Between dealing with Sam who was released the day after the tournament and his training for the fight that Friday, Hector hadn't been able to make it to either of the chess teams meetings yet. To say his brother had been ecstatic about Hector making the U.S team was the understatement of the century. Abel said he'd always known Hector was good but he'd never imagined he was U.S. team good. The guy was telling everyone that would listen, and even though Hector would roll his eyes and pretend to be annoyed by Abel's bragging, he secretly loved how proud he'd made his big brother.

Sam had been adamantly warned that he needed to take it easy—no overexerting himself, just rest. But he was moving that week to Florida, and, of course, his stubborn ass wasn't putting that off for anything, no matter what the "quacks" said.

So Hector and Abel had done most of the work, helping Sam load up the huge moving truck for the last few days, and then Hector hit the gym every evening. Sam and his brother would be driving cross-country for the next week. Hector had already downloaded and setup the video message app on the old crank's phone so they could stay in touch about anything Hector needed to ask him about chess. The chess team would have to wait until the end of week at the earliest. But he was getting antsy, wondering if he'd have to prove himself still.

Luckily, he didn't have to wait until the end of the week to find out. To his surprise, Walter showed up on Wednesday at the gym. Hector spotted him just as he was finishing up his training with Abel in the ring. He walked over to the side of the ring and leaned on the ropes. "Hey, what are you doing here?"

Walter shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. He glanced around the gym. "I've been, you know, thinking about joining a gym. You're right: I need to get in shape."

Hector laughed. "But I thought you were up to lifting thirty-five pounds." He climbed over the ropes and jumped off the ring, landing next to Walter. He jabbed the big guy against the arm to show him he was only messing with him. "Well, you've come to the right place, my friend. And I just finished my workout, so I can show you around and get you started if you want."

Walter smiled. "Yeah, that's what I was hoping for." His eyes went a little sheepish. "You did say you owed me one, so I thought maybe you could show me what the best workout for me is. Just this once," he added quickly. "After that, I'll just do whatever you showed me on my own."

Hector smiled as they both made their way to the locker room. Walter certainly hadn't wasted any time cashing in the favor. Hector hadn't even remembered saying it until Walter brought it up. Of course, he agreed, not so much because he owed him for his help at the tournament but because he was still feeling that annoying twinge of remorse.

"First thing," he said as he took a seat on a bench in the locker room. He started to work on taking the wrap off his hands but stopped and looked up. "What your wearing is not gonna fly. It will for today, but next time you need to wear shorts."

Walter looked down at his baggy sweats and ridiculous long-sleeved oversized Adidas shirt then looked up. "What's wrong with this?"

Hector looked back down at his hands. "You'll see just a few minutes after you start working out."

The guy would be sweating like a pig in no time. Had he never worked out in his life? That's the only way he couldn't know this.

"And next time?" Walter asked. Hector looked up just in time to see Walter rub his neck with his hand. "I don't wanna take up too much of your time because, uh . . ." his eyes met Hector's for a second then darted away again. "I was hoping maybe you could help me with something else too."

Hector refrained from frowning, but was this guy kidding? Instead of frowning, he stared at him without saying a word and waited. What could he possibly want now? After watching Walter rub his neck a few more times without saying anything, Hector lost his patience.

"Just spit it out already. What is it?"

Walter hesitated again until Hector stopped refraining and unleashed an all-out scowl.

"It has to do with Charlee," Walter finally said.

Curiosity replaced his irritation, but the irritation was quickly back when he remembered her total lack of enthusiasm about her newest teammate. "What about her?"

"Well," Walter started with the neck rubbing again, but Hector gave him a look again and he stopped. "I was thinking now that you're on the team maybe you could help me . . ." A few guys walked by and Walter shut up until they were far enough away. "You know, help me get her attention or something."

Hector looked up at him, surprised at just how irritated he felt, remembering Charlee's indifference and the impression he must've made on her, smiling all stupid like he had. Growing up in a neighborhood where it was predominantly Hispanic, Hector had always gotten the feeling that white people sort of looked down on them. It never bothered him, and it wasn't his reason for preferring Latina girls over white girls. He just thought he personally wasn't attracted to them—they weren't his type. Now he was beginning to think maybe that wasn't the case. So maybe his reasons for never even considering being with one ran deeper.

Walter must've mistaken Hector's irritation about Charlee for irritation about his request, because he sat down, looking very frustrated and started pleading his case. "I really like her, man, and I know I need to get in shape. That's why I'm here, but I'm no good at talking to girls. I get all choked up and nervous, and then something stupid always happens."

Hector scoffed, throwing the final piece of wrap from his hands in the trash and stood up. As if he would know the first thing about impressing white girls. Obviously, he didn't. Then he remembered her friend Drew. She was white and she'd flirted with him. Okay, maybe he was being stupid about judging girls by their race. He'd never had a racist thought in his life, and he wasn't going to start now.

"Yeah, I guess I can give you a few tips." He pulled his t-shirt off and pulled out a clean one from his locker. "First things first." He punched his own abs lightly. "You don't have to get this hard, but you have to work on that gut. No tip I give you is gonna work as long as you're hauling all that weight around." He pulled the clean t-shirt over his head and almost didn't say his next statement, but he had to. If Walter wanted his help, he was going to hear the truth even if it hurt. "And you gotta do something about the unibrow and that hair. C'mon." He threw a towel at Walter and started out the locker room.

Walter touched his unibrow and frowned but said nothing then touched his hair. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"Dude," Hector glanced back at him. "The shaggy look wasn't even cool when it was in, and that was like five years ago. Cut that shit off already."

Saying Walter was sporting the shag look was putting it nicely. The shag had actually been a style once upon a time. Hector didn't know what to call that curly mess on Walter's head. Hector had his work cut out for him. Great. All he'd wanted was to ease a little of the guilt he felt about Walter. Now the guy had become his project.

More to come!