Furia(40)

“Let’s gather for a group picture!” Coach Alicia said, and a tall, Black American girl, number seven, helped me hobble to the edge of the group. One of the moms grabbed Coach’s phone and started snapping pictures. But I couldn’t even pretend to smile.

Mrs. Tapia came back over to me. “Sometimes things happen for a reason,” she said. “Now you must work to get over this injury.”

Coach Alicia handed me a cold Gatorade and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Gabi, la Furia will return stronger than ever if it’s the last thing I do.”

Her confidence grounded me.

“You have the kind of touch that can’t be taught,” Gabi said, squinting like she was trying to find the right words. “You have esa picardía . . . there’s not a word in English to describe it, but the flair, you know? That cleverness and spontaneity that I hardly ever encounter in the U.S. academies. You played like a female Neymar.”

“Neymar?”

At the sight of my wrinkled nose, she added quickly, “Neymar in his Santos years . . . you’re too young to remember, but he was magical. I saw some glimpses of that in you.”

“We just need you to be healthy,” Coach added. “Invincible. Unbreakable.”

Even if I were invincible and unbreakable, the world was full of talented players. Chances were that Gabi would meet other girls whose skills would outshine mine. How many times had I heard my father tell Pablo that being talented meant nothing without hard work? I would do everything I could to prove to Coach Alicia that her faith in me wasn’t unfounded.

“Thanks for coming to see us,” I said after I swallowed.

Gabi nodded solemnly. “It was my pleasure. I’m looking forward to December. Don’t lose faith. Now, I think someone’s waiting for you.” She squinted as if trying to make out who stood behind us. “Is that really . . . ?”

Finally, I looked back.

Diego was surrounded by girls from both teams, who were taking pictures with him and having him sign everything from notebooks to jerseys and even backpacks. Some of the families also approached. He wasn’t wearing his fancy clothes, just a pair of Central shorts and a worn-out sweatshirt. His baseball cap couldn’t disguise his perfect face. I tried not to stare at his sculpted legs. He was pure muscle and strength. After everyone had a turn to meet him, Mrs. Tapia waved him over.

When he hesitated, Coach Alicia called, “Come chat with your fans, Titán!”

Diego made his way in our direction. If there were ever a time that I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me, it was then.

He had seen everything. He knew I played. He had seen me fall.

Mrs. Tapia whispered to herself, “Diego Ferrari, the next Messi, the next Dybala . . .” She sounded like a total fangirl.

“He’s better,” I said without thinking.

Coach, a rabid Messi fan, shook her head. “Messi already had a Ballon d’Or at nineteen. Diego’s just starting out.”

Messi had moved to Barcelona when he was thirteen, and at that age, Diego had just been adopted by Ana.

When he reached us, Diego shook Coach Alicia’s hand. “An honor to meet you in person, Coach. I’ve heard so much about what you’re doing for girls’ fútbol, especially in the barrios.” His eyes turned to me. “What an assist, Camila . . . I didn’t know you were on this team.” He looked at me like he’d never seen me before.

“It was an amazing play,” Gabi agreed. “How do you two know each other?”

“Childhood friends, I believe, right?” Coach Alicia gave me a look that made my mouth go dry. Although I had nothing to hide, I looked down at the ground. I couldn’t meet her eyes.

“A selfie, Titán?” Gabi asked, and then said, “Come, Alicia! Everyone will freak when they find out I met Diego Ferrari.”

While they posed for the picture, I sent Roxana one of the poisonous looks that were usually her specialty. She walked over and asked, “Are you okay?”

I knew she wasn’t asking only about my foot.

“How did he find me? Did you tell him?”

Roxana placed a hand on her chest, offended. “Never!”

“Then how?”

She shrugged. “Maybe it’s fate. Maybe it’s for the best. Now he knows why you aren’t interested.”

“Ay, Roxana . . .” I sighed.

She grabbed my backpack as if we were going to make a run for it right now. On my injured foot. “Do you want to go? My dad’s parked right there.”

I looked over my shoulder.

Diego was signing a shirt for Gabi, and when he saw me staring, we both blushed.

My heart softened. How could I leave without saying goodbye? Just because I didn’t want a thing with him didn’t mean I had to run away.

“I can’t go, Ro. He and I really need to talk,” I finally said, taking my backpack.

“Good luck, then.” Roxana kissed me goodbye and ran to Diego’s side to snap a selfie with him, the traitor. Then she signaled for me to call her later and ran to her dad’s truck.

Luciano clapped Diego’s shoulder. They hugged, and el Mago whispered something in Diego’s ear.

“I’ll be in touch,” Gabi said to Rufina, who smiled. And then to me, “And you, too, Furia. Take care.”