What a word, ay? What a word, because you can’t always mean it when you say it. Everything’s gonna be okay. Yeah, whatever, because it’s not. Everything hinges on you yourself, which in this case, is me.

‘Okay,’ I say again, feeling the irony of it, and the bell rings and this is it.

Is it? I ask myself. Is this it? Really?

The answer to my question comes not from me, but from Cagey Carl, who has made his intentions excessively clear. He sprints over to me and throws out his left hand. I duck it, swing around and get out of the corner.

He laughs as he chases me.

All round.

He comes at me, I duck.

He swings and misses and tells me I’m scared.

Towards the end of the round, his left glove finds its way through, echoing on to my jaw. Then his right finds me, and another one. Then the bell.

The round is over and I haven’t thrown a single punch.

Rube tells me.

He says, ‘Just a hint — you can’t win a fight without throwing any punches.’

‘I know.’

‘Well?’

‘Well what?’

‘Well start throwin’ a few.’

‘All right.’ But personally, I’m just glad I survived the first round without being knocked down. I’m ecstatic that I’m still upright.

Second round. Still no punches, but this time, late, I hit the canvas and the crowd roars. Cagey Carl stands over me and says, ‘Hey boy! Hey boy!’ That’s all he says as I struggle to my knees and stand. Soon after, the bell rings. Everyone knows I’m scared.

This time Rube abuses me.

‘If y’ gonna carry on like this there’s no point bein’ here! Remember what we said that morning? This is our chance. Our only chance, and you’re gonna blow it because you’re scared of a little pain!’ His face snarls at me. He barks. ‘If I was fightin’ this guy I’d have dropped ‘im in the first round and we both know it. It takes me twenty minutes to beat you, so get interested an’ pull y’ finger out, or go home!’

Yet still, I throw no punches.

Boos emerge from the crowd. No one likes a coward.

Round three and four, no punches.

Finally, the last round, the fifth.

What happens?

I walk out, my hammering heart smashing through my ribs. I duck and swerve and Cagey Carl lands a few more good punches. He keeps telling me to stop running, but I don’t. I keep running, and I survive my first fight. I lose it, on account of throwing no punches, and the crowd wants to lynch me. On my way out of the ring, they yell in my face, spit at me, and one guy even gives me a nice crack in the ribs. I deserve it.

Back in the room, the other fellas only shake their heads.