One evening he found Luis standing outside the gym waiting for his mother. The boy looked uncertain when Bryce approached.

“Hey,” Bryce said. “I owe you an answer to something you asked.”

Luis shifted his backpack. “About whether you won?”

“Yeah. I didn’t. But there’s a worse part. I shouldn’t have been fighting that man in the first place. I scared his grandson. That’s on me.”

Luis looked at him for a long moment.

“So if somebody makes fun of you, you just walk away?”

“If nobody is in danger, yeah. Sometimes that’s the strongest thing you can do.”

The boy nodded slowly. Then his mother arrived, and he climbed into the car.

Bryce stood outside the gym as the taillights disappeared. He had delivered one truthful answer without a camera, a crowd, or a belt. It felt small.

It also felt more difficult than the speeches he had given after winning his tournament.

PART FOUR — THE THINGS THAT REMAIN

Chapter 19 — A Friendship with a Price Tag

Devin had known Bryce since middle school, when they shared an afternoon detention for throwing paper balls during a science exam. For years their friendship had been simple. Bryce liked being the person who moved first. Devin liked being the person who filmed the movement. It was a good arrangement as long as no one asked who was responsible when things went wrong.

Now everything was going wrong.

Devin called Bryce six times in one morning. Bryce ignored five calls and answered the sixth because he was tired of watching his phone light up.

“You’ve got to hear me out,” Devin said. “I talked to a promotion company. They can get us a streaming deal if we announce the rematch before the week is out.”

“There isn’t going to be a rematch.”

“That’s not how business works. You don’t just walk away from a viral moment.”

Bryce thought of Owen trying to walk away at the park. The comparison was so obvious it made him bitter.

“I can walk away from this.”

“You’re scared of him.”

Bryce stared at the kitchen wall. “I’m scared of doing another stupid thing because people are watching.”

Devin laughed. “Listen to yourself. You sound like a motivational poster.”

“Take the edited video down.”

“It’s my account.”

“Then stop using my name to sell a lie.”

“Your name?” Devin’s voice sharpened. “I built that account. I recorded every boring workout. I edited every clip. When you had eight followers, I was there.”

“I know. And I appreciated it. But this is different.”

The line went quiet. Then Devin said, “Fine. But don’t come crawling back when nobody remembers you.”