Chapter 32
I TRY MY BEST to hold it together. To not have a breakdown first thing in the morning in front of my whole Philosophy class.
But I also can’t not look at Vale as he comes in, gives me a sad, tired, maybe even forced smile, and walks past his seat and our row, continuing up, probably back to where he sat our first week before I told him to sit next to me.
And I try my hardest not to look back.
I’m not even sure me being here is better than skipping.
I could’ve emailed Coolidge, said I was sick or something.
Used my injury as an excuse. He even asked about it as I walked in, but all I gave back was a nod to his “Soccer injury?” and an “I’m good” when he said I can sit closer if it’d hurt to walk up the steps.
I know that physically being in class is a necessity. But mentally, I’m not here at all. I couldn’t guess what the professor’s talking about up there. My brain is so foggy and far away, I might as well be skipping.
“Gabriel?”
“What?” My head pops up from where it was resting on my fist, looking for Professor Coolidge and finally finding him a lot closer to me than I remember him being. How long has he been trying to get my attention?
“I was asking for your thoughts.”
“I … okay.”
His brows perk up and his lips press together as he sighs, all the signs that make it clear we both know I haven’t been listening.
“In case you didn’t hear me, we’re discussing what exactly is the self, what exactly is you .
And, as an example, I ask you, if your brain is here in this room but your body is playing a soccer game in California, where are you? ”
Well, my brain for sure isn’t here, so we’re already off to a bad start.
“I … I don’t know.”
“Want to give us a guess? Promise there are no wrong answers.”
Yeah, that’s why I hate Philosophy in the first place.
“Fine. I’m where my brain is.”
“Why? Your brain can’t physically play soccer. If your body were to still be able to block a goal, would it not be Gabriel Pi n a who blocked that goal?”
“I guess, yeah.”
“But tell me what you’re thinking. Why you first said differently.”
I let out a sigh, my head going back to look up at the high ceiling.
Has this room always been this big? Huh.
“Because … because being able to think is what makes us human. Or, you know, separates us from the robots we were talking about on our first day. So, wherever the thinking part of me is, that’s where I am. I guess. Is that right?”
“No wrong answers,” he reminds me, nearly singing the words as he turns around and starts walking back down the steps to go bother someone else.
My head falls down into my good arm on my desk and stays there the rest of class.
“Gabi,” Vale calls just loud enough for me to hear afterward, as everyone around us packs up and heads out.
The whole hour I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I missed looking at him.
How good it was to have him next to me this whole semester.
As much as I hate how sad he looks now. And knowing that I’m the reason he’s sad.
“I—I think that we should take a break from studying together,” he says.
“Oh. Uh, okay.”
That’s not okay. I’m not okay.
“I just … you’ve obviously got the hang of this. You don’t need me.”
I do, though. I mean, yeah, I’ll get through the rest of my life without Vale if I have to. I don’t need him. Do I want that? No. So maybe I just want him, and, for some reason, that feels a lot harder to deal with.
“But I also don’t want any of the hard work you’ve put in to go to waste. You— I can give you at least that. So, if you have questions on the assignments we have left or your paper, you can text me. But … keep it to class, okay?”
“I—yeah. Whatever you need.” I nod, fighting the tears at my eyes, willing them back into my head.
Looking around the room, everyone else has left, even Coolidge.
Do we need to turn the lights off on the way out or are they some kind of motion sensor thing?
Not important. The person in front of me is what’s important right now.
Telling him: “I’m sorry. Again. I— Shit . This really hurts.”
Vale nods, his hands going from over his chest into his pockets as he lets out a sigh. “Can I just be open and honest with you for a second?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
He’s quiet for a moment, his nerves heavy in the air between us.
“I … I would have fought for you, you know. You’re worth it.
And I hope you get to a point where you can realize that for yourself too.
Because, yeah, it might have taken eighteen years for you to realize you’re bi, but I’ve seen just how good it looks on you.
