When I Kill You by Michelle Wan Page A

opponent right out of the mud. It was a real crowd pleaser and usually ended the match. She had me jammed up against the foam wall of the ring now, and the crowd was chanting, “Go! Go! Go!”
    I sensed her tensing for the big push. I let her think she had me. Just as she drove in for the final ram, I managed to twist aside. It was enough to skew her balance. I followed up like lightning, using her momentum to pitch her on her back. Mud flew. The crowd loved it. Then I was all over her in a full body press. She flailed around to shake me, bridging and bucking. I stuck to her like wet clay, trying to force the pin. But she was strong and her shoulders wouldn’t cooperate. The crowd was going nuts. Then the bell clanged to end the round.
    â€œYou’re crap, Lava,” Wanda sneered as we separated.
    When the whistle went for Round Two, I launched myself at her, but Wanda was prepared for me. We slapped skin, shoved head-to-head. Suddenly she ducked and grabbed me around the middle. We rolled. I slithered loose. We came at each other again, locking arms. This time I got her in a leg clamp and held her for a few seconds before she wriggled free. Now it was her turn to toss me around. I tried to stabilize, but my knee slid out from under me. Next thing I knew I was facedown in the mud. She really ground me in it.
    â€œEat dirt,” she rasped in my left ear. I hooked my leg around hers, lost the hold, hooked again. Over the shouting I heard Jimmy yelling something at me. I gave a tremendous buck, managed to get my arms and knees under me. She stayed on top of me, but at least I was up for air. My eyes were so caked with mud I could barely see. I was thankful when the bell rang.
    We were both breathing hard as we went into Round Three. We slammed together, sort of falling onto each other. More grappling, shoving, circling. Wanda got me in a wristlock, did a quick shift, got behind me and threw a half nelson. She had me for a moment before I wriggled free. We separated and came together again. But I was running out of gas. She sensed it and used it to her advantage to throw me sideways and slam me on my back. Along the way she drove her knee into my stomach—hard. It knocked the wind out of me, and suddenly she was straddling me, heavy as a landslide, going for the pin. I struggled to bridge.
    She growled, this time in my right ear, “You’re dead meat, Lava,” and gave me a quick, sharp head butt that had me blinking stars. Al, who was refereeing, pretended not to see. But I could hear Jimmy in my corner yelling, “Foul!”
    The butt stunned me, and that was all Wild Woman Wanda needed. She threw her full weight on me in a press. Al was with us in the ring, bent double, hand out, waiting to signal the pin. I tried to kick free but was too exhausted. My shoulders sagged. Al’s hand lowered for the count. One! Two! Three! I was down for the fall.

CHAPTER TWO
    I had mud in my eyes. And in my hair and mouth and up my nose. That’s the worst of mud wrestling. When you lose, you lose dirty. I staggered around the building to the hose-down pad. The plumbing at Al’s is old, and he doesn’t want mud clogging up his drains. So the “talent,” as he calls us girls, has to hose off outside before we hit the showers. Shower, I should say, because there was only one, and we had to queue for it. Meantime the crowd was going crazy for Wild Woman Wanda. I could see her as I turned the water on. She was pumping her fists over her head and making biceps, posing left and right.
    Jimmy appeared as I was rinsing out my mouth.
    â€œTough break, Lava.” He shook his head. Jimmy was a little guy, skinny as a wire, twice my age, twice as wise and a good friend.
    â€œShe butted me!”
    â€œI saw.”
    â€œI—want—a rematch,” I told him between gargles.
    â€œGive it a rest. This is the second time you’ve lost to Wanda. You’re not ready, kid. You