His first instinct was to gather his belongings and head for the hallway bathrooms, but then he thought about the trophy that decorated his room and decided he wasn't going to keep hiding. So, with a determined stride, he marched towards the boys' changing room, ignoring his classmates who were ignoring him as well.

Months ago, Leonel had vowed to himself that he would stay away from the locker rooms when tensions with the boys from the Wild Tigers club had escalated to levels beyond the childhood rivalry they had shared for years. One would think that belonging to the same club would reverse the situation, that Leonel and the rest of the boys would become friends, but that was a mistake. Not because it was impossible; in fact, when he reminisced about his early days at the club, he could glimpse those moments, little signs and words that hinted at the possibility of friendship, if not at least a good camaraderie.

But then Lorenzo's weasel-like eyes interrupted those memories, and the teeth glimpsed in that sickening smile made his stomach turn and sent shivers down his spine, so he stopped thinking about it.

However, the locker rooms were the worst. A moment of true terror for guys like him. It was the place where he was most vulnerable: alone, exposed, and surrounded by enemies. It was like throwing himself naked into a pit full of leeches. That's why Leonel had decided that he couldn't stand the locker rooms.

In the year leading up to the last football match, the boys at the club, even though they hadn't physically attacked him yet, seemed to be lurking around him, surrounding him with the intention of striking, always watching him. Bautista was usually the most obvious, standing nearby, snorting in his ear and smiling maliciously. And, of course, Esteban, who didn't bother to hide the way his eyes followed Leonel around the room. On those days, Leonel remained in a constant state of alert, changing quickly, afraid that they might pounce on him when he least expected it. He couldn't stand the tension, and in a silent defeat that all his peers — club members and non-members alike — could recognize, he had decided to use the school bathrooms to change.

It was pathetic, but now he was the new king of Tigre, and he wasn't going to let himself be subdued.

With determination, he walked across the room to the locker that belonged to him, the one he hadn't used for months. He noticed the difference in the room compared to what he had felt a few months ago: there was no constant threat in the air or the tension of knowing that the other boys wanted to harm him. Or perhaps Leonel's confidence had been boosted by his victory in the game, and he no longer felt like everyone's prey.

He felt watched, and when he turned his head he noticed that Esteban's eyes were fixed on him, possibly offended by his return, a clear sign that they no longer held sway over him. Leonel refused to be intimidated by the other boy, so he undressed with tense shoulders and a straight back, clear signs of confidence meant to show that he would confront him if provoked.

He ventured another glance in Esteban's direction and saw that he was looking at his bare torso. He clicked his tongue. Yes, he was thin and scrawny compared to them, but at least he was working on improving his physique.

With his ego threatened, his temper got out of control, and, as usual, it led him to say stupid things that would cost him dearly one day.

"Do you want me to give you a picture? You can admire it all day long."

He waited for Esteban to react, whether angry or embarrassed by the insinuation; to his astonishment, the boy turned red and walked away. That was his first victory in the locker room.

He had asserted his dominance over the territory and had triumphed.

"Long live the king," he thought with a smug smile.

:

The P.E. classes didn't resemble those of the club, but they were equally invigorating. When the teacher was in a good mood, they would spend the whole lesson playing football. That day, the man was in a good mood, much to Leonel's frustration.

"I still can't run..." he explained, even though he had just given the man his medical excuse.

With a brief nod, the teacher began the class while Leonel lagged behind, concentrating on the stretching exercises recommended by the physiotherapist. Of course, that didn't stop him from stopping every now and then to enviously watch his classmates play. He missed it, a lot. He missed running, he missed the adrenaline of competition, having his senses alert to dodge opponents, kicking the ball as if he was kicking...

He studied the faces of his classmates, boys who had ignored him for years and now greeted him in the corridors simply because Leonel had won an important prize. Boys who, out of disinterest or fear, had left him at the mercy of the football team; boys who labeled him as pathetic just because he couldn't intimidate a group that outnumbered him. Guys who recognized him as Esteban Güemes's prey and therefore decided it wasn't even worth talking to him.

Then he thought in particular of the members of the Club Tigres Salvajes:

Lorenzo, who had taken it upon himself to fuel the team's contempt for Leonel.

Ricardo, who had almost destroyed the only thing that gave his life meaning, but who had also tried to repair the damage.

Fernando and Alberto, who had gladly followed the leader's orders but had left him completely alone, giving him a well-deserved break, apart from the occasional contemptuous glance.

Esteban, who was the cause of his woes, the one he should blame for all the bad things that happened to him at school, but also the one Leonel had deprived of his moment of glory that summer and who might never have spoken to him again if Leonel hadn't provoked him.

Bautista, who still despised him and beat him up, more aggressive than the rest of his friends, but for whom Leonel couldn't help feeling pity beneath the layers of fear the boy stirred in him. There was no doubt that someone like Bautista would not have a pleasant life, and in a way, something told Leonel that Bautista's life was not pleasant at the moment either.

It was at that moment that he had a revelation. He didn't want to kick anyone. The ball was just that, a ball, and fantasizing that it was someone else's face gave him no satisfaction. It was just a game, and soon Leonel would be able to participate in it again. He just had to be patient and consistent with the recovery exercises.

However, just because Leonel had had a revelation didn't mean that the rest of the world had shared his moment of enlightenment.

Leonel might be proud of the fact that he was maturing every day, but his classmates were still searching for the path that would lead them away from the cloudiness of adolescence. So, while Leonel was pondering his personal development, Bautista approached with the ball, aligned his body and kicked the ball with such force that it hit Leonel on the cheek. The impact and the surprise forced him to step back, his calves caught by the bench on which he was stretching, throwing him off balance.

Leonel fell to the ground and had to use a hand to keep from hitting his head. He felt pain in his teeth at the same time as he heard the whistle blow and Bautista's voice announcing that he would help him. But when the guy leaned over to give him a hand, he whispered:

"The next time you insinuate that Esteban is gay, I'll send you to hospital. Again," he added maliciously.

As the teacher approached, Bautista hurriedly stepped back, held up his hands innocently and shouted, "It was an accident!" Meanwhile, Leonel touched his lip to see if it was bleeding. When he saw the crimson drop on his finger, the peace he had felt moments before vanished, replaced by the anger he was accustomed to. It would take more than three months of rest and a few seconds of revelation to calm the hot-tempered boy from José C. Paz that he had always been.

He looked up and spotted Esteban, standing a few metres away among the other boys who were watching the scene. The neutral expression of a disinterested bystander infuriated him, so Leonel marched towards him with determined steps, his actions guided by anger.

"If you have a problem, come and tell me to my face!" he roared as he shoved him. Esteban looked at him with surprise; his wide, guilt-free eyes infuriated Leonel even more. "Are you such a coward that you need your friends to fight for you?"

Esteban clenched his jaw and reacted by grabbing the collar of Leonel's shirt, but Leonel freed himself with an automatic movement. The teacher was at their side in an instant, blowing the whistle and ordering them to stop. There was silence for a few seconds, but then Esteban pushed Leonel hard, forcing him to step back. The teacher stood in their way when Leonel tried to attack him again.

"Enough! To the principal's office, both of you!" he shouted.

Bautista's laughter was the only sound that accompanied the scene.