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Okay, so I guess he didn’t know I wouldn’t tell anyone.
Sliding my gaze forward, I reminded myself that I hadn’t done anything wrong. I did the best I could. It also wasn’t my fault he hadn’t woken up on time. Either way, it wasn’t like I could go back in time anyway. Maybe I should have called in the morning to check on him, but obviously he was fine.
Head in the game, Sal. Keep your head in the game. Worry about things when they happen instead of wasting your time anticipating.
Right.
I focused.
Practice was fine until two hours later, when it happened. I was out of breath and grinning like an idiot as I high-fived the two girls I’d just finished playing with. It’d been a three-on-three mini-game that lasted five minutes. We’d won and after a cool down, our practice was over.
I made it so far as to grab my stuff, walk back to my car, stash my bag in the trunk, and put my hands up over my head to stretch my shoulders when a hand gripped my elbow out of nowhere.
The last thing I expected was to look over my shoulder and see a tall figure with brown hair and lightly tanned skin. Kulti. It was so much Kulti up close again. The night before had been such a blur the only thing I’d focused on was the size of his body and his weight, nothing else. Unlike today. In a sky blue and what I’d heard was officially called ‘snow mint’—it was really just a soft, calming green—training jersey, the famous pooping German had the fingers of his left hand clasped around my elbow, and he was looking down at me.
I swallowed.
I freaked. Just a little but more than enough, even if I managed to contain it all inside.
This was no big deal. None. Poop, poop, poop.
“Say a word about yesterday and I will make you regret it,” the low hard-edged accent whispered the declaration so low that if I hadn’t been staring at him, I wouldn’t have thought his lips moved. But they had.
Reiner Kulti was standing by my in-desperate-need-of-a-carwash Honda, saying….What?
“Umm…excuse me?” I asked slowly, carefully. I didn’t usually imagine hearing things.
“If you,” his tone sounded a little too ‘you’re-stupid’ for my tastes, “tell anyone about yesterday, I’ll make sure you’re watching the season from the bench.”
I could count on my hand the number of times I’d gotten in trouble for something that wasn’t me playing too roughly on the field.
Once when I was in second grade, I got caught copying my friend’s homework.
Twice I lied to my parents about where I was going.
Then there was that thing when I was on the national team, which was me being plainstupidrather than really trying to deceive anyone.
The point was I didn’t like to do bad things or disappoint anyone. Honestly, it made me feel about two inches tall and that was the absolute worst. It was for me at least. Throughout my life, most people had called me a goody two-shoes because I didn’t like to do things that would get me into trouble. I had better things to do, anyway. Pushing around a few players didn’t count because they gave as good as they got.
So it seemed absurd to me that he would think I’d do something like that.
Immediately after I got over how surprised I was that he’d assume that, I got pissed. Really fucking pissed. Bench me?
Indignation, a blast of anger that rivaled freaking Krakatoa and disbelief made my heart start pounding and my chest get tight.
I was panting. Was I panting?
My face got all hot and a knot formed in my throat.
For one half of a split second, I forgot who was in front of me.
It was just long enough for me to ball up my fists, rage making me jut out my chin, and say “You—,” I don’t know what I was about to call him because I was so pissed off—so pissed off—I couldn’t think straight. But just as my hand began to make its journey toward the German’s face, I caught Gardner and a couple of the players that hadn’t left yet just behind him, walking toward their cars.
And common sense mixed with that little voice in my head that kept me going when I felt like quitting this dream, reminded me to think about what I was doing.
The air went out of my lungs like I’d just been punched. A vein in my temple throbbed in response.Don’t do it. Don’t you do it.The hair on my arms prickled up.
Slowly, I let my hand drop to my side and made my mouth close itself.
