Walking Disaster

continued until another scandal rocked the campus.
    On top of the unrest I already felt about my and Abby’s relationship, Shepley was growing increasingly irritable about the last fight of the year. I wasn’t far behind. We both
depended on the winnings from that fight to fund our living expenses for the summer, not to mention part of the fall. Since I’d decided the last fight of the year was also my last fight for
good, we would need it.
    Spring break inched closer, but still no word from Adam. Shepley had finally heard through multiple lines of communication that Adam was lying low after the arrests following the most recent
fight.
    On the Friday before break, the campus mood felt lighter, even with the fresh batch of snow that had been dumped onto the state overnight. On our way to the cafeteria for lunch, Abby and I had
barely escaped a public snowball fight; America, not so much.
    We all chatted and laughed, waiting in line for trays of God-knows-what, and then sat at our regular seats. Shepley comforted America while I amused Brazil with the story of how Abby hustled my
brothers on poker night. My phone buzzed, but it didn’t register until Abby pointed it out.
    “Trav?” she said.
    I turned, tuning everything out the second she said my name.
    “You might want to get that.”
    I looked down at the cell phone and sighed. “Or not.” Part of me needed that last fight, but part of me knew it would be time spent away from Abby. After she was attacked at the last
one, there was no way I could concentrate if she came to this one without protection—and I couldn’t concentrate fully if she wasn’t there, either. The last fight of the year was
always the biggest, and I couldn’t afford to have my head somewhere else.
    “It could be important,” Abby said.
    I held the phone to my ear. “What’s up, Adam?”
    “Mad Dog! You’re gonna love this. It’s done. I got John fucking Savage! He’s planning to go pro next year! Chance of a goddamn lifetime, my friend! Five figures.
You’ll be set for a while.”
    “This is my last fight, Adam.”
    The other end of the line was quiet. I could imagine his jaw working under the skin. More than once he’d accused Abby of threatening his cash flow, and I was sure he would blame her for my
decision.
    “Are you bringing her?”
    “I’m not sure yet.”
    “You should probably leave her at home, Travis. If this really is your last fight, I need you all in.”
    “I won’t go without her, and Shep’s leaving town.”
    “No fucking around this time. I mean it.”
    “I know. I heard you.”
    Adam sighed. “If you really won’t consider leaving her at home, maybe you could call Trent. That would probably set your mind at ease, and then you could concentrate.”
    “Hmmm . . . that’s not a bad idea, actually,” I said.
    “Think about it. Let me know,” Adam said, hanging up the phone.
    Abby stared at me expectantly.
    “It’s enough to pay rent for the next eight months. Adam got John Savage. He’s trying to go pro.”
    “I haven’t seen him fight, have you?” Shepley asked, leaning forward.
    “Just once in Springfield. He’s good.”
    “Not good enough,” Abby said. I leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I can stay home, Trav.”
    “No,” I said, shaking my head.
    “I don’t want you to get hit like you did last time because you’re worried about me.”
    “No, Pidge.”
    “I’ll wait up for you.” She smiled, but it was obviously forced, making me even more determined.
    “I’m going to ask Trent to come. He’s the only one I’d trust so I can concentrate on the fight.”
    “Thanks a lot, asshole,” Shepley grumbled.
    “Hey, you had your chance,” I said, only half teasing.
    Shepley’s mouth pulled to the side. He could pout all day long, but he dropped the ball at Hellerton, letting Abby get away from him like that. If he’d been paying attention, it
would have never happened, and we all knew it.
    America and Abby swore that it was a fluke accident, but I didn’t hesitate to tell him otherwise. He was watching the fight instead of Abby, and if Ethan had finished what he started, I
would be in jail for murder. Shepley apologized to Abby for weeks, but then I took him aside and told him to knock it off. None of us liked reliving it every time his guilt got the best of him.
    “Shepley, it wasn’t your fault. You pulled him off of me, remember?” Abby said, reaching around America to pat his arm. She turned to me.