“Then yeah,” I say quietly. “I’m tired.”
Luca nods like that’s acceptable, then grins again. “You still got a jumper, though.”
“Damn right.”
We finish the session with a cooldown, kids sprawled on the floor, panting and laughing. Maria organizes the sign-out sheets, hands out water bottles, keeps the chaos contained.
Marco and I stay after to help stack cones, gather stray balls, wipe down equipment. It’s the calm after the storm, the kind that feels earned.
Maria waves me over. She’s near her small office door, clipboard hugged to her chest, and her entire body looks like it’s vibrating. She’s usually calm, purposeful even. She’s also the kind of woman who could stare down a room full of teenagers and win.
Right now, she looks like she might levitate.
“Okay,” she says, voice too bright. “Okay, I need you to not freak out.”
My stomach drops. “What happened?” I ask.
Marco appears at my side, wiping sweat off the back of his neck. “If you say the gym caught fire, I’m leaving.”
Maria shakes her head quickly. “No, nothing like that. It’s—Ollie, we got a new donor.”
I blink. “What?”
She nods furiously, eyes shining. “A big one.”
“Define big,” Marco says.
Maria’s smile goes borderline wild. “Ten million.”
Silence. The words don’t compute.
“Ten… what?” I manage.
“Ten million,” she repeats, enunciating like I’m slow. “Initial donation. With a commitment of five million every year for ten years.”
My knees go weak. I grab the edge of the table behind me without thinking. “Maria,” I say, voice rough, “are you serious?”
She nods again, practically bouncing. “I’m serious.”
Marco’s mouth is open. “Holy shit.”
My brain scrambles for logic. “Who?”
Maria glances down at her clipboard like she wants to savor it again. “It’s through a foundation. Medina—Medina Family Trust.”
My heartbeat stutters.
Medina.
The word sparks something in my memory, like a match striking in the dark. I can see it—Rafe’s mom’s full name, written on a form once. A story he told me in bed, half asleep, about his mother’s maiden name and how her father insisted on keeping it alive because names were history and history mattered.
Medina.
I go cold and hot at the same time.
“That’s…” My mouth is dry. “That’s the name?”
Maria nods. “And there’s more. The paperwork includes a note—just… a short one. No contact details. But it says the trust supports programs that provide legal resources for immigrantfamilies and community-based youth support. It’s… basically exactly what we do.”
