Chapter 28
“PI?A,” BARRERA CALLS FROM in front of his locker. “Stick around a minute, little bro.”
The rest of the team shuffles out, giving me handshakes or pats on the back as they pass by.
We’re only a couple days away from the Border Conference finals.
Two weeks away from the start of the NCAA tournament.
Going in as the number one ranked team in the country but still heavily seen as the underdogs riding luck and having the right team at the right moment, the excitement is heavy in the locker room.
There are somehow more banners in the University Center.
Downtown and near the mall there are blue and green signs on light poles with our faces and “ISLANDER SOCCER” on them.
Even on billboards down SPID, there are pictures of me, Barrera, and other members of the squad, like we’re the biggest thing to hit this city in centuries.
But, when the whole room is empty except for Barrera and me, I don’t feel excited.
I feel nervous. I’m always so on edge with this guy, and even more so lately.
He’s no longer the cool team captain I want to impress and be bros with.
Even when he calls me “little bro,” it feels wrong.
Because now he’s standing between me and every good thing I want for myself.
And I know I can’t count on him to be that brother he loves to say he is.
“Take a seat,” he tells me, eyeing a bench nearby. I do, trying my best to look relaxed, taking a deep breath, forcing my shoulders to untense. Trying to breathe away all the anxiety tells on my face as he sits down next to me, letting out a sigh of his own.
“Conference Freshman of the Year, Conference Player of the Year,” he starts, looking at the lockers straight ahead instead of at me, his hands clasped in his lap.
“First-Team All-America. You’re shortlisted for all of those.
They’re saying you could be named a Most Outstanding Player if we make it to the finals. ”
I watch the way his mouth stays in a straight line.
How his whole face is almost unreadable.
Months ago, we were sitting right here when he told me how I was a Freshman to Watch this year, and the difference in energy I’m getting from him is night and day.
Back then, it felt promising, and like he was even more amped about it than I was.
That he was ready to make sure everyone saw how I deserved to be on that list. This time, though, it feels like—
“I’ve got to admit, I’m a little jealous,” Barrera says.
He shakes his head, now letting out a huff as his mouth goes into a half smile.
“I’ve put in so much work for this team.
Carried all of these mother— Tell me why it’s only when they see a freshman show up and be pretty good at blocking goal attempts that they finally want to try.
What is it about you that lit a fire under their asses when I couldn’t? ”
“I … I don’t—”
“Maybe they didn’t want to be showed up by some rookie. Maybe every single time you stop a ball from getting past you, someone like me, who’s been here for years, knows we’ve got to work even harder to make sure that you know this isn’t your time. It’s ours. It’s mine .”
“Barrera, I’m not—”
“And then everyone’s fucking talking about you like you’re some celebrity.
Like if we took you off your post for a minute, we’d be S-O-L.
We’ve got another goalkeeper who’s has been sitting there all season, benched, even though he’s a junior.
Because all the glory goes to fucking Pi n a, right?
Because we’ve got to get you more minutes on that shutout.
Because now people are interested. They want to see you play.
You’re making more money for this school than maybe this team ever has, every season its played, combined. ”
“Ba—Cap, I’m just here to play some football.”
“You know, when you got into that fight, I told Coach to bench you.”
A wave of fear goes through me at those words, down and then nearly back up as something way more bile tasting.
My fingers clench on my thighs. And I look away from him for a moment, to the door, thinking that maybe we’re actually done now.
Maybe I’m done. That there’s nothing positive he’s got left to say, and it might be better for the both of us if I gave us some distance.
But the moment I move, give a minimal sign that I’m trying to get up, his hand comes to my shoulder, pressing down, keeping me here. And I hate that I flinch. That, as wounded as he’s showing me he is, some part of me is still terrified of him.
“Don’t you want to know why?”
“I … you said it. I got into a fight. I mean, I almost got into a fight. Some refs would’ve benched a player for that. I don’t need to know why. And I really don’t want to, when I thought you had my back then.”
“Whose back do I really have?” he asks, this time looking at me, his expression a mixture of lost and angry.
