And the big one, beside it—slowly, awkwardly, like someone who had never done it before and wasn't sure if he was doing it right—raised his hand too.
Three fingers.
"—hear me? Kessler. Kessler! What's your choice?"
Dani looked at her coach.
"Bottom," she said.
"No. Absolutely not. Neutral."
"Bottom, Coach."
Ortega opened her mouth. Then she looked at Dani's face, really looked at it, and something in her own face changed, and she closed her mouth and let go of Dani's shoulders and sat back in her chair.
"Then you get out," Ortega said. "You get out like your mother taught you."
* * *
Up in the last row, Tom watched his daughter walk to the center of the mat and point down.
"What's she doing?" he said. "What does that mean?"
"She picked bottom." Rosie's three fingers were still up. Her arm was shaking with the effort of holding it high. "She's going to show Mama."
Down on the gold mat, Dani got on her hands and knees in the center circle. Castellanos came around behind her and knelt and wrapped one long arm around Dani's waist and put the other hand on her elbow. The referee looked at them both. The arena had gone strangely quiet, the hush of nine thousand people leaning forward.
The whistle.
Castellanos broke her down flat in two seconds. Tom saw Dani's chest hit the mat, saw Castellanos slide her arm in and start to crank. A minute fifty. A minute forty-five. Dani got to her hands. Got flattened. Got to her hands. Castellanos wrapped her up and rolled her, hard, and for one terrible moment Tom saw his daughter's shoulders tilting toward the mat, saw the referee drop to his belly with his arm out, counting, and the green-and-white side of the arena was screaming, and Rosie was screaming, and Tom was on his feet.
"Get off your back," he said. "Get off it, get off it, honey, come on—"
The referee's arm swung. Swung. Dani bridged up onto the top of her head, her whole body arched like a bow, and twisted, and was on her belly again. The referee held up two fingers. Nearfall. Six to four.
A minute ten.
Castellanos was on her like a blanket. Tom watched Dani's head come up. Watched her look—he was sure of it, even from forty rows up, even through the lights, he was sure she was looking right at them—and he lifted his arm higher, as high as it would go, three fingers, his hand shaking.
Three seconds. And then three more.
Dani moved.
He didn't understand what she did. Something called a switch. Dani's hand came across and hooked over Castellanos's arm, and Dani sat out and turned, and leaned back into the bigger girl, and somehow the leverage changed, the whole geometry of the two bodies changed, and Castellanos was underneath and Dani was behind her and on top, and the referee was holding up two fingers. Reversal.