Home is Where the Heart is - Pablo Gavi

Chapter 15: The Calm

Xavi guides me up stairs and around corners until we're outside a meeting room. The walls are constructed of windows, FC Barcelona posters hung over the top half of each of them to provide the room privacy. We enter through the singular door, reminding me of my days back in high school. Instead of being crowed with stressed teenagers the office is crowed with stressed business men. Around the room several men in variations of similar suits shuffle around the tight corners. I gaze around the room, noticing the over whelming sense of being the reason everyone inside is panicked. A shuffle of papers to my left, an aggressive sigh somewhere in front of me, and on my left...

There's a girl around my age. She sticks out, maybe because she's the only one with long, dark curly hair, maybe because she has opted for a deep maroon blazer instead of a suit. The color of the blazer goes well with the lighter strands of brown contrasting in her hair.

She catches me, unintentionally, staring at her. She smiles. Doesn't look at me weird or anything, just smiles. I smile back, glad to have a friendly face in the room, even if I've never officially met her.

Xavi clears his throat from where he's still standing beside me. I snap my head back in his direction and he pulls out the chair in front of us ever so slightly, gesturing for me to take a seat. I press my lips together and nod at my uncle, pulling out the chair enough for me to sit down in it.

I sit down, my eyes trailing after my uncle. He has made his way over to one of the men in a suit and strikes up a conversation. Then why did he tell me to sit down if they're going to continue their side conversations? I find myself wishing Gavi was here with me, at least then I might not be picking apart the skin surrounding my nails.

I pull my hands away from one another, setting each on one of my thighs. I start scratching at the exposed skin, I'm still wearing shorts and an athletic top, clearly an appropriate ensemble for this impromptu meeting.

I don't know what to do with my hands so I try and focus on something else until the meeting is officially deemed started and we can get down to business. The only people I recognize aside from my favorite uncle, are the club president and Uncle Oscar. Oscar and I have never been as close as Xavi and I. We get lunch every time my family visits, but him and I have never had common interests the way Xavi and I do, even though all three of us love futbol.

Finishing up scanning the table I lock eyes with the girl in the maroon blazer again. I look away quickly, before I can be caught staring again. Or was she staring at me when I met her eyes?

The president clears his throat and I peer across the table at him as he takes his seat. "Hello everyone." There's a chorus of greetings as everyone else shuffles around, taking their own seats. "For those of you who don't know," he says, folding his hands onto the table, "I'm speaking English so our newest player, Isla Hernandez, can understand everything I'm saying very clearly." He nods at me and I nod back, pressing my lips tightly together after the attention of all the men in the room slides away from me. "You are all aware of what's going on--" I almost point out how I, the player, have no idea what's going on, but deem it an unproductive comment--"so I'll get straight to the point." He turns to me. "What name and number do you want on your jersey?"

I don't hesitate to look for Xavi for help. They all notice. "I, umm," I stutter.

He's sitting a few chairs down to my left. He leans onto the table so I'm able to see him. "For number you'll want to pick a higher one to start off, something in the twenties, thirties," Xavi guides me. "Here are the numbers already taken," he slides a paper down the row of people and they pass it over to me. I look it over, seeing a list of familiar names, their respective numbers paired with them, most of which I already knew.