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uppercut - frerard

one

Frank was in college majoring in science with an emphasis in criminal justice, which is a fancy way of saying forensic analyst. Now, I’m sure you know all about college. College students eat what they can afford, which isn’t saying much. What I’m trying to say is that they eat a lot of junk food. Ramen, microwave food, fast food, you know the drill. Pretty much every student in the school had a little bit of chubbiness, and no one was judging anyone for it. But Frank? Oh, everytime he looked in the mirror all he saw was a bag of lard. He never ate in front of his friends so they wouldn’t see him as fat.

One afternoon, he was getting a sandwich from the cafeteria, fully knowing he would hate himself for eating it, when he stopped for a moment to look at the bulletin board where everyone put their ads. He saw someone’s Snapchat username, an ad for a maid service, and other things that weren’t that worth noting. He was about to leave when a bright yellow business card caught his eye.

That’s it! He thought. That’s the solution to my problems!

------

About a week later, when it opened, Frank headed to the other side of town to his destination. He pulled into the parking lot and noted the bright yellow banner outside that read “BOXING.” What was their obsession with bright yellow? He thought.

He got out of his 2003 Toyota Corolla and walked over to the warehouse looking building next to it. A man who was talking with what looked like the coaches walked over to him. He held out his hand. “What’s up?”

“Hey.” Frank said in return, shaking his hand. He noticed that he was shorter than this man. Not short enough for it to be important, but short enough for it to be noticable.

“I’m Gerard. I’m the owner of this place. I’ll also be coaching the adult newcomers, which includes you. I mean, unless you’re secretly ten years old.”

Frank chuckled at that one. “I’m Frank. And I can assure you, I’m nineteen, not ten.”

“So what brings you here?” Gerard said. “You look healthy for a...growing boy of your age.”

“I saw your ad on the bulletin board on campus. Looking to lose a little weight, as I am…” Frank motioned toward his body. “Quite large.”

Gerard raised an eyebrow. “If you think so.”

------

“Green means go. At your own pace, just go.” Gerard was talking to a group of adults of all shapes and sizes about the light buzzer.

“Now, yellow is my favorite. I like to call it ‘all-you’ve-got yellow.’ Go without stopping, fluid motions, as fast as you can.” Some of the group’s faces got nervous looking at the mention of “fast.”

“Red is simple. Red is your break time. Water, conversation, whatever. Do with it what you want. Any questions?”

They all shook their heads.

“Good. Now wrap your hands and get to work.” Frank reached into his duffel bag and grabbed the things that looked like ace bandages. He suddenly went white. He had no idea how to wrap hands. Everyone else looked like they either knew or had glove wraps instead of the bandage looking ones. Was he going to ask Gerard for help? No, he thought. He could figure it out.

He spent the next three minutes and thirty seconds, counted by the light buzzer, trying to wrap his hands. When it went to red, Gerard almost immediately ran over to him. “For pete’s sake, Frank, you could’ve asked for help.” He grabbed Frank’s wrist and there seemed to be a jolt of electricity. They both felt it. They both looked at each other, blushed, and looked down at Frank’s hands.

“Okay. Just so you know, you need to give support to your wrists and knuckles. Never go in between your fingers like you were doing.” Gerard was trying to hide that his face looked like a tomato, but he failed.

Frank looked up at Gerard. He only saw how perfectly his long red hair framed his face. Angelic. That was the only word Frank could use to describe him.

Gerard finally strapped down the second handwrap. “Get to work, Frank.”

Frank was almost done with his second round of shadowboxing when Gerard came up behind him. “After this, get your gloves on and come up into the ring with me.” Frank simply nodded.

Frank got his green boxing gloves on and stepped up into the ring, where Gerard was holding a pair of mitts. Frank had never dealt with those, but he guessed they were for him to hit.

“Okay.” Gerard said. “I don't want you to be powerful yet. That comes later. For now, I want you to be quick, and accurate. You have a small frame, so agility should come easily to you.”

Frank made a face of confusion. Small?

“Okay. Let’s try one.” Frank swiftly punched Gerard’s right mitt with his left hand.

Wow. Frank thought. That felt...good.

“Two.” Frank hit with his right hand this time, and harder.

“Right hook.” There was a snap this time when Frank hit the mitt. The pure euphoria he got from hitting it, he could almost feel the stress leaving his body with every move.

The buzzer turned to yellow and Gerard said, “Six and seven. Six and seven for the last thirty seconds.”

Frank threw fluid, quick body punches for thirty seconds straight. The buzzer turned to red.

Gerard was impressed. He definitely was a lot stronger than he looked.

Notes

hnhgngng i only have 2 weeks of school left so expect more frequent updates after the 17th

Comments

Very intrigued. Poor Gerard haha

cKayE cKayE
6/1/19