Knockout Games Read Online Free PDF

Destiny without even looking up from her phone.
    He seemed confused. “Why you bring a white girl here?”
    Now she looked up. “That’s TKO business and none of yours. Just pretend she ain’t here.”
    C-Jay scowled and went back to his group. Pretty soon they were arguing again, but C-Jay kept an eye out on me.
    â€œWhat’s TKO?” I asked.
    â€œIt’s our little club we started at the Rec Center. We sometimes take boxing lessons there.”
    When she saw me looking puzzled, she added, “TKO. Technical Knock Out. Boom! ” She threw a jab at me and laughed when I flinched. “You should try it some time; you got the size.”
    â€œI don’t fight.”
    She raised an eyebrow. “That’s not how I heard it.” Then I remembered our little bout at school.
    Destiny started going on about the Tokers, how they were always trying to impress the King. I asked her why she called them Tokers. They didn’t seem like potheads to me.
    â€œToker. TKO member. They get high on the hit too, I guess,” she joked, raising her fist. “And in between, they sit around bored with the munchies.”
    Still, I had no idea why a bunch of middle schoolers were scoping out people walking down the street on a Friday afternoon. I didn’t see any water balloons or anything. I remember wondering what were they going to do—jump out and scare them?
    When they zeroed in on someone, I quickly learned. Through my viewfinder, I followed their pointed fingers to their target. He was some kitchen worker at the pizza place across the street taking a smoking break. He was older, looked like he’d been doing that job for a long time. When he lit his cigarette, I noticed flour on his hands and face, probably from rolling pizza dough.
    I panned back and the boys were all huddled together. Finally, C-Jay stood up and began walking across the road. He had this kind of looping walk, and he still had his baby fat which made him look like a giant baby. I thought he was going to steal that guy’s wallet or something. I zoomed in closer. Then suddenly he was running full speed at the guy and—
    I didn’t see it coming. I almost dropped the camera when he raised his fist. “He’s gonna hit that guy . . .” I thought.
    Destiny grabbed my camera and brought it back to my eye.
    â€œYou’re gonna miss the best part—”
    I zoomed in right as C-Jay’s fist sailed through the air and I could hear the smack! from here. A puff of flour lingered in the air and the guy just dropped like a mannequin that fell to pieces. When I heard that clunk of his head bouncing off the sidewalk, I almost puked.
    â€œKnockout!” the boys yelled as they raced across the street. Destiny pushed me along right beside them, and I went on autopilot as I captured them doing their end zone dance and high-fiving each other. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw some passersby quickly move away like nothing happened.
    I felt dizzy and out of focus, like I’d been hit.
    â€œYo, white girl,” one of ‘em said. I guess that’d be me. “Take our picture for the Knockout King!” They posed by the body like it was some game trophy and I recorded them. My stomach tightened; I wanted to leave. Finally, satisfied they’d completed their mission, the boys walked off, leaving me staring at a smoking cigarette butt on the ground next to my feet.
    â€œGet a close-up,” Destiny whispered in my ear and next thing I knew, the camera pushed in on the man’s face. He was still breathing. Barely.
    There was something strange about looking at him so close up. It was like when you pass a car wreck and you don’t want to stare, but you can’t turn away either. You’re caught staring even if you don’t want to. And I guess I was staring for too long because I didn’t notice Destiny tugging on my arm.
    â€œHey, Fish, you got your shot, now