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    Triangle Choke
    Triangle Choke
    Triangle Choke
    Ebook94 pages1 hour

    Triangle Choke

    By Patrick Jones

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Hector's father used to be a Golden Gloves champion boxer. Now he's an unemployed alcoholic. Hector is trying to stay focused on winning his first amateur MMA fight, but it's not easy when his dad is MIA, his mom is against his training, and his best friend and girlfriend have betrayed him. Can he find the right moves to win over his opponents inside the cage and out?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOpen Road Integrated Media
    Release dateAug 1, 2013
    ISBN9781467733038
    Triangle Choke
    Author

    Patrick Jones

    Patrick Jones lives in Minneapolis and is the author of many novels including the Support and Defend series. A former librarian, Jones received lifetime achievement awards from the American Library Association and the Catholic Library Association.

    Read more from Patrick Jones

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      Book preview

      Triangle Choke - Patrick Jones

      It’s a human cockfight. I won’t allow you to participate, Hector, Mom yells.

      I just smile. Mom, it’s not like that. Have you even seen a mixed martial arts fight? I know from years of watching MMA that you need good counters. He shoots, you sprawl. He mounts, you guard. Mom yells, I smile and ask polite questions.

      I know what two people fighting in a cage is like. Do you think that makes you a man?

      No, it makes me a fighter. I know how to box and wrestle, but being a mixed martial artist is my goal. Today’s the day I asked my parents to let me attend a new teen MMA program. I knew Mom would object. My hope is Dad will come to my rescue. He can’t let me down this time.

      Hector, you’re only fifteen! she shouts, even though I’m just across the kitchen table from her. She turns toward the living room, where Dad’s on the sofa with a Tecate in his left hand and the remote in his right. Victor, didn’t I tell you that if you taught him to box, he’d develop a love of fighting? Answer me! He responds by turning up the volume of the soccer game on Telemundo and mumbling something in Spanish.

      You need to concentrate on school, on getting your grades up, on getting through your sophomore year, Mom says. It’s another one of her speeches. She’s got about fifteen on her playlist, and she just hit Shuffle.

      Why? So I can go to college in three years? Who is going to pay for that? You know I’m not smart enough to get a scholarship like Angelina or Eva.

      Well, we certainly won’t pay for you to learn how to fight in a cage.

      I’ll pay for it! I shout. I’ll get a job. I’ll clean toilets, whatever it takes for me to—

      That’s enough! Dad shouts over the TV.

      Mom and I glare at each other like two fighters might stare at the ref after a close bout. Except that, in MMA, there are three judges with scorecards. Here there’s just one judge: Dad.

      He mutes the TV and swallows the remaining drops of his first (but certainly not his last) beer of the evening. He walks, head down, into the kitchen, almost like the Golden Gloves champ that he was at my age. When I started training with him, he said boxing would teach me how to defend myself and teach me about life. He also said he’d never let me down. Here’s his chance.

      You’re not cleaning toilets, Dad growls. I’ll talk to Mr. Torrez about you working in the garage on weekends. It’s time you learn a real-world skill anyway.

      Mom stares at Dad and then looks away. Victor, what are you doing?

      You know how my parents squashed my dreams. Dad says as he turns toward Mom. I was a champion. I could’ve gone pro. But they wouldn’t allow it, so I won’t allow this.

      Then it’s on your head if Hector gets hurt! Can you live with that?

      He’s not going to get hurt, Dad says. Eyes focused on me now.

      And how do you know that? Mom asks.

      Dad smiles at me, but Mom counters with a frown. Because he’s going to hurt the other guy first, right, Hector? I smile back at him, but before I can answer, his expression changes, fast. His soft smile turns into a hard stare, his brown eyes sending me a clear message: I came through for you, so don’t let me down.

      Thanks, Dad, I say, but he’s not looking at me anymore. He glances at Mom, who glares back at him. We live in a small, square house, but today, we’re in a triangle that seems like it’s about to break apart. Dad reaches for another beer, Mom stomps away, and I sprint to my room to spread the news that I’m taking the first step to becoming a mixed martial arts champion.

      Even before I post the news, I call Rosie.

      Hector, you won’t let them mess up your pretty face, she says.

      Not going to happen, I reassure her. She asks lots of questions and I’m excited, full of answers. Except for boxing, watching MMA, and hanging with Eddie and the other guys, Rosie’s the only other thing I’m serious about in my life. We had been friends for a long time, almost since first grade, but that changed a few months ago. I made my move, and she didn’t block it.

      You’ll come to all my fights, right?

      Wherever you are, I am. I love you so much, Hector. I blush as my temperature rises.

      I love you too, Rosie, I say, amazed how fun and easy those words are to say.

      I’m in, I text Eddie. He hates talking on the phone.

      Me2, he texts back. Eddie and I agreed that we’d both ask our parents—well, for him, his foster parents—to join the MMA dojo after the school wrestling season ended. Eddie had an okay season wrestling heavyweight on the JV team. I wasn’t much better. I’ve watched so much UFC that I kept trying MMA moves, most of which are illegal in high school wrestling.

      Let’s make a pact, I text. We stick with this and we stick together.

      Like flies on dog crap.

      Despite having a hard life, Eddie makes the best of it by always cracking jokes. He’s the brother I never had, and I know he feels the same. If we weren’t dudes, I’d call us BFFs. One day, Eddie and I will be the kings of MMA.

      Jab, Hector, jab! Jackson’s encouraging me as I bounce hard strikes off the blockers.

      Watch this! I shout as I throw an overhand left, uppercut right, and side kick.

      "I can’t. Your fists and feet are flying

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