Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 134387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 672(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 672(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
I should’ve known.
That he’d come up in conversations or that I’d hear his name in passing. It used to happen a lot, back in my old high school, normal high school.
He’s pretty famous around these parts.
He’s The Blond Arrow, the pro soccer player. Of course he’s famous. And of course he’d be famous here as well, at a girl’s reform/therapeutic school. His mom is the principal, isn’t she?
So yeah, I should’ve expected this.
But somehow I didn’t.
And now I’m here. In the third-floor bathroom.
Because Poe wants to show us something. A press conference, she said.
The reason we’re in the third-floor bathroom is because it’s always out of order so no one goes here. No one who’s up to any good anyway and we fit the bill perfectly.
Because Poe has a cell phone in her hand, which everyone knows is super duper forbidden, here at St. Mary’s. If we get caught, we will probably lose all our privileges and God only knows what else.
But Poe is hitting all the keys on her phone like she’s done it a thousand times before and Callie and Wyn don’t seem to care and I’m in such shock that I don’t care either.
Especially not when the video Poe was trying to get loads and I’m staring directly at him.
His dirty blond, sun-struck hair is the first thing I see.
Maybe because it’s shining under what looks to be a thousand overhead lights. Not to mention the flash of a thousand cameras that are all pointed toward him.
He’s sitting on a podium with a bunch of other people whom I’ve seen many times before. I haven’t met them personally, of course, but they always hover around him on events like this.
It’s an MLS press conference.
There’s that yellow and blue shiny logo of his team, LA Galaxy, fluttering behind him on a giant screen with a black and white soccer ball, and there’s his coach with the shock of white hair, sitting beside him at the podium.
For a second, I get distracted by the moving strip at the bottom of the screen, displaying different headlines.
Emerging star of the LA Galaxy injured during practice; LA Galaxy to replace their midfielder superstar with a rookie; The Blond Arrow, hailed by critics and fans as the new David Beckham, to leave the season unfinished…
There’s more of it, more headlines, the same thing said in a variety of ways.
The same thing being: he is injured. And that he can’t play for the rest of the season.
But I don’t understand…
I don’t get it.
He was fine a week ago.
“So what does it mean for the team and the rest of the season?”
I’m still reeling from the headlines on the bottom when someone asks this question. Someone off screen, and of all people sitting at the long table with black mics in front of them, it’s directed at him.
I know because he hears it.
He hears it and his jaw that I’ve always likened to a sharp and sculpted blade moves back and forth. It’s very subtle and I don’t even think that anyone notices, not in the commotion of events like this, but I do.
I do because I’m attuned to him.
And because it’s such an… atypical reaction for him.
Arrow never moves his jaw back and forth. He never gets annoyed enough to do that.
He’s patient.
He’s patient and determined and level-headed. I’ve heard this about him a number of times, at the interviews, at the press conferences.
His calm is legendary.
“What it means – obviously – is that I won’t be playing on the team for the rest of the season.”
That increases the roar around him and the team coach leans forward and says, “What he means is that it’s very unfortunate and no one could’ve seen it coming. But Rodriguez is an excellent wide midfielder and as hard as it will be to fill the shoes he’s had to step into, we’ll be making every effort to help him. As we will help Carlisle as much as we can with his recovery.”
His blue eyes flash, then.
They go from a summery blue to stormy and wintry.
Again, it’s so atypical that I notice it right away.
I not only notice it but I absorb the shock of it.
Because Jesus Christ, a week ago, when I was packing my bags to leave for St. Mary’s, Leah and I, we watched his game together.
The soccer season is on and they were playing New York City FC. And okay, so they lost that game and as far as I know Arrow, it must have hurt him because he’s very competitive.
But he’s lost games before and he always comes back swinging.
He appeared fine at the press conference after. A little grim but fine. Also, he called the house to talk to Leah later that night – he always calls after every game of his – and well, I listened in – I always do.