“They’re friendly,” Roman says. “None of us can really be friends with an official. You know that. It’s no different than you with that Mr. Clean guy?—”
“Mr. What?” I shake my head, clueless as to what he’s talking about. My English is good—more like great. But everynow and then, I still miss little things. For instance, Maggie and Margaret. I didn’t know they were the same. And now, Mr. Clean—I’m not catching on to what Roman is saying.
“You know.” Roman snaps, thinking. “Jared or Jacob or?—”
“Jason Arnell?”
He points in my direction. “That’s his name. You’re always friendly with that guy. He’s an official.”
“I’m not friendly. I’m nice. We have history. He likes Brazil. He likes my jokes. He?—”
“Yeah. Those are all synonyms for friendly.”
My lip curls. “But she’s a?—”
“A woman?” Roman says, one brow raised.
“A walking whistle. She’s decided I’m enemy number one—for no good reason and?—”
“I thinkyoudecided that.”
“You know she does everything she can to make my life hard. You know that.” I grit my teeth, watching as Callum jogs back to us.
But Roman doesn’t jump to agree with me.
“Hey guys,” Cal says, and we all gather round. “Sacramento’s here, too. We’ve got twenty Little League teams and twenty total pros. So, one pro per team. Maggie said for us to pick any team and to do some mentoring. Mostly, they’re just really excited to have us here. So, if there’s time, let the kids ask questions, sign a ball or notebook, whatever they brought. She’s talking with the volunteer coaches now; they’ll disperse to their assigned fields in a minute, and then we can pair up. Kids should be here any minute.”
I tighten my jaw and peer past the guys to the Little League coaches listening toMaggie. Just like Callum said they would, they separate, each one walking to a different mini soccer field.
When McCrae makes her way to her own field and opens up a bag of soccer balls, I take off. A week ago, that womanasked me to stay far from her the next time I saw her. And yesterday, she fouled me for something that could have easily been overlooked. If she’s going to make my life hard, I’m going to repay the favor. I’ll mentor her team, and maybe they’ll find out how corrupt their coach is. Maybe they’ll revolt on her.
I’ve got a clear path to McCrae when I hear Callum. “Oh, brother.” He jogs up beside me, tugging on my elbow. “Maybe I should take this team. Eh?”
“I’ve got it,” I tell him with a smile.
He runs a hand through his hair. “Be nice, Lucca,” he says as I step onto McCrae’s field.
There are soccer fields lined out all over this massive grassy area, each of various sizes, but this one—McCrae’s —is tiny. “Why are your nets so small? Is this some sort of punishment for children who won’t follow your rules?”
“What?” McCrae says, peering up from her clipboard. “No. This is—” Her eyes land on me and I grin.
She grimaces, and my heart leaps with joy. Yep, I made the right choice.
“Lucca Cruz. What are you doing here?”
“You invited us. That’s what Callum said.”
“No,” she huffs and shakes her head. “I mean, why are you onmyfield? There are nineteen other fields to choose from. You landed on mine? No.”
“Yes,” I say, my brows bouncing, my smile growing. “Now, about these nets?”
“It’s not a punishment, you imbecile. My players are five years old. We use the smallest field and the smallest nets for the smallest people.”
“So, it’s discrimination?”
Her jaw clenches. “This isn’t going to work. You need to find another team, another field, anothercoach.” She stomps the few steps over to me, grabs my upper arm, and attempts to walk me to the edge of the field.
But I’m not going anywhere.
