Arm-wrestling the Amazon

Bonnie almost had her.

Sandra McCoy, the six-foot-one black-haired Amazon, who Bonnie had often thought bore a striking resemblance to a grease-stained version of Wonder Woman in dirty overalls, grunted and clenched her fist. Bonnie set her elbow against the wood of the grimy table, and pushed back.

The stakes were high, but Bonnie knew she could win. She'd taken down the whole volleyball team. She'd beaten Sheriff Reyes. She'd even knocked out Hank, the football player, in front of all the cheerleaders, and made him admit he was weaker than a girl. All she had to do was defeat Sandra McCoy, and she'd be the undisputed arm-wrestling champion of Pinkwhistle.

Sandra had put up a real fight, but Bonnie could feel the Amazon slipping. Both their hands were slick with sweat. The yard behind the auto shop was full of students, all watching and cheering as the tough-minded pair of tomboys struggled for dominance. It was a mental game as much as a physical one. Bonnie smiled, staring directly into her opponent's eyes, seeing the tiniest trace of fear flickering across Sandra's face.

That was all she needed. She knew for a fact she was going to win.

Bonnie pushed harder, feeling Sandra give way, one hard-fought inch and a time. Forcing her back, then back a little further. Almost there...

FZZZP.

And Bonnie's hand slapped back down onto the table, while Sandra beamed with triumph. "Too easy," she said.

"But... wait, what just..."

"Are you gonna cry?" Sandra leaned back in her chair, folding her hands behind her head. "I knew you weren't that strong. Too bad for you, loser. You know what happens now, right?"

Bonnie blinked. "What happens now?"

"Don't pretend you don't remember our little bet."

"Oh. That. Do I really have to..."

"Yep."