“Tell me. Because the player sitting here next to me right now isn’t the same one I was sitting by in August. He isn’t the same player on that pinche Freshman to Watch list. You …
you’ve become too unpredictable, Pi n a. ”
“Or maybe I’ve become better? Isn’t that what you also told me way back when?
We were going to get me from number three to number one?
That’s what I’m doing here, isn’t it? I don’t see how I could be doing any better.
I’ve got, like, the thirteenth-, fourteenth-longest shutout in college football history. I’m putting this team first.”
“Why don’t I believe you, then?”
“What else is there? School, football—”
“That boy of yours.”
Sounds that should’ve been confidently said words instead trip out of my mouth. And it’s just a second of me turning from him to the ground, but, in that much time, I feel like I’ve cracked open in front of him.
“I … You’re making some wild-ass assumptions right now, Cap.”
“Except I know why you got into that fight. Everyone on the team knows why you got into that fight. And when some of the seniors and juniors start asking me about that boy who’s always here for you at our games, the one who is still wearing your jacket, about what you are, what am I supposed to tell them?
Because this Pi n a, nah, I don’t have his back.
The one who was doing what he was told, who was every bit the player I was told you were, is he still even here?
“When I told you what to do and then sixty minutes later, someone is dogging on you, when I told you that you were asking for trouble, I wanted to see him beat the shit out of you. Maybe if he had, you’d be better at listening to me.
At watching out for yourself and everything that the you of a couple months ago wanted.
Maybe you would’ve seen yourself moving too far from your own goalpost and had the smarts to get back where you belong. ”
My hands go from squeezing my skin to sitting on my legs, fisted tight. “I’ve listened to everything you’ve told me. When I’m on the pitch, I’m yours, Cap.”
“But the problem is, you don’t stop being a member of my team when your cleats stop touching the grass. And it’s then that’s making me worried. That needs an explanation.”
I’m for real in Plato’s cave story right now. And Barrera is another prisoner, down there in the dark, threatened by me. By change. Nah. He’s running the whole cave.
He’s one of the guys who would tie me back up, or worse, because I dared to be better. He only wants to drag me down and keep me there because he’s scared me leaving means everyone else decides they’re done too. That they want out. And he’d be all alone.
And for the sake of everything I’ve worked for, I’ve got to act like I’m on his side. I’ve got to offer my wrists and my ankles and let him chain me back up. Even if it’s just for a few more weeks. Even if the thought really does make me sick to my stomach. And even if it’s just pretend.
“Then tell me what you want. What do I have to do to prove to you that I am still that same rookie who just wants the chance to be great? Not because I’m looking for attention, but because I care about this squad, and I want this team—all of us—to succeed.
I want you to leave this team as captain of the best group of guys in the whole country. ”
Maybe that’s the part two Plato never got to tell. The ending I’ve got to write for him. We know the prisoner’s escaped his chains once. So we’ve also got to believe he can do it again. That everything he’s learned and discovered will push him to do it. He’s just got to wait for the right time.
Barrera looks me in the eyes, and I don’t move an inch.
I stay locked on him too. I want him to convince himself I’m on board.
And that I mean those words. Because I do.
Nothing about that was a lie. I’ve just got to hope he’s not seeing anything or caring about anything past that final championship game.
He takes another breath, giving me a nod and a smirk. “Alright. Good. First thing then is I never want to see that boy in the stands, at our games, for the rest of the season.”
Swallow down the anger. Don’t let him see me get pressed about him never having the decency to at least say Vale’s name (though, honestly, I’d probably get more mad if Vale’s name came out of his mouth).
Don’t let him see how I want to tell him to fuck off with this ask.
Calm down faster than he’d be able to sense any disturbance, so that I can tell him, as much as I was looking forward to seeing Vale cheer me on at the conference finals match—
“Yeah. Sure. Fine. I’ll tell him not to come to the game.”
“And get your jacket back. I’m telling the entire team I want to see us wearing them on Saturday. Everyone. ”
“Okay. I’ll get my jacket back.”
Barrera takes a slow glance around, looking like he’s biting the inside of his cheek as he nods. “And, yes or no. You gay?”
“No.”
Not a lie.
“Are you fucking that boy of yours?”