“Don’t worry about it. It’s fine. If she does something like this again, we’ll figure it out, but really, don’t worry about it.” She was a crappy person who had to live with the effects of her awful personality for the rest of her life. That was bad enough.
Gardner’s eyebrows went up in disbelief, but he didn’t argue. “You let me know if you change your mind.”
I nodded and stood up, ready to get out of there so I could think of as many bad names for Amber as I could in private. “I will. Thanks for letting me know though, G. I appreciate it.”
“Anytime.” He watched me for a second before saying, “Sal, you know you can come to me with anything, right?”
“I know.” It was the truth. “You’re a good guy, Coach.”
Gardner smiled as I made my way out of his office with a wave. “Rest up tonight. I need your head in the game tomorrow.”
“You got it,” I said, closing the door behind me.
I made it about ten feet down the hallway before an amountof anger I didn’t think I was capable of filled my entire soul. Amber had taken away the national team from me, fine. But now she was stooping low enough to try and jeopardize my career in the WPL?
That bitch.
I went home and took my anger out on the bathtub with a sponge and cleaner.
A LITTLE MORE THAN halfway through the game the next day, I accepted the fact that I was playing like complete and total crap.
All right, that was a bit of an exaggeration, but the point was I was playing pretty terrible. I was distracted and angry. For once in my life, I couldn’t push everything else down to focus.
The maliciousness in Amber’s actions made my head want to explode. It wasn’t like she hadn’t done enough in the past to begin with either. Talking to her after the last game ended up stirring up some real resentment from me that not even my dirty bathroom could make go away. My head and my heart weren’t in it, and I was too pissed off to give a shit.
So when my number went up on the board in red, and another girl’s number went up in green, I wasn’t totally surprised they were taking me out. I couldn’t get angry about it either. Embarrassed and resigned, yes. I’d only gotten substituted a handful of times, and it had always been for a good reason: unavoidable cramps and torn muscles. There was also that one time I got too aggressive after a player elbowed me in the kidney and hadn’t gotten caught, but Gardner took me out before I did something I might regret. But this time there was no valid excuse for how sloppy I was playing or how absentminded I was today.
It was pathetic. I knew better. I did better. I could handle more than this without blinking an eye, and I failed spectacularly.
I slowly jogged off the field, avoiding everyone and anyone’s eyes, as I stared straight forward. Just as I was heading to the bench, the only route available was a sliver between Kulti and Gardner, ahand grabbed my wrist. Gardner wasn’t the grabbing type, so I knew before even looking over my shoulder who it was.
Those crazy-colored eyes stared down at me from their position eight inches above mine. A furrow creased the space in the middle of his auburn eyebrows. “What the hell is going on with you?” he snapped.
I took a sharp inhale and met his gaze directly with a single shrug. “I’m sorry.” I wasn’t going to make any excuses. There weren’t any.
That must have pissed him off because his nostrils flared. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”
“There’s nothing elsetosay. I’m playing like shit, and you’re taking me out. I get it.”
Honest to God, if Kulti was the type of person that smacked himself in the forehead, he had the expression on his face that said he’d be doing it right then. “Get out of my face right now; I’ll deal with you later.”
Even though I was sort of expecting his response to be similar, I still recoiled. But even as I did, I bit my words back, swallowed my pride, accepted my fault, and marched over to the bench. Elbows to my knees, I sat forward and watched the rest of the game, mentally kicking myself in the ass for being such an idiot.
An hour later, our team had barely squeaked by with a 1-0 win in thanks to a ball that hit the tip of Grace’s foot just perfectly. We headed to the locker rooms and listened to the coaching staff drone on about what we did wrong, and what wereallydid wrong. Kulti didn’t even bother looking at me when he decided to speak, but it was obvious to me that he was referring to all my screwups. Normally that would have put me on edge, but I had already accepted reality. As a wrap, Gardner gave his bit of motivational advice for the next week, and we were released to get out of the locker room.
Showering, getting dressed, and heading toward the bus for a ten-hour drive back to Houston, I managed to avoid talking to anyone. I was too angry with myself for slacking off to be good company, and everyone gave me space. Sternum burning withembarrassment for playing like such an asshole, I managed to make it halfway to the bus before I caught Kulti standing off to the side as he spoke to… a woman. Was that a woman? I squinted.
“Casillas!”
I hesitated. Did I want to listen to him rip me apart in front of a stranger who might have been a woman or a slim man wearing skinny jeans? No. Definitely not. But it’d be obvious if I ignored him and kept on walking toward the bus.
“Casillas!”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I guess I’d been warned. “I’ll deal with you later” wasn’t exactly a vague threat. If I were a really religious person, I would have done the sign of the cross as I walked over to where the German was standing. Yeah, it was definitely a woman next to him, so I put on my big girl socks during the short trip.
It took me until I was about five feet away to recognize the person he was talking to. An ex. Blah. She was an ex-girlfriend that I was certain was an actress or had been one at some point. In the blink of an eye, I was pissed off, and every step I took closer made me more and more angry. He wanted to do this now, in front of an old girlfriend?
