Furia(70)

I didn’t feel strong the following morning, when I opened the door to see Coach Alicia and Roxana. “We heard the news this morning, and then you weren’t at practice, so we had to come,” Roxana said, and hugged me. Now that I had finally cried, I couldn’t stop. But she held me up.

“I failed my daughter,” my mom said.

Roxana looked at me, her eyes full of tears. “We all failed her.”

Coach Alicia put her hands on mine and my mom’s and declared, “You did not, Isabel. And neither did you, Roxana.”

“I failed myself,” I said.

Coach pressed my hand. “You didn’t fail anyone. If anything, it takes a strong person to fight back, Camila.”

I nodded and said all the things she expected me to say, and when Coach asked for a few minutes alone with my mom, Roxana and I went to my room. She hadn’t been here in years.

She looked at the picture of Diego, Pablo, and me eating nísperos in a tree. Pablo had brought it over yesterday before joining the team at the hotel for Central’s next game. It was my brother’s way of saying he was sorry, but I’d already forgiven him.

The cycle was breaking with me.

“I’m sorry for not telling you about Diego,” I said, sitting on my bed.

Roxana sat next to me and held my hand. “I’m sorry for acting like a jerk every time you talked about him.”

I elbowed her softly. “Why don’t you like him?”

“It’s not that I don’t like him,” Roxana said. “I was scared that he was like every other footballer, your brother included. No offense.”

I turned to look at her. “And now you don’t think that?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Seems like his fame and money haven’t changed him . . . that much. He’s actually kind of adorable when he talks about you.”

“What about you and Luciano?” I asked, and now she was the one blushing. “I’ve seen how he looks at you . . .”

“He’s not bad,” she said. “But for now, we’re partners. He’s team manager, and I’m one of the captains. We’ll see what happens later.”

Nico trotted into the room and flopped on the bed, sprawling out and ignoring both of us. We laughed. Laughing felt like a miracle.

“Ready for the tournament?” Roxana asked.

“Not really,” I said.

Roxana seemed to guess what was troubling me and asked, “Does Diego know about everything that happened?”

My heart fluttered as I wondered how he’d react to what had happened with my father. “Pablo said he told him last night. My phone’s destroyed.”

She rummaged in her purse and offered me her phone. “Here. Take your time. I’ll be in the kitchen with your mom and Alicia.”

“Gracias, Ro.”

“That’s what friends are for,” she said, and closed the door softly behind her.

I didn’t trust that I wouldn’t cry, but I needed to hear Diego’s voice. I called him, and the phone rang and rang, but he never answered. After the third try, I typed a long message, telling him what had happened at home, including how my phone was broken, the reason my father was in jail, and my fears that when he got out, he’d come for my mom and me.

Standing naked in front of Diego wouldn’t have been more revealing than writing that message. For a few seconds, my finger hovered over the delete button.

He didn’t need any distractions. He’d worked hard to get where he was. But I knew he loved me. He cared about me.

I hit send and waited for a reply, but the seconds turned into minutes, and the only answer was silence.





Coach left with strict instructions for me to rest. But when Mamá said she was going to the store, I said, “I’ll come with you.” I couldn’t let her face the neighbors’ curiosity on her own. “I need to change, but I’ll be ready in a second.”

“Don’t,” she said, grabbing the shopping bag before she headed to the door. “I won’t be long. Besides, Belem, la brasilera from building thirty-two, might bring the first payment for her wedding dress. Give her this receipt and leave the money in my room.”

She left before I could insist on coming.

On a whim, I turned the TV to The Bachelor, indulging in a mindless game of love, yelling at girls making stupid decisions.

Someone knocked, and I grabbed the receipt for Belem. But before I reached the door, a dark fear sneaked into my mind. Maybe it was my father, out of jail, or that woman he’d been sneaking around with, coming to teach me a lesson. I was paralyzed until I saw Nico’s ears perking up, his whole lower body shimmying with excitement.

I peeked through the peephole, but I couldn’t see who was on the other side.

Finally, I armed myself with courage. I was la Furia, after all.

I opened the door.

Diego stood with his hands in his pockets.

“Hola, Furia,” he said.

My body went cold, as if I’d seen an apparition, but I blinked and fell into his arms.

He closed the door behind us, and when he hugged me, he picked me up and held me tightly.

“Shhh, I’m here. Don’t cry,” he whispered.

My tears stung my skin.

He kissed my bruised face softly, but his eyes flashed. “I’m going to kill him.”