book aside. "But I’m getting tired of resting."

Javier looked up from his math homework. "Better than getting your brain scrambled worse."

They worked in comfortable silence. Outside their window, Brooklyn looked the same as always. But something felt different about how Javier saw it now.

Dr. Vasquez stopped by during her evening rounds.

"How are you feeling?" she whispered to Javier.

He touched his stitches gently. "Sore. But okay."

"Any regrets?"

"About boxing? No. About getting my face split open..." He paused. "Maybe a little."

Dr. Vasquez almost smiled. "That’s more honest than I expected."

"We’re not stupid, Dr. Vasquez. We know it hurts. We just think it’s worth it."

"Why?"

Javier thought for a moment. "Because we’re getting good at something. Something that’s ours."

She squeezed his shoulder. "Just don’t lose yourselves trying to prove something."

"We won’t."

After she left, Javier lay awake staring at the ceiling. His phone buzzed with a text from Miguel.

"How are you feeling, kid?"

Javier typed back. "Sore. But I’m ready for tomorrow."

"Good. We got work to do."

He put his phone away and closed his eyes. Tomorrow meant school. Stares and questions about his face. But that seemed small now compared to what he’d already been through.

Sleep came easier than he expected.