“Coach, come on!” Scotta continued, briskly walking after the coach as he stormed away from her, clearly done with the conversation. She, however, was not.
“I’m sorry Scotta, but there’s nothing I can do-” He began with a sigh, turning to face his fuming student once more, a newspaper held firmly in his grasp.
“Bull!” Scotta exclaimed, stopping in front of him. “I have no idea how those journalists found out about my dad, and quite frankly I don’t care. But I don’t see how it means that I’m not allowed to compete anymore!”
“Because if we don’t allow Greek demi-gods to compete, then for fairness’ sake we can’t allow Norse demi-gods to compete either.” The coach replied, clearly also disheartened at the news. “I’m sorry Scotta, I really am. But I don’t make the rules. There’s nothing I can do.” He shrugged, giving her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before walking away, leaving Scotta alone.
Hector hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on the conversation, he just so happened to be at the right place at the right time- or the wrong place at the wrong time, depending on how you looked at it.
He sat there patiently with a big smile on his face as her true heritage was revealed. But of course, empathized with her when they coach decidedly kicked her out of the club.
Once the coach left, Hector shot up and walked to her. The height difference briefly baffled him, unsure of whether to kneel to talk to her but he settled for looking down instead.
“WOW, I DID NOT THINK YOU WOULD BE THIS SHORT.... BUT IT IS NICE TO HEAR THERE IS ANOTHER DEMI-GOD IN AURADON. PERHAPS WE OURSELVES COULD START UP OUR OWN CLUB? WHAT SAY YOU?”
