Alonso's footsteps quickened as he turned the corner onto the narrow alleyway that cut behind the bakery. The scent of warm bread hung faintly in the air, but it did nothing to calm the tightness in his chest.
His mind replayed Javi's smile—that slow, dangerous curl of his lip that promised trouble.
He should've taken the long way.
The alley stretched ahead, dim in the fading light, and Alonso's ears strained to catch any sound beyond the distant hum of the city. Nothing. Just the steady rhythm of his footsteps and the rapid thump of his heart.
But the feeling wouldn't leave him.
He wasn't alone.
A metallic clang echoed as his shoe clipped a loose can, the noise bouncing off the walls.
Alonso winced, glancing back. Still nothing. Yet the prickle along his spine only grew stronger.
He shifted his bag higher on his shoulder and pushed forward.
Halfway down the alley, the first sound came—a soft scrape, like a shoe dragging against gravel.
He froze.
Another sound, closer this time.
Alonso spun around just as Javi stepped from the shadows, Miguel and Carlos flanking him like wolves on a hunt.
"Going somewhere?" Javi's voice was low, almost lazy, but his eyes gleamed with something colder. Meaner.
Alonso swallowed hard, keeping his expression calm even as his pulse hammered in his ears.
"Home," he said simply, though his legs twitched with the urge to run.
Carlos snorted, cracking his knuckles. "Not so fast."
Alonso took a step back, gauging the distance.
Too far to the alley's mouth. Too far to run without them catching him first.
"What do you want?" he asked, though he already knew.
Javi tilted his head, pretending to think it over. "You embarrassed me today. You think you can just walk away from that?"
"I didn't do anything to you," Alonso said, his voice steadier than he felt. "We just played football."
"Yeah?" Javi's smile sharpened. "You think you're better than me?"
Alonso didn't answer. He knew the truth wouldn't help him here.
Miguel shifted closer, his bulky frame blocking one side of the alley. Carlos mirrored him on the other, leaving Alonso trapped between them.
Run or fight?
Neither option was good. But standing still wasn't better.
"I don't want trouble," Alonso said carefully. "Just let me go."
Javi laughed softly, a sound colder than the evening air. "Too late for that."
Then he lunged.
Alonso twisted aside just in time, Javi's fist grazing his shoulder instead of his face. He dropped his bag, pivoting on his heel, and darted for the alley's mouth.
Miguel's arm shot out, catching him around the chest. Alonso gasped as the air whooshed from his lungs. He struggled, kicking out, but Miguel held firm.
"Where do you think you're going?" Carlos jeered, stepping closer.
Alonso bucked hard, freeing one arm, and slammed his elbow into Miguel's ribs. The older boy cursed, his grip loosening enough for Alonso to break free.
He sprinted.
Feet pounded behind him, but Alonso was fast—faster than any of them. He bolted out of the alley, his lungs burning as he veered onto the main road. Head down, legs pumping, he didn't stop until the looming shape of his apartment block came into view.
Only then did he glance back.
The street was empty.
But the cold twist in his gut told him this wasn't over.
Inside the cramped apartment, the smell of garlic and tomatoes hung heavy in the air. His mother stood at the stove, stirring a pot of stew, while his younger sister, Lucía, hummed softly from the kitchen table where her crayons were scattered.
"You're late," his mother said without turning around.
"I stayed after to practice," Alonso lied, dropping his bag by the door.
Her sigh was quiet but heavy. "Again?"
"I have to get better," he said, moving to wash his hands at the sink. The warm water stung his scraped palms, a reminder of the struggle in the alley.
"You're already good enough," she said, her voice softer now. "But school comes first, Alonso. Don't forget that."
He nodded, but his mind was elsewhere—on Javi, on the promise in his smile, on the feeling that he was walking a tightrope with no safety net below.
At the table, Lucía held up a drawing. "Look!" she said proudly.
Alonso forced a smile. "It's beautiful, Lucía."
Her face lit up, and for a moment, the heaviness in his chest eased.
But only for a moment.
The next morning, the tension was worse.
The whispers followed him from the moment he walked through the school gates. Eyes darted toward him, then quickly away.
Even the teachers seemed to sense it—that something hung over the schoolyard like a storm cloud.
At recess, Alonso debated staying inside. But hiding wouldn't change anything.
He stepped out onto the cracked asphalt, his gaze sweeping the yard. Javi stood by the goalposts, his friends gathered close. When their eyes met, Javi's mouth curled into a smirk.
"Alonso!" Martín's voice cut through the quiet.
Alonso turned to see him waving from the far side. Relief bloomed in his chest. At least he wasn't completely alone.
"You playing?" Martín asked when Alonso reached him.
Alonso hesitated. He knew Javi was waiting for another chance to put him in his place.
"Yeah," he said finally. "I'm playing."
The game started fast and rough. Javi's team played with an edge sharper than usual. Elbows jabbed. Feet stomped. But Alonso held his ground.
He stayed patient, waiting for his moment.
When the ball came his way, he seized it. A quick touch. A flick past Carlos. Then he was moving, cutting through defenders like they weren't there.
Javi came barreling toward him.
Alonso feinted left, dragging the ball right at the last second. Javi lunged too late, his outstretched foot catching nothing but air.
"Get back here!" Javi snapped.
But Alonso was already gone, the ball dancing at his feet.
He didn't stop until the net rippled with the force of his shot.
The yard fell silent.
And then, slowly, a few kids began to cheer.
Javi's face darkened, his hands curling into fists. "Lucky," he spat, the same as before.
But this time, there was no mistaking the venom in his voice.
Alonso knew it wasn't over.
When the final whistle blew, he felt Javi's stare burning into his back.
That cold weight returned to his stomach, heavier than before.
And as he walked home that afternoon, Alonso couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming.
Something worse.