Lunch in the quad was usually the time Haley solidified her status. But today, her table was less of a royal court and more of an interrogation chamber. Her friends—Beth, Skylar, and a few others from the cheer squad—were ignoring their salads, their eyes fixed on the center table where I was currently surrounded by a group of intrigued seniors.
"Haley, seriously," Beth whispered, leaning in so close her nose almost touched Haley's shoulder. "Who is he? You said he was a cousin, but like... the 'related-related' kind or the 'hot-neighbor-who-grew-up-with-you' kind?"
"He's my step-great-grandfather's step-son," Haley said, her voice dripping with irritation. She stabbed a piece of lettuce. "It's complicated. And he's fifteen. He's practically a child."
"He doesn't look like a child," Skylar noted, watching me laugh at a joke. "He looks like he was sculpted by an Italian master. Does he have a girlfriend? Does he have a phone? Why haven't you introduced us?"
"Because I have a soul," Haley snapped. "And because he's recovering from a trauma. He doesn't need a bunch of vultures circling him. Drop it."
[INTERVIEW - HALEY]Haley looks at the camera, looking exhausted.Haley: "My friends are like piranhas. If they find out he's staying in my house, they'll be 'studying' over every night. I have to protect my territory. And by territory, I mean my peace of mind. And also, it's really hard to look cool when your cousin is accidentally the most popular person in school within four hours."
But the real test came at 3:30 PM. The football tryouts.
The field was baked in the afternoon sun, the smell of cut grass and sweat thick in the air. Coach Miller, a man who looked like he'd been carved out of an old tire, blew his whistle. "Alright, ladies! Let's see some speed! 40-yard dash, now!"
I stepped up to the line. Beside me was Dylan—not the Dylan, but a senior who was the team's current star wide receiver. He gave me a look of pure disdain. "Don't trip over your own feet, freshman."
I didn't answer. I just exhaled, feeling the Peak Athlete Physique engage. My muscles tightened, my heart rate dropped into a steady, powerful rhythm. When the whistle blew, the world slowed down.
I didn't just run; I exploded. My feet barely touched the turf. While the others were still fighting the initial friction of the start, I was already twenty yards down. I crossed the line in 4.3 seconds—flat.
The silence that followed was deafening. Coach Miller dropped his clipboard.
[INTERVIEW - COACH MILLER]The coach is sitting in his office, staring blankly at a wall.Coach: "I've been coaching high school ball for twenty years. I've seen kids who were fast. I've seen kids who were strong. But that Delgado kid? He didn't run a forty. He teleported. I think I need to go to church. Or get my eyes checked."
Next was the hitting drill. They put me against the biggest linebacker they had—a 220-pound senior named 'Ox'.
"Level him, Ox!" the seniors cheered.
I stood my ground, my center of gravity shifting lower. Ox came at me like a freight train. When we collided, the sound of the pads hitting was like a gunshot. But I didn't move an inch. Ox, however, hit the dirt so hard his helmet popped off.
I reached down and offered him a hand. "Good hit," I said, my voice perfectly steady, not even winded.
[INTERVIEW - LUKE]Luke is watching from the fence, eating a bag of chips.Luke: "I saw Mason hit that big guy. It looked like when a bug hits a windshield. The bug didn't win. I'm definitely going to need a bigger commission for his managing fee. We're going to buy a boat."
Up in the bleachers, Haley was still trying to ignore her friends' squeals, but her eyes were locked on the field. She saw the way the seniors were suddenly looking at me—not with disdain, but with a burgeoning, terrified respect.
"Haley!" Beth grabbed her arm. "He just killed a guy! You have to give us his number!"
"I don't have it," Haley lied, her eyes never leaving me as I walked back to the huddle. "I don't even know his last name."
"It's the same as yours! He's a Pritchett!"
"It's... silent," Haley muttered, retreating into her phone.
[INTERVIEW - MASON]Mason is wiping sweat from his forehead with a towel, looking relaxed.Mason: "The tryouts went well. I could have gone faster, but I don't want to break the world record in high school. Yet. I just need to be the best on this field. In the original series, this team was a joke. By the end of this semester, they're going to be legends. And I'm going to be the reason why."
As I walked off the field, the Coach pulled me aside. "Delgado. You're starting Varsity. Quarterback. Don't make me regret it."
"You won't, Coach," I said.
I looked up at the bleachers. The story was moving. The pieces were in place. And the "miracle" was just getting started.