Kulti(140)

I crossed my legs close to my chest and looked at the nice older man. And for some reason I didn’t completely understand, I told him. “I had a problem with one of the other girls on the team, and I left.”

“They let you leave because of a problem with another player?” He reeled back, his accent becoming stronger.

“Yes. She was one of the team’s starting players, and I was pretty young back then. She said it was either her or me, and it was me.” Yeah, it hurt a little being so frank about it.

“That is possibly the dumbest thing I have ever heard.” Franz stared at me like a part of him was expecting me to say, ‘just kidding!’ But I wasn’t, and after a minute he finally realized it. He genuinely looked astonished. The older German sat up straight, giving me his total attention. “Why are you still here then?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you playing in this league if you can’t play for the U.S. team?”

I blinked at him. “I have a contract with the Pipers.”

“When does it end?” he asked, completely serious.

“Next season.”

His nose scrunched up for a split second. “Have you thought about playing elsewhere?”

“Outside of the U.S.?” I started fidgeting with my socks, his questions leaving me curious with where he was going with this.

“Yes. There are women’s teams in Europe.”

I leaned back and shook my head. “I know some girls who have played there, but I’ve never given it much thought. My brother is on loan in Europe right now, but… no. I haven’t thought about it. My family is here, and I’ve been happy here.” Until recently.

Franz gave me an even look and said eighteen words that would haunt me for weeks to come. “You should think about playing somewhere else. You’re going to waste your talent and your career away here.”

I would later wonder why of every person in my life, I chose to talk to Franz about my career, but in the end something in me decided he was the best option. His view was more unbiased than anyone else’s. While he might have cared a tiny fraction about my future—if that—he was giving me a clinical view. He was telling me what he would do, what the best thing would be without taking everything else into my life into consideration. Not my parents, my job, the Pipers or anything.

Play somewhere else?

I blew out a long breath and told him very honestly, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t give the best years of your career to a league that doesn’t appreciate your talent. You should be playing on the national team—any national team, and you could do it. It isn’t complicated. Players do it all the time.”

He was right. Players did do it all the time. I wouldn’t be the first and I definitely wouldn’t be the last to play for a different country. Fans didn’t think twice about it. They didn’t care as long as someone played well.

“Really put some thought into it, Salomé,” he said in a gentle encouraging voice.

I found myself nodding, feeling confused and the slightest bit overwhelmed by this new possibility. Play somewhere else, a different country. That sounded kind of scary. “I’ll think about it. Thanks.”

“Good.” Franz smiled. “I’m here for three more days. Are you free tomorrow for round two?”



* * *



I was driving home when my dad called. I let it go to voicemail and waited until I got to a red light to call him back.

“Hey, Daddy,” I said into the speakerphone once he answered.

“Salomé—“

Oh dear God. He went with my full name. I braced myself.

“You met Alejandro?” He enunciated each word slowly. The fact he went with the man’s first name said more than enough about how popular he was. It was like ‘Kulti,’ everyone knew him by one name.

“I have a picture to send you!” I immediately shot back before he could give me too much shit.

Dad ignored me. “And Franz Koch?”

I sighed. “Yes.”

He didn’t say anything after that and I sighed again.

“I had no idea they were coming.” That sounded lame even to my ears. “Dad, I’m sorry. I should have called you right after and sent you pictures. Kulti brought them and I was so surprised, I wasn’t thinking clearly. We had a game afterward and… don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad.”

He was disappointed. I knew he liked being in the ‘know.’ He liked knowing gossip before everyone else did, and I had let him down and made him find out that two super-star players had volunteered at my soccer camp through someone else.