And I think the version of you I met at that party would be really happy and really proud of who you are now, even right now.
Even if you’re struggling. That version of you who kissed a boy for the first time and never got to spend time with how that felt would be so fucking proud of you.
But he’d also want you to keep fighting for yourself. ”
“I don’t know. I think I’ve let him down. I’m not sure he’d want anything to do with me.”
“All I know is that you’re not someone who loses. Maybe, if you looked around for a second, you’d realize it’s just halftime. There’s more fight to give. And honestly, speaking of fighting, if I catch that team captain of yours, it’s on sight.”
“Please don’t fight him.”
“I might. It’s not just your life he stuck himself into.” Vale adjusts the straps of his backpack on his shoulders, giving me one last attempt at a smile. “I stayed out of it because you asked me to, but don’t think I don’t regret that.”
“I was just doing what I thought was best.”
He lets out a frustrated sigh, his head shaking slightly.
“When they call you El Chivo, it’s because you are.
All of you. Including your bisexuality. It’s just another beautiful part of you, and one that exists just as much as your gorgeous brown skin and the blood that runs through your veins.
It’s a part of you before the game starts and will still be a part of you after it’s over, as much as some people might hate that fact.
You’re better than any of them, Gabi. One day the entire world is going to look at you and know that you are the greatest of all time.
But when you look at yourself, what are you going to see?
What else will they make you give up? And who are you going to have left to blame for it besides yourself? ”
“I—I wish this was easier, Vale.”
“I wish it was too. I wish … I wish you didn’t have it this hard.
But growth and change are never easy. Isn’t that literally everything you’re reading about in that essay Coolidge gave you?
But I think you’re strong enough and good enough to get through it.
And I really hope you see that in yourself one day.
Whether or not we’re endgame or we end up never talking to each other after this semester’s over, I do want that for you.
Because maybe you don’t have to be my superhero, and I can be okay with that.
But there’s some little boy out there looking for one who looks a lot like you. ”
He doesn’t wait for me to answer before he starts walking off. I stay stuck to my spot, holding my breath until the I hear the loud sound of heavy classroom doors closing behind him, and then even longer, until I find out that, yep, the lights are motion sensor.
“You ready to get back out there?” Coach asks me, watching me on the examination table, my bandages off and my fingers tracing over skin barely showing any hints that it was bruised and cut up.
“I … yeah. I am.”
“Didn’t sound super convincing,” he says, leaning against the wall, one of his brows perked up. “You sure you’re good?”
“Yes. I promise. I just— It’s been a week.”
“I’m sure it has. But at least it was only a week, right?
” He walks over, his hand on my now healed-enough shoulder.
And something about his smile, about realizing he has no idea what else I’ve been through since that game, it’s a relief.
That at least Barrera kept up his side of the deal.
What he saw never happened. No one will have to know.
“I get that it being a minor injury probably made it worse in your head. Thinking, what if you just pushed through it. You didn’t deserve to have that shutout taken away from you like that, Pi n a.
I’m angry for you about that. And if you’re angry too, still, go and put that into practice and this tournament, yeah? ”
“I thought you said when my shutout ended my time was up?”
“This is, I think, what we call an extenuating circumstance. There’s nothing more you need to prove to anyone this year.
But I want to make sure that you look back on what happened as only a small bump in the road when compared with everything else you’ll do the next three years—hell, the rest of your very long career—and the rest of this season, if you want it.
So, tell me, Pi n a, are you going to be our keeper for the tournament? ”
I nod, forcing a smile. “Yeah. I want this, Coach.”
“And I’m glad to have you back alive and well. I’d trade every goal you’ve saved this season if it means your well-being.”
I huff out a breath through my nose, trying to keep that smile up. “Thanks, Coach.”
“Now, it’s time to go fight.”
Too bad, in Coach’s head, fight time probably doesn’t include my team captain. Because every day I force down the urge to punch Barrera. To find out how good it’d feel.