Kit nodded. “Yep, if you’d actually kicked hell out of him, it probably would’ve. But you didn’t.”
”Look, I don’t want to break your friend’s face!”
Malcolm chuckled. “I appreciate your concern, Miss Margo.” He let her up, and she rubbed her wrists, then eased a strained muscle in her thigh.
Kit said, “Take five.”
He went back to the equipment room and found sparring helmets, gloves, and padded shoes, then returned to find Mango glowering silently at Malcolm. “Okay, this should be pretty much like what you used in karate competitions.”
She eyed the equipment dubiously.
Oh, great. “Let me guess? You never did any full contact competitions?”
”Well, no,” she admitted. “We always pulled the punches short and made sure the kicks didn’t connect. Our high school didn’t have money for this kind of stuff.”
Kit thought dark thoughts at any school administration that would allow kids to risk injury in a “sport” that was designed to cripple and kill, then showed her how the padded helmet worked. Similar to the leather helmets boxers wore, it was made of soft plastic, with a big pad across the forehead and down the sides of the face, straps under the jaw; and a pad that extended around the sides of the head a bit. Malcolm strapped on his own helmet, then slipped into shoes and gloves while Margo struggled with hers.
When she was ready, she said uncertainly, “I still don’t want to cripple him or anything.”
Kit nodded. “Just make him go oof and I’ll be happy”
”Okay.”
Once again, Malcolm charged in, giving her almost no time to react. Margo executed a side check kick and hit him right across the pelvis. He said “oof!” and stopped abruptly. As he folded over, Margo hit him just above his right ear with her left fist. Another sharp “oof!” accompanied the punch. Margo struck with her right fist across the back of the skull on his way down. A third ludicrous “oof!” tore loose. When his face hit the mat, a final, muffled oof …”prompted grins all across the gym.