You Must Remember This

Chapter 22 - Why we fight

Brooklyn, June 1, 1941 - Pentecost

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 13th annual Pentecost boxing match! Have we got some headliners for you today! We'll start with a man who needs no introduction; one of our very own Brooklyn boys! Please give it up for James 'Buckyyyyyyyy' Barnes!"

Bucky's body moved on its own, so accustomed to the routine. He barely heard the cheers and clapping, barely saw the smiling faces around him. When he got to the ring, Bucky climbed in, feeling the thick rope in his hand. Why did it feel like a thousand pounds?

"And now, coming all the way from Harlem, a man who has won no less than five matches by single knock-out in one round; Mikey 'The Boulder' O'Neeeeaaaal!"

The Irish cries drowned out the booing. It got even worse when O'Neal finally made his appearance. Bucky let his eyes wander over his opponent as the man stepped into the ring with him. The ginger (of course) was a full two heads taller than he was and sported a neatly trimmed beard. His shorts, shoes, and gloves looked brand new. Clearly, he had a very wealthy sponsor.
By the bruises on his muscled torso and the one cut above his left eye that hadn't quite healed yet, Bucky gathered O'Neal was getting thrown into one match after another to get to the quota Miss Donnelly spoke about.

Bucky knelt down to his father, who acted as his coach, and Lucas, his father's assistant, hurried to them as well. But as soon as he squatted, his attention was drawn to the person sitting right behind them as her siren voice reached him again. Evelyn's hair was up in a tight bun, held together with a fine blue ribbon. The sun made it shine like a halo. She'd taken off her jacket and showed a dark blue blouse and cream-colored pencil skirt with matching pumps.
Their eyes met as Evelyn looked up from her conversation with Rebecca. She seemed to stiffen, but Bucky then saw her mouth curl up into a little smile. She averted her gaze again, cheeks slightly pinker than they usually were. Bucky's heart thumped. Did he make her blush like that?

"Bucky! Pay attention to Lucas, dammit!"

A snapping voice made Bucky jerk his head down. His father's scolding glare instantly made him feel like he was 10 years old again.

"Sorry, pops," said Bucky hastily. "What were you saying, Lucas?"

"That I looked into O'Neal and talked to Declan Gallagher when he got here."

"Gallagher... Ain't he a reporter for the Times or something?"

"Yeah, and he's been following the top boxers around for some time now. It's bad, Bucky. O'Neal is brutal. He knocked a guy into a coma for three days, and his last opponent shot himself this morning because he didn't wanna burden his family with his care. There was barely anything decent of him left after O'Neal was done with him. It's impossible to beat him, but from what I gather, there was one opponent in O'Neal's early matches who made him sweat and got him to draw. He kept moving and tired him out. That's what you gotta do. You're smaller, so you'll be more agile. Use that. And stay the hell out of the corners. That's how he gets you."

"Don't get cornered and keep him dancing, got it."

"Son, take this seriously, please," said his father.

"I am, pops. I swear," assured Bucky.

He got a grunt in reply.

"I'll keep the towel at hand, just in case this gets out of hand."

"Don't you dare!" Bucky raised his voice to his father. "I've never thrown in the towel, and I'm not about to start now. This guy is a bully, and I don't walk away from bullies. I face them. You taught me that."

"Bucky..."

"Pops, I mean it. Promise me you won't throw in the towel."

Bucky met his father's gaze. It was plain as day he was reluctant to agree, but he eventually nodded his consent.