Livia Lone

31-THEN

Malcolm was right: even though they were only freshmen, Livia and Sean both made the wrestling team. Sean was good, but Livia was better-undefeated at 101 pounds in the regular season, losing only to a stronger and more experienced senior in the semifinals of the state tournament, and placing third in the state overall. People stopped making fun of her, and somehow even the word “Lahu,” which the bullies had originally used to taunt her, became a kind of trademark, with the Llewellyn fans in the bleachers chanting, “La-hoo! La-hoo!” to cheer Livia on when she took the mat.

Her growing popularity was unsettling. She was still shy. She was still afraid that no matter what she had, it could all be taken away in a sudden, horrible instant. And the secret of what she had been forced to do on the boat on the way to Portland, and what Mr. Lone was still making her do in his own house, made her feel ashamed and apart. She knew no one would understand it. And if anyone ever found out, they would treat her like something diseased and polluted. And the really horrible part was, she knew they would be right. She was polluted. Tainted. And worse, a failure, a fraud, for not having protected Nason, and even more for having incited Skull Face and his men into hurting Nason so badly that her little bird’s mind had just… flown away. The only way she could live with how loathsome she sometimes felt was to wall it all off and focus on school, jiu-jitsu, and wrestling. But if anyone ever learned the truth, that wall would crumble. And she could never, ever let that happen.

Most boys seemed intimidated by the wrestling-by a girl who regularly beat boys on the mat. But some didn’t seem to mind, and began to ask her out on dates. She always told them she was too busy. Sometimes they asked if she was Sean’s girlfriend. His stutter had faded away, like something he had outgrown, and nobody made fun of him anymore. She would tell them no, that wasn’t it, she and Sean were just friends and training partners. Which was true. Although sometimes she would catch Sean looking at her in a way that made her wonder. The rude ones asked if she was “maybe into chicks.” She didn’t think she was. She wasn’t into anyone. What she knew of sex was painful and humiliating and disgusting. She didn’t know why people were so fascinated by it. The only thing she wanted more than for Mr. Lone to stop was to find Nason. She would have been happy to never go near sex for the rest of her life.

She was unbeaten again in the regular season of her sophomore year. There were articles about her in the newspaper, describing her as a “phenomenon.” Reporters interviewed her at practice, always making sure to note how wonderful it was that the Lones had taken her in, and asking if she attributed at least some of her success to Mr. Lone’s hardworking example. She said as little as possible, afraid of causing a problem if she were to say the wrong thing.

Mr. Lone sometimes came to her matches. She wished he wouldn’t. It was disgusting to have him watching her do something she loved so much. And although she had grown increasingly confident that he would never see her as anything but a helpless little girl, she didn’t think it was a good idea for him to watch her beating boys, even if they were just teenagers her own size and not tall, full-grown men like him.

In fact, not only did he seem unconcerned about her wrestling prowess, he seemed to take pleasure in it. And why not? People were eager to attribute her success to him. In one of her classes, they had learned the story of the Greek King Midas, who turned everything he touched to gold. Even though the story was about a curse, not a blessing, she thought that was how Mr. Lone liked to be perceived, as someone who turned everything to gold. His businesses; his money; and now, his wrestling phenomenon, straight-A, adopted Lahu girl. It was galling to have him bask in her reflected glory, but she refused to dwell on it, ignoring him as much as possible when she saw him in the stands. She had gotten good at feeling as little as possible when he did the bathroom thing, and it was easy to do so elsewhere, too.

Livia and Sean were the only Llewellyn wrestlers to make it to the states that year-Livia at 108, Sean at 122. Sean placed fourth. Livia finished second, pinned in the third round of the finals, the loss again to a senior. When Livia walked off the mat, furious at herself and near tears not just for losing, but at the horror of having been pinned, there was a cluster of reporters waiting to talk to her. She took a deep breath to pull herself together.

When the reporters and well-wishers were gone and the next match was underway, she walked to the corner of the gym, where she started stretching to warm down. She had seen Mr. Lone in the stands, but he rarely came over to talk to her at matches, having learned that she would ignore him. Malcolm had driven her and Sean to the tournament, and she saw them approaching now.

She bent at the waist and touched her toes, taking a moment to collect herself. Seeing Malcolm and Sean was making her feel emotional again.

When she was ready, she straightened. They had stopped a few feet away and were watching her respectfully. They didn’t hug her. They knew that, off the mat, she didn’t like to be touched.

“You were amazing,” Sean said.

She didn’t feel amazing. But she couldn’t say that without implicitly putting down Sean-after all, he hadn’t even made it to the finals. So she just said, “So were you.”

