Chapter 87

The diner buzzed with late-night energy—clattering plates, laughter, and the low hum of music drifting from an old speaker. We were crammed into a booth, shoulder to shoulder, surrounded by baskets of wings, greasy burgers, and half-empty soda bottles. "Thanks for bringing us here, Coach," Wes said, grinning with a mouth full of food. "This place is legit. The food is so good." "Thank you, Coach," the rest of the team echoed, their voices overlapping with excitement. Coach gave a satisfied nod and leaned back in his seat. "Had to celebrate. I secured a major sponsor at the banquet." He pointed toward me, smiling. "And it's because of you, Zane. They asked about you specifically." "Me?" I blinked, stunned. The word slipped out before I could stop it, my mind flashing back to that night, to Garcia's voice curling like smoke in the bathroom air. The memory of his stare still lingered like a cold hand on the back of my neck. "They've been following your progress," Coach continued. "They sa