"You should probably let up on the other guys a little," said Miguel after practice that day. Seeing the inquisitive look Hawk shot him, he explained further, "They've been practicing hard for the state championship, and you've been dragging them down lately."
The corners of Hawk's mouth twitched. "Did they say something to you about it?" he asked, zipping up his gym bag.
Not wanting to snitch and name names, Miguel shrugged his shoulder. "A couple of them, yeah."
"Well, if they got a problem, they can say it to my face," declared Hawk. What a bunch of wimps, he thought, complaining about his attitude through Miguel instead of confronting him directly.
He didn't want to admit there was a small part of himself that was glad he still scared the others, if only a little bit. Because it was easier than carrying himself with the casual confidence that seemed second-nature to Miguel, who didn't have to fight for his respect; that was probably why the guys felt like they could go to him, instead.
Miguel pinched his eyebrows together. "C'mon, don't be like that. You gotta admit, they're getting really good. Remember when Mitch landed that crane kick on Red? Or when Bert—"
Hawk shook his head. "It doesn't matter. You and I both know none of them are gonna make it to the finals." Hearing Miguel sigh, Hawk narrowed his eyes. "What? You think I'm wrong?"
Miguel tried to say, "It's not about that—"
"But it is about that," interrupted Hawk. "You know it. I know it. And Sensei knows it, too."
At the mention of Sensei Lawrence, an uneasy expression came over Miguel's face.
"It's like it was with training for the All-Valley, isn't it?" asked Hawk. "Sensei thinks only you have a shot at winning." Miguel expected Hawk to sound angry or bitter with those words, but he didn't. But he did sound determined.
"He hasn't said that," retorted Miguel, cheeks heating at being reminded of the special classes he and Sensei had back in spring, when Sensei had told him he believed he was the only one who had what it took to win. At the time, Miguel had taken his confidence at face-value. He hadn't thought about how it might've looked to the others.
Now, however. It made the extra session he and Sensei had last Sunday feel wrong. Was Sensei still playing favorites?
Sensing how agitated Miguel was getting with how the conversation had turned, Hawk smirked and reached out to clap a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, man. I'm not blaming you. And, let's be real, for the other guys Sensei's probably right. But I don't plan on getting disqualified this time. So when it comes down to the last match, me and you?"
The look on his face said everything. Not only was Hawk not going to hold back - Miguel didn't expect he would, nor would he want him to - but he was going to prove something to Sensei, too.