“Is he playing with us?” Tim asked excitedly.
“Sí.Is that okay with you?”
Tim wrapped his arms around the boy. “Yeah! He’s my friend! We go to school together!”
I smiled, inwardly relieved Harrison already had a friend. At least he wouldn’t feel so out of place.
“Do you know what the Spanish word for friend is?” I asked.
“Amigo!”Tim and Harrison said together, then laughed.
“Mui bueno!”
Turning to the rest of the group, I said, “Kids, go ahead and start our usual scrimmage. I’m going to talk to Harrison for a minute, okay?”
While the kids played, I asked Harrison a few basic questions to figure out what skills he had. He wasn’t even close to the same level as the kids on the team, but with the right motivation and the opportunity, I had no doubt he could get there in no time. When he finally joined the scrimmage a few minutes later, I was impressed with how quickly the kids welcomed him into the fold. There was a strong sense of comradery in this group that made everyone feel as though they belonged. I could tell Harrison felt it. His smile never faded as he tried some new moves, and each time he missed a kick or lost control of the ball, the team surrounded him and gave him tips on how he could improve. The embarrassment he’d first felt when he walked onto the field melted away under their encouragement, and by the end of the game, he’d managed to complete several passes. They weren’t clean or smooth like the rest of the team, but they were successful. That’s all that mattered.
Once the lesson was over and the kids dispersed, I led Harris to the main building. I had him call home, then spent the next fifteen minutes coaxing permission out of his father for Harrison to join the team. Eventually, he caved after I reassured him over and over that he wouldn’t owe anything for his son to play because I was sponsoring him. When I handed Harrison an official jersey, his eyes said more than any words ever could. The fabric might have been made of gold, for the way he was holding it.
“I don’t have cleats,” he said softly.
“No problem,” I reassured him. “What size do you wear?”
He told me, and I promised he’d have a pair tomorrow for our first scrimmage. I had no clue if the clinic had spare cleats for the kids, but even if I had to buy them myself, I would do it just to be sure this kid could play.
As he left, my hip vibrated with yet another text message. I pulled my phone out, not at all surprised to see I had six new messages, all from my mom and my sister. I had an hour before I needed to meet with the other coaches for our weekly wrap-up, so I hit Ma’s number, giving in to the guilt.
The moment her voice came over the line, I regretted it.
“Is it true, CJ?” she rasped in Spanish, agitated and worried.
“Is what true, Ma?”
I wanted to smack myself on in the head. How could I not have seen this coming? Ma and Mia both stalked the national team just as much as some of my crazy fans did, so I knew they would have seen the news by now.
“Did you really quit the team?”
Thatcaught my attention. Maybe they hadn’t heard.
“What? No! I didn’t quit!” The words came out harsher than I intended, but she’d caught me off guard. Was that what the press was really saying? That I’d quit? Or had the team been the one to say that?
“Well, it’s all over the internet. ‘The Ghost has left the building, CJ Reyes is no longer on the Mexico National team,’” she said in a flippant tone as if repeating something ugly.
I sighed.Of coursemy own mother wouldn’t believe me. Why wasn’t I surprised? The joy I’d felt just moments before with Harrison was completely gone now, replaced with the all too familiar stress from an overbearing and dismissive family. What was the point of constantly checking in with someone if you weren’t willing to hear what they had to say?
“Is that Rey?” I heard Mia say in the background. She sounded just like Ma, full of both concern and disappointment.
“Tell me the truth, Casper. Are you still a part of the team?”
I cringed. I’d heard that tone from my mom far too many times in my life, but it had been a while since she’d said it in Spanish to me. That always made it worse. This was the tone that had whipped all seven of us kids into shape, pulling the truth from the deepest parts of our souls. Even now, from the opposite side of the country, I still felt the need to cower a little under her scrutiny. I could just picture her standing at the counter of her dark blue kitchen, pointing a finger in midair, even though I wasn’t in front of her.
“No, I’m not,” I said. “But I didn’t quit.”
She let out a breath. “Then what happened?”
“My knee happened,” I said simply. That part was true, at least. My injured kneewaspart of the coach’s decision in letting me go. But Miguel Santiago was an even bigger part. His sharp moves and nimble feet left me in the dust. I was simply no match for the younger, more capable athlete. And telling Ma that was going to crush her.
I heard a relieved sigh and could almost picture her placing a palm to her chest on an exhale. “Well, that’s good. That just means you need time to recover. You’ll be back on the field in no time, then.”
“No, Ma—”
“Sure, you will. You’ll see! You’ll be playing again soon!”
This was exactly why I’d been putting off this conversation. There was nothing I could say to make herlisten!Sometimes I wondered why I even bothered. If she could get it through her head that I wouldn’t be returning to the team, maybe she’d really understand how fucked up things were for me. They all knew how important soccer was to me, how much I’d given up for it. Hell, they’d even sacrificed themselves just so I could make my own dream come true. But now, thanks to a busted knee and a string of bad luck, that dream was quickly unraveling. I just… didn’t know how to get their attention anymore. How to make them listen.
“I’m not on the team, Ma,” I tried again. “They won’t put me back on.” But as usual, my words fell on deaf ears.
I loved my family. As unorganized, self-absorbed, and chaotic as they could be, I truly did love them and appreciated everything they’d done to help me get to where I am. I just wished I knew how to get them to seeme, not the star I’d become. Half the world knew me by name and could recognize me on the streets, yet I couldn’t get my own family to hear me when I spoke.
And that, more than being let go from the team, hurt.