“No, you were really amazing.”

He was so nice, and so earnest, she couldn’t help a little smile. “Thanks.”

“Congratulations, girl,” Malcolm said. “Thought we’d give you a minute with your adoring public before we bothered you.”

That made her smile more.

“You need anything?” Sean said.

She realized she was thirsty. “Actually, I’d love a Gatorade.”

“I’ll get one from the concession stand. Dad, you want anything?”

Malcolm shook his head. “I’m good.”

“Okay. Be right back.”

Sean walked off. Malcolm watched him for a moment, then turned back to Livia. “How you feeling?” he said.

Livia shrugged. The way he was looking at her… she knew if she tried to speak, she would cry.

“You pissed at yourself because you lost?”

She nodded and felt her eyes fill up. “He pinned me,” she whispered.

Malcolm squatted so he was looking up at her. “Girl,” he said, and she was surprised by the thickness she heard in his voice. “I could not be prouder of you if you were my own daughter.”

She tried to blink back the tears, but couldn’t. “But I lost.”

“No, you won. Every match of the entire season until that one. And that boy was a senior. Two extra years of experience. And a lot more upper-body strength. Now, the boys aren’t getting any stronger. But your technique keeps getting better. Next year is your year. And the year after that. No one’s going to be able to stop you. And no one’s going to pin you again, that’s for damn sure.”

She wanted to believe him. It made her cry harder.

“I want you to know something,” Malcolm said. “I’m only going to say it this one time, and not in front of Sean.”

She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt and looked at him, confused.

“You’ve been a good friend to my son. Best he’s ever had. And it’s not my place or my purpose to compare the two of you. I love you both.”

Livia had heard him say that to Sean before, but never to her. Even her own parents had never said it to her-it wasn’t the Lahu way. Of course, even if they had said it to her, she would know now it was a lie. But when Malcolm said it… it was confusing. She believed him, but didn’t want to. It made her feel good and upset at the same time. Like his words were pulling hard at something she wanted to let go of, but couldn’t.

“The thing is,” he went on, “Sean is talented. Very talented. And disciplined, too.”

“I know.”

He shook his head. “But not like you. You are one in a million. The kind of athlete most coaches wait their whole lives for, and never actually get.” He looked down for a moment, then back to her. “Sean will probably compete in college. He hasn’t decided yet. If he does, he’ll be good. And I’ll support him every way I can.”

She didn’t understand what he was trying to tell her. “I know,” she said again.

His gaze was intense, almost fierce. “But you could be better than good, Livia. Your talent could take you as far as you want to go. Anywhere. All the way. I don’t know if you know that. But I want you to know it. Maybe you’re not hearing it from anyone else, and that would be a shame. Because sometimes we need to hear it from someone else. So you’re hearing it from me, okay? However far you want to go, your talent is your ticket. And if you don’t believe that, you’re making the worst mistake I can imagine.”

She started crying again. She so wanted to believe him. That, despite everything else, there was something special about her, something worthwhile.

“You believe what I’m telling you?” he said.

She nodded uncertainly.

“Have I ever told you anything that turned out to be untrue?”

She shook her head.

“I want to hear you say it.”

She cleared her throat and looked at him. “I believe you.”

“Good. But there’s something more important than that.”

She looked at him. “What?”

He pointed at her. “You believe in yourself. No matter what. You understand me? You believe in yourself. And there is nothing that is ever going to stop you.”

She wanted to thank him, but her throat had closed up and the words wouldn’t come. All she could do was nod. But it seemed that was enough. Malcolm took one of her hands in both of his and squeezed it. She almost drew back out of habit, but didn’t. It was okay.

“You’re going to be fine, girl. You got people who care about you.”

She saw Sean walking over. She eased her hand away and wiped her face.

“Hey,” Sean said, and the concern she saw in his eyes threatened to bring on another bout of tears.

Sean handed her the Gatorade. She unscrewed the top, put the bottle to her lips, tilted her head up, closed her eyes, and drank. By the time she had chugged half of it, she was in control of herself again. She took a deep breath and said, “Thanks.”

Sean shook his head. “You’re going to win the whole thing next year, Livia. State champion for sure.”

She managed a smile. “You sound like your dad,” she said, and they all laughed.

On the way home, sitting in the back of Malcolm’s car, she wondered whether she could really be as good as Malcolm had said. She didn’t think he was lying. But at the same time… there must be something wrong with her. Something that had made so many bad things happen. To herself, and even more to Nason. She could forget it when she was training, and when she was competing. Sometimes when she was studying. And when she slept, if she wasn’t having bad dreams.

But it never really went away. In the end, it was always there. And she knew it always would be.