I laugh, so happy, so overjoyed, I can’t even believe that this is my life right now. “The squirrel is back.”
She smacks me across the chest playfully. “You said I was a rare bird.”
“You’re all the things, Thalia. You’re everything.”
And right now, we have everything.
Chapter 32
Alejo
Three months later
Istanbul, Turkey
I don’t even know how it happens, but it does.
One minute we were up by one goal, courtesy of Benzema, then were down by two, Juventus scoring two in a row and leaving us to play a frantic game of catch up.
It’s the final game for the UEFA Champions League and we’re facing a team we’ve won against before. Juventus has Ronaldo now, which makes this match tricky, and the fact that the last time they played us in the final (back when we had Ronaldo), they lost, so they are out for vengeance, and to prove themselves again. They aren’t a team to be trifled with and Ronaldo keeps scoring on us, probably because he knows how we play, and he’s a fucking genius.
But he’s not getting any younger, and at the moment, I’ve got nothing but time on my side. I’m the younger man, here.
I ignore the massive crowd gathered around us at this stadium in Istanbul, the cheering, the chanting, and I dig deeper into my tunnel vision. I know Thalia is out there on the sidelines, watching my every move, and somewhere up in that dark sky above, my father is looking down on me.
I need to make them both proud.
I need to make the team proud.
I need to make myself proud.
I double down, drown out the world, and connect to the game.
It takes a bit, a lot of back and forth, a lot of pressure building on both goalies.
Then I get the ball, getting it past the defender just in time to pass it to Luka, who then kicks to Rene, who appears at the right place at the right time.
My heart is in my throat as he kicks it in.
GOOAAALLLL!
I leap up, fisting pumping before running across the pitch and jumping onto Rene’s back, hamming it up, playing up the crowd who is going wild.
Getting there.
We’re still getting there.
We keep going, buoyed by the goal and I’m buoyed by the idea of winning and what that exactly means for me tonight.
It means more than anyone can know.
Juventus get the ball but our goalie makes a great save, nearly soaring higher than the net itself, and then it’s back to us.
Luciano passes me the ball and I start running faster, whipping past the defenders, using my arm to brush them off and hoping the ref doesn’t make note of it.
I kick it to the goal.
It bounces off the post.
I don’t even have time to react because it bounces back toward Luciano who is running to it, just as a Juventus player runs right into him, pushing him down.
Luciano tumbles, rolling over and holding his shoulder, and everyone in the crowd gasps, half of the crowd whistling for the penalty.
Thankfully, Luciano gets to his knees and gets back up, shrugging his shoulder, while the ref starts reprimanding the player who pushed him.
We get a penalty kick.
In these cases, Luciano is the one who usually takes them.
I walk over to my place, exchanging a look with him, wondering if he’s okay to do this, if I should take his place this time, but he just nods, looking more determined than I’ve ever seen him.
He’s got this.
The ball is placed in front of him.
I watch him line it up with his eyes and I know what kind of kick he’s going to do.
He pulls back and strikes, going for a “Panenka” kick, the ball lofting up in the air, arcing over Juventus’ defense who jump up in vain, but it’s not high enough to stop the ball.
At the last second, just before the ball hits the top rim of the net, it starts its descent, like a bird coming in for landing.
It skims the bottom of the top of the net, over the goalie’s outstretched hands, and soars to the back.
GOOOOAAAALLLL!
All I hear is screaming, probably my own screaming, as we all start running after Luciano as he does his victory dance (always entertaining), launching ourselves on top of him.
Tied!
Three-Three.
Twenty minutes left.
This cup will be ours.
The intensity is ramped up to the max now. Both teams are playing hard, taking risks, some of those risks paying off, others ending in penalties for both sides. Players are substituted on