Furia(37)

He looked at me in the rearview mirror, and his dark eyes crinkled into a warm smile. His right cheek was swollen and red.

Then he gave his total attention to the road ahead, driving away from Parque Yrigoyen.

Once again, Roxana guessed my question. “Change of plans.”

I sighed. “I’ll buy data as soon as I get my first check. I promise.” Not being in the loop about the team’s business was unforgivable.

“We’re going to the Estadio Municipal. Coach sent a message a couple of hours ago. We’re meeting there, and then we’re playing a scrimmage against a team of North Americans who are touring Argentina. Gabi’s team. Rosario is their last stop. Their opponents cancelled, and Coach volunteered us to play instead.”

“Gabi’s team? For real?”

“For real.” Roxana helped me change in the back seat.

The pungent smell of my socks when I unrolled them made Roxana cough. Mr. Fong silently rolled the window down, and I, a little embarrassed, laughed.

“Sorry. I forgot to do laundry on Sunday.” The truth was that I hadn’t had time to wash my uniform without my mom noticing. In my defense, I hadn’t planned on playing today. My practice clothes were clean.

“I’ll take them home with me tonight,” Roxana said, and handed me a protein drink, the kind I could never afford and that her family bought by the case.

She did so much for me already. So much I should’ve told her no, but I needed her help more than I was embarrassed to take it. I wasn’t too proud to thank her, though. I squeezed Roxana’s hand, because I had no words to tell her what she meant to me.

Mr. Fong parked by the curb. A narrow, packed-dirt path flanked by naked liquidambar trees led to the fútbol pitch. Roxana and I dashed out. Seeing the expanse of grass ahead, la Furia stirred inside me.

Under the bright white beams of the floodlights, Coach Alicia stood next to a woman who looked just like her, except somehow even tougher. That had to be Gabi. Mrs. Tapia.

Dogs barked in the distance. The smell of burning leaves made my nose itch, and Nicky Jam’s voice blared from one of the houses beyond the trees. Up close, the field looked uneven and full of holes, the white lines almost invisible in the unkept grass.

Roxana and I stood on the sidelines, watching a group of girls jumping in place to warm up. They looked like the Amazon warrior women from Themyscira.

“Ay,” was all Roxana said.

I echoed, “Ay.”

My team started arriving: Cintia and Lucrecia, Yesica, Sofía, Mabel. Yael, followed by her cousin Luciano, el Mago. He joined the huddle of parents and family waiting at the end of the pitch. Gisela and Mía trickled in.

A few of us watched the Yankee girls stretch and juggle in their professional-looking uniforms. The wind carried a few of the words they exchanged toward us, but I was too intimidated to understand a single one. So much for having a licenciatura.

Next to them, we looked just like what we were: a puzzle made up of mismatched pieces. Yesica and Mía didn’t even seem able to look at the girls who were both our competition and our goal. Instead they watched the path, desperate longing in their eyes as we waited. Would we have enough people?

Evelin and Abril joined us, and when a straggler appeared, my heart jumped. I looked up, hoping it would be Marisa. It wasn’t her, though. It was the green-eyed Royal, the one I’d seen by the river with her boyfriend. She beelined toward Coach Alicia and stood under her protection while we glared at her and whispered to one another.

“What’s she doing here?” Roxana asked.

Coach Alicia kissed the Royal girl on the cheek.

Since when was Coach so familiar with that girl? Coach barely nodded when we said hi to her. She’d never shown that kind of affection to us, and we’d walk through fire for her.

Together they walked in our direction, followed by Gabi. The American girls practiced shots on goal, kicking with the power of cannons.

Coach Alicia must have thought seeing this team would inspire us, but how were we supposed to compete with them? Without resources, inspiration and effort could only take us so far.

By the time Coach Alicia made her way to us, we were simmering with hostility.

“Ladies,” Coach said, and placed a hand on the green-eyed girl’s shoulder. “This is Rufina Scalani, and she’ll be joining us for the Sudamericano.” She paused, but no one would have dreamed of interrupting her in front of Rufina or, more importantly, Gabi, who watched us silently, no doubt ready to judge our reaction. “As you all know, Marisa had to step aside, which was a generous gesture on her part.”

“Generous?” Roxana’s question was the pebble. Murmurs rippled through the group.

Coach Alicia gave us two seconds to put ourselves together and then continued. “We only have a little more than three months to get ready for the tournament. Marisa has quite a few issues in her personal life, and it was generous of her to make this hard decision now and not when finding a replacement would be impossible, like in the middle of the competition.”

Understanding fell on me like a bucket of cold water. It splashed onto my teammates, too, who nodded.

“The league is behind us, and we’ll leave the rivalry there. Rufina may have played for the Royals last week, but now she’s one of us, and you’ll treat her as such.”

We all nodded again, even though Coach hadn’t given us a vote.