Chapter 4

The week crawled by in a haze of frustration.

Diego showed up late to every training session when he showed up at all. Wednesday he texted me few minutes to practice that "something came up" and never appeared.

Friday he arrived an hour late, stayed for twenty minutes, and left because Madison was throwing a party.

At debate practice, he was worse. He sat in the back, scrolling through his phone while Carmen tried to explain argument structure.

When Coach made him practice a speech, he delivered thirty seconds of nonsense and then asked if he could leave early for football.

The team was losing faith. I could see it in Mia's tight-lipped silences, in Raj's pointed comments about "dead weight," in the way Jamie had stopped even trying to include Diego in discussions.

Carmen pulled me aside after Thursday's practice. "This isn't working."

"I know."

"He's going to cost us everything." Her voice was strained. "Maybe we should talk to Coach about finding someone else."

"There is no one else and we're out of time."

"Then maybe we forfeit." Carmen's eyes were tired. "At least we'd lose with dignity instead of embarrassing ourselves because Diego Castellano can't be bothered to learn the difference between a link and an impact."

"Give me one more week," I said. "If he doesn't improve by next Friday, we'll talk to Coach."

Carmen studied me for a long moment. "One week. That's it."

Friday night, I was at the Castellanos' house with Hannah, helping her with a art project, when Diego's Jeep pulled into the driveway.

I glanced at the clock. It was just eight-thirty and he was supposed to be at some football team thing until ten.

The front door opened, I knew something was wrong. He didn't acknowledge me, just headed straight for the kitchen.

"Diego!" Hannah called. "Look at my painting!"

"Not now, Hannah." His voice was sharp enough that Hannah's smile faded. She looked at me, confused.

"Why don't you go pick out a book for bedtime?" I said gently. "I'll be up in a minute."

Hannah nodded and headed upstairs.

I followed Diego to the kitchen. He was leaning against the counter, his head in his hands.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Nothing."

"Diego..."

"I said it's nothing." He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, his movements jerky with barely contained anger. "Just leave it alone."

I should have left, I mean it wasn't my business. Diego's problems weren't my problems but something in his expression stopped me.

"Did something happen at practice?" I pressed and he gave a sad laugh. "You could say that."

He pulled out his phone and tossed it on the counter. I could see a text thread with someone named "Coach Tyler."

'Need to see you after practice. Principal's office.'

My stomach dropped. "Diego, what..."

"I'm suspended." The words came out emotionless. "One month, effective immediately."

The kitchen went silent except for the hum of the refrigerator.

"From football?" I asked carefully.

"Yeah from football." His hands clenched into fists. "Because apparently my grades are 'slacking' and the principal thinks I need to 'focus on academics.'"

"Your grades are bad?"

"I'm passing everything." His voice rose. "Maybe not with A's, but I'm passing. That should be enough."

"For football eligibility..."

"I know what the requirements are!" He slammed his hand on the counter. "I've been meeting them but apparently that's not good enough anymore. The principal thinks athletes are getting special treatment, so now we have to maintain some bullshit higher standard or we're benched."

I processed this slowly. "So you're suspended for a month?"

"Yeah. Coach begged to get it reduced from three months, but that was the best he could do." He ran a hand through his hair, his expression cracking. "I have to ace all my subjects and 'impress the principal' to get back on the team."

"Can you do that?"

"I don't know!" The anger gave way to panic. "Maybe but there's a game next Friday. And regionals in three weeks. Scouts are coming to regionals. College scouts, who are looking at players for recruitment."

Oh.

"If I'm not playing at regionals, they won't see me." His voice dropped. "And if they don't see me, I don't get offers. And if I don't get offers..."

He didn't finish the sentence. His entire future, just like mine, was hanging by a thread.

"How bad are your grades?" I asked quietly.

"I've got C's in most classes. D in calculus." He wouldn't look at me. "English is okay but history and science are rough."

"What do you need to impress the principal?"

"Straight A's for the next month. And I have to ace the midterms coming up in two weeks." He laughed bitterly. "So basically, a miracle."

The kitchen fell silent again.

I should have felt satisfaction. Diego, who'd mocked me and called me "the help" and treated debate like a joke, was finally facing consequences. He was learning what it felt like when your future hung on something you couldn't control but all I felt was a strange, reluctant understanding.

"I could help you," I heard myself say and his head snapped up. "What?"

"With your grades. I could tutor you." The words spilled out before I could stop them. "I have A's in all those classes. I could help you get caught up."

"Why would you do that?" His eyes narrowed with suspicion. "You hate me."

"I do." There was no point in lying. "But I need you to win the debate championship and you need to pass your classes to play football."

Understanding dawned on Diego's face. "You want to make a deal."

"Yes." I crossed my arms. "You help me win the championship and I'll help you pass your exams."

"How do I know you won't just tank my tutoring on purpose to get revenge for all the..." He stopped, but we both knew what he meant.

"Because I'm not you," I said simply. "When I make a deal, I keep it."

He studied me for a long moment. I could see him weighing his options, calculating whether he could trust me.

Finally, he pushed off the counter. "Okay. Deal."

"I have conditions."

"Of course you do." he scoffed.

"You show up on time to every training session. You take notes and actually learn the material instead of expecting everyone else to carry you." I held his gaze. "And you tell Madison to back off. No more comments about my weight, my clothes, anything. She leaves me alone, or the deal is off."

Diego's jaw tightened. "Madison doesn't take orders from me."

"Then I guess you'll have to figure out how to be convincing." I grabbed my bag from the counter. "Those are my terms. Take them or leave them."

"And if I take them? You'll actually help me? Not just pretend to tutor me and let me fail?"

"I'll help you." I moved toward the stairs to check on Hannah. "But you have to hold up your end. The second you start slacking on debate, I'm done."

"Fine." He followed me to the stairs. "When do we start?"

"Tomorrow." I turned to look at him and for the first time since I'd met him, he didn't smirk. He just nodded.

"I won't."

That night, lying in bed, I stared at the ceiling and wondered if I had just made the biggest mistake of my life.

My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

"It's Diego. Got your number from my mom. Thanks for the help. I know I've been a dick. I'll do better."

I stared at the message for a long time before typing back.

"You'd better. See you tomorrow."

I set my phone down and closed my eyes because somehow, we had to pull off two miracles in less than a month.