Furia(74)

32





That night at Roxana’s house, in the giant bed her mom had prepared for me with crisp sheets and fluffy pillows, I couldn’t sleep any better than I did in my tiny twin with Nico fighting me for room. My fingers itched to take Roxana’s phone and text Diego. Not even the victory was enough to fill the void he’d left in me. Although we’d been apart for months, we’d talked every day. I missed him in the core of my heart—his jokes, his silly memes, the glimpses into his day-to-day life. But now we were worse than strangers.

“He must hate me,” I said.

“He could never hate you,” Roxana said, hugging me tightly after she found me crying. “But he’s impulsive and proud. One day, he’s going to realize what he was really asking you to do, and he’s going to regret it.”

The next morning, Roxana and Mrs. Fong drank mate in the kitchen, poring over the report of the games. Unlike yesterday, when all the teams had started with a clean slate, the standings were all over the place today.

“Where do we stand?” I asked, helping myself to a croissant.

“Itapé won both their games yesterday,” Roxana explained. “Three to zero and one to zero. They have six points. We have four. Praia has one, and Tacna has zero.”

“Two teams go on to the semifinal with the other bracket?” Mrs. Fong asked, and Roxana nodded.

“So we have to win or tie.”

“And if we lose, then Tacna has to beat Praia, but we need to have a better goal differential.”

All the way to the field, we speculated on possible results, which was the most useless way to pass the time. If I’d been a nail biter, I would’ve been chewing my elbows. Instead, I pulled on the red ribbon tied to my wrist, trying to coax some magic out of it.

The atmosphere at Parque Balbin was completely different from the day before. There were several food stands with coal already smoking, vendors selling T-shirts and flags, manteros displaying everything from watches to purses to little made-in-China Monumento a la Bandera replicas. Players arrived by the busload and camped out in any shade they could find. I envied the little kids heading to the pool in their flip-flops and swimsuits, but my feet prickled with the desire to play. TV cameras were stationed under a white tent and on the sides of every field. I spotted Luisana with the same skinny camera guy in tow. She waved at me and then answered her phone.

I followed Roxana to the meeting spot by field number seven. A cooler of bottled water and Gatorade served as the team beacon and meant that Coach was already here. Roxana’s mom placed a bag of energy bars next to it, and Rufina stepped in front of the cooler, protecting it until we really needed a drink.

We high-fived each other as girls trickled in. Finally, Coach arrived with her sister and a Black woman whose shirt had the NWSL logo. Everyone fell silent. “Good morning, team,” Mrs. Tapia said. “This is Coach Jill Ryan. She’s a National Women’s discovery scout. Coach, these are the Eva María girls.”

Coach Ryan smiled at us. “Hello, Eva María.” She had a slight accent I couldn’t place but spoke perfect Spanish. “I’m already impressed with what I’ve seen, and I’m eager to find some gems today and tomorrow. No matter what happens next, I expect to see excellent soccer.” We stood there in stunned silence.

Mrs. Tapia winked at me, and a fire ignited inside my stomach. Roxana elbowed me excitedly, but Coach Alicia was speaking, and I didn’t want to miss a thing she said.

“I hope you have all seen the game plan by now. Those who don’t have phones, I hope you’ve been updated so we can move on.”

I, along with a couple of other phoneless girls, nodded, and she continued, “We need to win. Itapé is the toughest team in our group. They are great all over the field. Their back is solid, and they have a number nine who is fast as hell and strong as steel. You all know what to do.”

We jumped to our feet and began to warm up. From the corner of my eye, I saw Luciano heading off to watch the game between Praia and Tacna. My belly squirmed with anticipation, but I had to push any distraction away.

Coach approached me to hand me the captain band for the game. “We need you to be unstoppable. I know you can do it. More than that, though, I need you to be a leader. The girls are nervous, but if they see you’re collected, they’ll catch on to that. Claro?”

“Like water,” I said, but I was anything but collected. Luckily, she couldn’t see me quivering inside. The Itapé girls in white and red looked like they could eat us for appetizers before moving on to the main course in the semifinals.

The ref called the teams, and I won the coin toss. This time, the sun wouldn’t glare in Roxana’s eyes. I brushed my thumb along the red ribbon bracelet Diego had given me. I needed its power more than ever. Hopefully, it would work even if we weren’t together. Rufina’s boyfriend in the eternally horrible red-and-black jersey cheered for her. I remembered the championship game when she’d cried and he’d held her. I envied her so much.

And then I heard her. My mom. “?Vamos, Camila!” Her voice jolted my whole body like an electrical current.

I looked at the crowd, and as if my very soul knew where to find her, I saw my mom waving a blue-and-silver flag. My eyes became cloudy. She was here.

“?Vamos, Furia!” she yelled again.