Benny wrapped his hands at the gym when a girl in a purple headband marched over and tapped his shoulder. She held up two fingers. "Upstairs. My room. Now," she said, already turning toward the stairs. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as Benny's sneakers squeaked behind her.
She kicked open the door to a room full of stacked mats and a dented punching bag. She bounced on her toes and raised her fists. Benny mirrored her stance, the rubber floor warm under his soles. The girl's grin said she already knew something he didn't.
Benny threw a jab, the girl ducked and weaved, and he tapped her shoulder lightly. She stumbled backward into a pile of folded towels, then sprang back up instantly, dusting them off. She charged forward with both fists flying.
She shoved Benny hard between the shoulder blades. He stumbled backward until his sneakers hit the wall. Before he could turn around, she yanked his head down, pulled off her purple headband, and pressed it right against his face.
Benny's eyes watered and his nose scrunches up so hard his whole face wrinkled. But then a laugh bubbled out of him. The girl peeled the headband away and howled, kicking the air with her feet.
They collapsed onto the mats side by side, still giggling. The girl wiped her eyes and pointed at Benny's crooked headband. He tipped it back onto his head at a goofy angle.
She stuck out her fist for a post-match high-five. Benny bumped it gently with his own. They both grinned — two friends who had just discovered something wonderful: that play fights make the best kind of fun.
The purple headband sat perfectly on Benny's head now, a trophy from their little war. Outside, the gym lights buzzed on, and somewhere downstairs, the morning class began to arrive.