HE PROVED IT

Alonso's heart slammed against his ribs as the glint of the knife cut through the dim alley light.

"What the fuck!" he hissed, instinctively stepping back as the boy with the blade advanced.

Javi's sneer twisted into something darker. "Still think you're tough, huh? Let's see how tough you are now."

Alonso's mind raced, every nerve in his body screaming at him to run—but he didn't. He couldn't. Not after everything.

Not after the bruises, the whispers, and the looks he got every day.

He tightened his fists, forcing himself to stay calm. If he panicked, he was done.

The knife-wielding boy lunged, aiming low. Alonso twisted his body just in time, the blade grazing his jacket instead of his skin. Pain flared in his ribs from the sudden movement, but he didn't stop.

He couldn't afford to.

Javi circled from the side, his fists clenched. The third boy hung back, watching for an opening.

Alonso's breaths came sharp and fast. He had no chance if they trapped him against the wall. He needed to move. Fast.

The boy with the knife came again, slashing toward his chest.

Alonso sidestepped, grabbing the boy's wrist with both hands. With a sharp twist, he wrenched the knife away, the cold metal biting into his palm.

"Ah!" the boy yelped, stumbling back.

Alonso didn't hesitate.

He flipped the knife in his grip, slamming the handle into the boy's jaw. The crack of impact echoed through the alley, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"You little—" Javi charged.

Alonso ducked beneath his punch, driving his elbow into Javi's stomach. The older boy grunted, staggering back.

The third boy swore and lunged, but Alonso swung the knife handle toward his face, catching him just below the eye.

He cried out, clutching his face as he reeled back.

Blood roared in Alonso's ears as he turned back to Javi.

"Is this what you wanted?" he demanded, his voice low and furious.

Javi's face twisted with rage—and something else. Fear.

"You're gonna regret this," he spat, backing away. "You think you've won? You haven't."

Alonso held his ground as they turned and bolted, their footsteps echoing into the night.

Only when the alley was empty did he allow himself to breathe. His hands trembled around the knife as he bent to toss it into a nearby dumpster. His ribs throbbed with pain, but beneath it all, there was something else.

Relief.

They hadn't broken him.

He wasn't the same scared kid anymore.

As he walked home, his thoughts drifted back to Miguel's words.

"You coming to tryouts next month?"

Maybe it was time to stop hiding. Maybe it was time to fight for something that mattered.

The weeks leading up to the football tryouts flew by.

The tension in school hadn't disappeared. Javi's crew kept their distance, but Alonso could still feel their eyes on him. He knew it wasn't over—but for now, they weren't his problem.

Football was.

By the time the day of the tryouts arrived, the air buzzed with anticipation. Everyone wanted to see who would make the cut. And more importantly, everyone wanted to see if the rumors about Alonso were true.

He stood at the edge of the field, stretching out his legs, willing his nerves to settle. The bruises had faded, but the fire inside him burned brighter than ever.

"You ready?" Miguel's voice cut through his thoughts.

Alonso looked up to find the team captain watching him with that same amused glint in his eyes.

"I've been ready," Alonso said quietly.

Miguel's smile widened. "Good. Don't choke."

The coach blew the whistle, and the tryouts began.

The first drill was simple—speed and control. Alonso lined up with the others, his heart thudding in his chest as he waited his turn.

When the whistle blew again, he exploded forward. His feet moved without thought, muscle memory guiding every step.

The ball felt like an extension of himself, rolling smoothly beneath his touch.

He weaved through the cones faster than anyone else.

When he finished, there was a brief silence before the whispers started.

"Did you see that?"

"He's fast."

Miguel caught his eye from across the field, his expression unreadable.

But Alonso didn't care. He wasn't here to impress Miguel.

He was here to prove something—to himself.

The drills grew harder, but Alonso never slowed. Every pass, every shot, every sprint—he gave everything he had.

Sweat poured down his back, and his lungs burned, but he didn't stop.

By the time the final whistle blew, his legs felt like lead.

But he stood tall, head high.

Miguel clapped him on the shoulder as he passed. "Not bad, new kid."

Alonso just nodded, too exhausted to respond.

The next morning, the team list was posted outside the gym.

A crowd gathered around it, students pushing and shoving to get a look. Alonso hung back, hands stuffed in his pockets, until the crowd thinned enough for him to step forward.

His eyes scanned the list, heart hammering.

And there it was.

Alonso Morales – Forward.

A breath he hadn't realized he was holding escaped his chest.

"Told you," a familiar voice said behind him.

He turned to find Valeria leaning against the wall, that same unreadable smile on her face.

"You didn't think I could do it?" he asked.

She tilted her head. "I figured you had a fifty-fifty shot."

He laughed quietly, shaking his head. "Thanks for the confidence."

"Hey, you proved me wrong." Her eyes gleamed with something he couldn't quite place.

"Don't screw it up."

As she walked away, Alonso felt that familiar flutter in his stomach—but this time, he didn't push it down.

He had fought to be here. And he wasn't about to let anyone take it away.