Surprise flares in El Tanque’s eyes as Capi nods.
“Entonces, a ver si todavía sabes jugar,” Capi says. Let’s see if you still know how to play. “We’re running drills. And don’t think we’re going to go easy just because eres una estrella americana.”
An American star. I bite back my snort. Hardly, I want to reply, I lost my spot on the squad.
Instead, I flip my chin toward Risitas who flips me the ball. I juggle it three times before slamming it down with my instep, sending it straight toward Capi’s chest.
“Good.” I smirk. “I’d be insulted if you did.”
The crew hoots with laughter and smack talk.
Capi shuffles back a few steps, clutching his chest as if I’ve wounded him.
I grin, feeling myself relax. Relief snakes through my limbs as I glance around the group. This is what I’ve been missing. This feeling of…camaraderie. Belonging. Being back on the field and knowing I’m supposed to be here.
These guys, even though it’s been years since I’ve seen them, have always treated me as one of their own. One of the guys. And I never relished it more than this moment.
“Let’s play three-on-three,” El Mago suggests.
“Okay, pero, cuidado chicos. La Pulga’s here to break ankles,” Risitas warns.
I shake my head and tighten my ponytail. “¡Venga!” Let’s go! I jog to the center of the field.
El Mago sets up two cones on the halfway line for a makeshift goal as we play half field. The play starts—me, El Tanque, and Risitas facing off against El Mago, Capi, and Guapo.
And a fire I’ve missed sparks in my bloodstream. The sun beats down, already causing me to sweat. My mind sharpens, waking the hell back up, after weeks of feeling sluggish. The springy grass shifts beneath my sneakers, my lungs burn from running, and I admire the fluidity, the strategic movements, the smart play of my old friends.
I fight my grin as I note an opening. Sprinting forward, I head the pass from Risitas, letting it roll down my body, and keeping it tight at my feet. Then, I go for it, cutting between Mago and Guapo, as I search for El Tanque. But Capi rushes me, his footwork fancy.
Shaking my head, I slip a nutmeg, a kick that passes the ball through his legs, and keep going.
“Still got it,” I call over my shoulder.
He swears loudly as Risitas howls.
“¡Caño, tío. Don’t cry about it!” El Mago scolds.
I pass the ball to El Tanque who takes a shot on goal and scores.
“Whoo!” I throw my arms in the air, laughing, as I jog toward the huddle of guys.
Risitas tosses a sweaty arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his chest and pressing a loud kiss to the crown of my head. “¡Qué buena, Pulga!” Nice one, flea.
I nod my thanks but emotion swells in my throat.
Not because of the play but because I finally feel like myself again.
For the first time in weeks, I’m me. And damn, I’ve missed it.
I’ve missed this.
Vale
How’s your new place, Carla?
I smile when I see my sister’s text message on the sibling chat thread. Clean from a quick shower, I perch on the side of my bed and glance around my new bedroom. It’s still bare and boring, in much need of a makeover, but it’s a relief to have my own space.
Alejandro
