Chapter 28

373 26 7
                                    

The gym was a flurry of motion and noise when we walked back in. Piers took one look around and patted us both on the back,

"This is where I leave you, I'll be in the stands cheering you on, good luck!"

And then he melted into the crowd, leaving Dudley and I standing along the edge of the gym. We shared a glance and started pushing our way through ot our teams little corner. Thankfully Dudley was a big dude, he had a way easier time clearing a path for both of us than I would have on my own. As we approached, Mr. Vilgar saw us and beamed,

"Ahh, there are my two stars of the show! Ready to make Smelting's proud?"

I gave myself a little shake, took a deep breathe and nodded. The hardest part of the day was over, now I just had to wrestle, which is something I had trained for. Mr. Vilgar must have sensed my determination because his smile took on a dangerous edge.

"Let's go show them what we're made of."

----\/\/\/\/\/----

Five hours and six matches later, I was sore, tired and ecstatic. I had won every single one of my matches, as had Dudley. Mr. Vilgar couldn't contain his pride as we stood together on the award podium and both received gold for our respective weight classes.

I knew I would be covered in bruises tomorrow, but it was worth it. All of my training had paid off! I felt as though I had spent most of my matches in a blur of sweat, driven on muscle memory and instinct alone, like I was born to fight. In between my matches, I would make sure to stretch, drink water and rest, and right before each match I would splash a bit of water on my face to get rid of my nerves. I was so absorbed in my own performance that I wasn't keeping track of Dudley's matches, so when finals came and I saw he had advanced as well, I was overjoyed. We had caught each others eye across the gym and smiled. I even gave him a cheesy thumbs up, which made him rolls his eyes.

When Dudley won his final match, I looked up to the stands to see Piers and the Dursleys cheering wildly, hyped that Dudley had done so well. After my match, I was slightly disoriented, but was pleased to see that they were cheering for me as well, not quite as enthusiastically, but proudly none-the-less.

When Big-D and I were on the podium receiving our medals, thats when our little group cheered loudest of all. I even thought I heard Mr. Dursley shout, "THAT'S MY BOY!"

After award were finished and we had changed out of our wrestling uniforms, Mr. Vilgar volunteered Smelting's team to help clean up the gym. That's fine and all, but I was starting to get a little hungry. I had had a few snacks between rounds to keep myself energized, but now that the excitement was over, I noticed just how hungry I was. Dudley probably felt the same way, based on the annoyed look on his face. I leaned over and whispered,

"The faster we clean up the sooner we get food,"

That seemed to spur him to action, and soon enough the whole team was working together to tidy up the gym. We folded up mats, cleaned up trash, put seats away, and shook the hands of the refs and event organizers. They thanked us for attending, and congratulated Smelting's for our stellar performance. The gym was tidied up in no time, and after a small team huddle were lots of pats on the back were tossed around and Mr. Vilgar congratulated us all, we were finally dismissed.

One good thing about staying back to clean, was that the rest of the attendees of the meet had time to clear out, so upon leaving the gymnasium we were not met with a crazy crowd, but instead were able to beeline straight over to where the Dursleys were standing with Piers. Mrs. Dursley enveloped her son in a hug, and Piers caught me in one as well, saying,

"Awesome performance Perc! You killed it, that was so impressive."

In my peripheral, I saw Mr. Dursley nodding along ot Piers words, and couldn't help but feel a tingle of satisfaction that I had impressed Mr. Dursley. For some reason, my mind went back to all those weeks ago when Mr. Brunner had come to the orphanage and told me stories about my father. I recalled how it had felt to have a stranger tell me that my father would be proud of me, and compared it the the swell of emotions from seeing Mr. Dursley acknowledge I had done well. Then I stopped myself from making any more observations or connections, as this felt like a very slippery slope that I did not want to risk going down.

The Dursley's adopted sonWhere stories live. Discover now