Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
It sounds pretty stupid to say that I felt like a small weight had been lifted off my chest, but it was the truth.
While this new and ever-so-slightly improved version of Kulti—at least the coach edition—wasn’t nice or even polite, he was present and in the moment during each practice.
I was pretty sure he didn’t actually know any of our names because all he did was call us by our numbers, but the point was, he was actually calling out our numbers.
Like they were curse words, sure, but he was speaking.
He was participating, and every player on the field soaked in his suggestions and demands.
We won the first three games of the preseason by more than four goals and managed to keep the opposing team to no more than one goal a game.
Was it because he suddenly gave a shit and was giving us pointers? I wouldn’t give him that much credit. We usually won period, but whatever, winning was winning.
I could live with that.
We practiced, we played, and continued the repetitive cycle. Kulti stayed on his side of the field, and I stayed on mine, and if by chance our eyes happened to meet, we looked at each other and, as amicably and indifferently as possible, we looked away.
That totally worked for me.
“DO you want to go watch a movie later?” Jenny asked right before lunging to the right to block one of the penalty kicks I’d just taken at her. She blocked it in time. Bah.
“Maybe.” From off the side of the field, Gardner kicked another ball for me to attempt another shot. “I was thinking of having a boxed wine type of night.”
She snickered. “What happened?”
Of course she’d understand that something had driven me to drink.
“I talked to my sister on the phone last night, and she called me a know-it-all, nosey bitch after I told her she needed to chill out and quit giving our dad a hard time. Every time I talk to him on the phone, she’s always yelling at him for something or another.
I don’t know what the hell is wrong with her. ”
She grinned at me. Boxed wine was our cheat meal-slash-comfort food.
Nothing said how truly crappy you were feeling like boxed wine.
But hopefully it wouldn’t come down to that.
It wouldn’t… I hoped. But apart from waking up aggravated because of my conversation with Ceci the night before, I’d just felt a little on edge all morning.
Pissed off maybe, though I wasn’t sure what the hell I had to be mad about. It was just one of those days, I guess.
“I’m sure she’ll grow out of it eventually.” Jenny offered what I’d already considered years ago when Ceci’s hormones kicked in and she began going through these phases. Sometimes we were best friends, and then suddenly I was her worst enemy in the universe.
“I hope so. I’ve told her a hundred times that there’s no comparison between any of us.
She knows Mom would have rather I’d chosen something else to do with my life, but she still acts like she’s the black sheep of the family.
She thinks she’s the letdown, because according to her, she’s not good at anything.
” I rolled my eyes. “Such a drama queen. I wasn’t like that when I was younger. Were you?”
Jenny shook her head. “No, but my older sister was the devil. She used to hide my cleats, draw penises on them with a Sharpie, and stab my practice balls because she thought it was funny.”
We made eye contact with each other and then burst out laughing together. “You win, Jen. Holy shit.”
She made a little curtsy in acknowledgment.
I backed up four steps and eyed the top right of the goal, making my way like I was aiming in that direction, but at the last minute, kicked the ball left. Nailed it.
“Good one, Sal!” Gardner cheered from his spot. I gave him a thumbs-up.
Jenny frowned but waved me on. “Another one.”
I backed up five steps and aimed for the right of the goal, chest level. Jenny’s outstretched hands managed to block the shot and made the ball go flying out. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted someone blocking the ball’s rogue trajectory with his chest.
It was Kulti.
Holy crap, it was like a high-definition flashback of him from a few years ago.
He let the ball roll down his sternum and onto his knee, where he bounced it a few times.
Somehow I just knew to take a step away, just like Jenny knew to squat a little to get into position to block the shot that was coming.
In the blink of an eye, Kulti let the ball fall to the top of his foot, one bounce and then another, and then it was whizzing through air, lightning-fast in his signature way, on a one-way ticket into the goal.
Then it got detoured by Jenny’s freakishly large hands.
“Holy shit!” yelled Gardner.
I clasped my hand over my mouth in shock.
