The door bashed against the wall as Seth exited the locker room, his right hand gripping the handles of his duffel as he walked through the throng of martial artists on the floor. Each different group gathered around a mat rolled out on the floor, two judges and one ring judge at each. Most of the judges were either respected seniors at local gyms or higher-ranking black belts.

The uniforms were varied, ranging from the traditional Japanese gi to Korean dobok. Some fighters from kickboxing gyms only wore shorts and rash guards. CFA students could compete in such attire if they chose, but Seth liked his gi. He'd had it for years now, the durable double-stitched cotton having yet to break down on him. He doubted it would last too much longer though, though. Seth set his duffel down outside of the black belt ring. There were no competitors currently, as there was no age bracket below 16 in this belt division.

Seth did a quick count of the guys gathered around the ring. All told, there were about twenty there, including Jayson and his friends. There were no-shows in every division. It was just a matter of course. Seth sank down into the splits beside his duffel and eyed everyone. Strong showing from Grand Island. One kid from South City Sandou already. The frog-buttoned Chinese-style uniform annoyed Seth, as did the sashes they wore rather than the cloth black belts almost every other martial artist had.

Seth leaned over and grabbed his left foot, sinking his head almost to his knee and feeling a good stretch in his hamstring and groin. It was a bad habit of Seth's to not warm up, but not this year. He'd trained too hard over the last twelve months to be at anything less than the top of his game. Seth switched over to his right side.

Seth sensed Ms. Tull approaching by the looks on the other kids’ faces around the ring. She was less than a year shy of forty but was in better shape than most twenty-somethings. The fact that most of the instructors were convinced she wouldn't begin the aging process until she neared seventy only worsened the stares that followed her wherever she went.

Seth looked up from his stretch at his senior instructor. "Hello, ma'am."

She crouched down beside Seth. "Today's the day."

Seth nodded.

"I saw you burst out of the locker room. Don't let him inside your head. You're better than that. You've trained hard. You're taking home the gold this year."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Don't 'yes, ma'am', me, Seth. I gave you your black belt, I know what you're capable of. Today has been coming a long time. Seven years, in fact. Remember when you first fought in this gym?" She looked around the gymnasium and raised an eyebrow as she saw about two dozen black belts look hurriedly away from her. "Remember when you and Jayson first crossed paths inside a ring? I overheard that conversation, what did he say to you?"

"This fight doesn't matter, the trophy goes to Central anyway."

"Then what did he do?"

Seth looked down a little. "He kicked my ass six ways to Sunday."

"Seth, there is a reason you have your instructor tab and he doesn't. There's a reason we kicked him out of CFA and you stayed. Look back up at me!"

Seth met her intense gaze.

"Now you go in that ring..." She leaned in close so no one else could hear their conversation. "And kick his fucking ass." She slapped Seth on the back. "Now go get gold... or else there's two hundred pushups waiting for you on Monday." She grinned.

"I'm not doing those pushups," he said.

She shrugged. "You might anyway." Ms. Tull stood up and walked off to another ring.

Seth watched as Jayson and Vinnie walked up to the ring. Both had opted to wear shorts and rash guards rather than their uniforms. They greeted their other friend across the ring. It took less than thirty seconds for them to be pointing Seth's way. Seth met their gazes with a hostile glare. As far as he was concerned, he was here to put those three in the dirt. Jayson had a reputation of not stopping until the judges called it, even if he'd already beaten someone into unconsciousness or secured a submission.

The side pocket of Seth's duffel vibrated. Seth hesitated, then unzipped it and pulled his phone out.

Caller unknown.

Some phone with a local area code he didn't recognize. Seth scratched his head and hit the end button to silence it. His hand hadn't even made it to his duffel when it vibrated with a text message.

Madeline is lying to you.

Seth's stomach sank through the floorboards and rebounded into his throat. He stared as more text messages followed.

She's cheating on you.

I'm watching her right now.

Seth's world narrowed in on him. For the moment he was completely unaware of the black belts from South City, or anyone else for that matter. He smashed out a response on the keyboard.

Who the hell are you?

About a minute passed.

Doesn't matter. I'm at auditions. So is she, and I just saw her get a tongue shoved down her throat in the hallway.

Seth's grip almost snapped the case on his phone before he managed a reply. Give me fucking evidence or I'm ignoring you.

Call me.

I'm blocking your number.

Don't be blind, Seth.

Seth blocked the number and set the phone on the ground between his legs. He stared at it for a good moment, his mental state totally wrecked, and judging by the clock, the division was starting in five minutes. Seth took a shaky breath and snatched his earbuds out of his bag, plugging them in and pulling up Spotify and pulling up his list labeled 'Music to Kick Ass To'.

A familiar beat and Marshall Mathers voice blasted into his eardrums as Seth stared at the floor and began the process of calming his nerves.