Furia(61)

The cousins chattered like parrots and never forced me to chime in.

Pablo and I had once been like that. Now he didn’t respond to my texts. Neither did Roxana.

I texted Diego to see if he’d heard anything from my brother, but he didn’t reply, either. He must have been training. It was the day before his first home game of the season, after all.

By the time we arrived at the indoor field, I was feeling carsick.

Mr. Fong waved at me from his parked car. I waved back and headed to my first official scrimmage since my injury.

Coach Alicia had let me sit out practices, but now that I had the doctor’s green light, it was time to gear up for the Sudamericano.

I was used to having Roxana next to me as we warmed up, but now the team was divided into two camps: Roxana’s and Rufina’s. I was in neither. I stretched by myself between the two groups, the target of vicious looks from Rufina’s girls and of Roxana’s cold indifference. Yael and Cintia looked at me and smiled awkwardly.

Coach Alicia grabbed my doctor’s note. She studied it as if trying to see if it was a fake. Typical Alicia, but there was something wrong with her, too. Like repelling magnets, the more I tried to approach her, the more she pulled away from me.

She nodded and pointed me to the center mid, my least-favorite position. Without protesting, I ran in. We were facing a team of boys a little younger than us, but they looked like baby giants. Gangly, pimply-faced giants.

The whistle blew, and the game started. I couldn’t find my feet on the turf pitch. I tried to summon Furia, but the spark wouldn’t ignite.

Half the team yelled directions at me, and the rest gloated over my downfall.

Finally, Mía passed me a good ball, but my first touch was off, and I lost it to the other team. A blond, soft-cheeked boy grabbed it, dribbled through our defense, and scored. I felt like the industrial ceiling of the warehouse was falling on me.

“Sub!” The cry came, as I knew it would. I didn’t look to the bench, because I didn’t want to see Coach Alicia’s disappointed eyes.

Mabel went in for me, but she didn’t even slap my hand as I went out. Instead, she shoulder-checked me so hard I staggered.

“What’s wrong with you?” I yelled.

She flipped me off.

Speechless, I finally looked at the bench. Luciano pretended he was studying one of his charts. None of the girls looked at me, their attention focused on the game, but Coach Alicia’s laser eyes made me shrink.

“What?” I asked, and I regretted it instantly. As the team captain, disrespecting the coach was a capital offense.

Coach Alicia only scoffed and turned to watch our team. Roxana saved a killer shot. “Good job, Roxana!” she shouted, and in a softer voice, she told Luciano, “She’s the only one improving consistently.”

Luciano sent me an accusing look, like it was my fault the whole team was floundering. Couldn’t I have one bad day? It was just a practice.

Coach never put me back in, and we ended up tying, thanks to Roxana at the goal, and Yesica, who scored at the last second.

The girls looked to be in better spirits than the boys, who didn’t take the tie gracefully, mumbling loudly enough for everyone to hear that they went easy on us.

A tall, dark-skinned striker who reminded me of Pablo at that age told Luciano, “It was a lose-lose situation for us. We can’t celebrate a win against a girls’ team, and if we lost, imagine the shame. It’s against a girls’ team.”

Luciano grimaced. “Loco, it’s just a scrimmage. Get it together, man. Your balls aren’t going to shrivel up and fall off.”

He was spending so much time around us.

The boy smirked but didn’t say anything else and walked off.

I told Luciano to head out without me. “Sure,” he said without pressing me for details, and followed Yael.

My team left one girl at a time, but I knew to wait for Coach to apologize, at the very least.

Roxana left without glancing my way. Even though I was watching her like an alma en pena.

I needed her there next to me, telling me I had the right to one bad day.

Finally, Coach Alicia turned toward me, took a long breath, and said, “What’s all this talk about Diego Ferrari taking you to live with him when he comes home for Christmas? Is all your work, my work, going down the drain, Camila? Is this team a distraction until he comes back to whisk you away?”

When she put it like that, it sounded ridiculous.

“He’s not coming home for Christmas.”

Coach didn’t look impressed. “Camila, when the river sounds, it’s because it brings water. I know you and Diego have something. My sister is moving heaven and earth to publicize the tournament with the NWSL scouts for you. Are you going to throw it away? Diego’s a good boy, but I’m . . . disappointed.”

I didn’t care if the rest of the world was disappointed in me, but I couldn’t take this from Coach.

“It was one bad scrimmage in months, after an injury, and all of a sudden I’m throwing my team and all my opportunities away? I’m one hundred percent in.”

Coach Alicia wasn’t one for sentimentalities, but she patted my shoulder and said, “In your world, Furia, one mistake can be fatal. Keep your goal in sight. Keep your priorities straight, and it will all be worth it. I promise.”