How I didn’t make a big deal out of the block, much less manage not to say anything, amazed me. I was an adult most of the time.
“Hey, pass me the ball,” I called out to her, giving her this “dang, girl” look that showed how impressed I was. I mean, Jenny was the best goalkeeper on the team. She was probably one of the best goalkeepers in the last decade but… whoa. Kulti had been one of the best players in the world, ever.
She started to do a little bow before eyeing Kulti on the side of the field, and she stopped, thinking better of it.
She’d just blocked his shot; maybe it wouldn’t be the best idea to rub it in his face.
Maybe. But seeing her do it motivated me.
I let the ball stop where it finished rolling, took two steps back and went for it.
The shot just barely cleared the top of the frame, swallowed by the net. Score.
“Once more,” Kulti called out from his previous spot off to the side of the field.
Gardner passed him a ball. The King took two long steps back, eyed the round white object and then eyed the goal, and he went for it. The ball sailed through the air, a quick sharp arc that flew—and hit the side bar of the goal.
What the hell was happening?
“Again.”
Jenny passed him the ball the third time.
He backed up again and went for it. That time, it did manage to escape Jenny’s reach and once more, it was just short of making it in the net.
I don’t think I’d ever seen this man miss a penalty kick—ever.
Ever. Not once in any tournament or season game.
Never. There were videos on the internet of him nailing ridiculous shots that defied gravity, nature, and pure good luck.
I made sure to school my features so that I wouldn’t have an expression on my face that gave away how surprised I was.
If I were him… oh man. I’d want to crawl under a rock and die.
And if he still had a fraction of the ego he did before…
Jenny met my eyes in silence for a moment before she tipped her face back to make it seem like she was wiping her eyes.
I was well aware of the fact that I should have looked around or pretended like I hadn’t just seen Kulti miss three shots. It was a sign of the apocalypse.
Unfortunately, instead of looking anywhere else, I looked right at him, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. It’d been two years since he’d retired, so obviously he probably wasn’t playing anywhere near as much as he used to. But regardless….
Poop. Poop.
Okay, right. He was human. Humans made mistakes.
I felt myself nibbling at my bottom lip and looked from side to side. Scratching the tip of my nose, I waved Jenny forward. “Another ball, please.”
She nodded way too sharply and threw a ball overhead.
I stopped it with my chest and let it fall to the ground.
I backed up even further and intended to let the ball arc up high to make it into the net.
Jenny really went for it, the ball tipping off her fingertips, but it still managed to get past her and make it in.
I almost cheered, almost, but then I remembered Kulti was there, and I reined it in.
“Let’s do some upper body work today,” the fitness coach called out from the edge of the field.
We went about grabbing things lying around and put them up.
I couldn’t help but think about what had just happened.
Once we were done, Jenny and I sort of wandered together toward the section of the field where they’d set up some suspension equipment for body weight exercises.
The moment we met up, bumping our shoulders against each other, I held a hand out to her, palm facing up.
Jenny slapped her big Hulk-smash hand down to mine in a low five, each of us giving the other a discreet, sly smile. Sure my palm felt like it got hit with a sledgehammer, but I managed not to wince.
I squeezed her fingers. “Freaking ninja skills.”
She chuckled and thankfully refrained from squeezing my fingers back. “I know, right?”
We both laughed.
I wasn’t positive why I turned around. Whether it was to check and make sure no one was too close behind to overhear what we were saying, or whether it was because my subconscious had picked up on something being different, but I did.
I looked over my shoulder and met that distinctively familiar stare.
Maybe for all of ten seconds, I felt bad for celebrating that Jenny had not only blocked Reiner Kulti’s shots, but that I’d managed to score where he hadn’t. Ten seconds of guilt, possibly.
Then I really thought about it and decided I had no reason to feel bad or ashamed. Whatever the hell was going on with him was his business. Wasn’t it? I practiced and practiced some more to keep my skills on track.
But still… how in the hell had he missed so many shots?
What a sucker. What a human, mistake-making sucker.