druga strana

chapter eightythree - no entra ( ; it doesn't fit)

brahims pov

10:11 am

i was out of breath when i entered the pitch. stepping onto that grass now felt like a challenge, like i had a really deep purpose, a mission almost.

marcelo was waving at me, while sergio quickly glanced over his shoulder. he probably was the one trying to cover up that i was late. marcelo on the other hand, the silly guy that he is, made the entire team turn around to face me for a split second.

"sorry.", i bent down to take a deep breath in as soon as i squeezed into the circle, right between marcelo and the captain.

"you're all good brahim. moving on-", just then i had noticed, zidane was already instructing the team. he gave me a nod and continued talking.

julian was eyeing me the entire time. i have to admit, when zidane told me 'you're all good', it kind of sounded like he had an attitude. no matter what, i didn't want anyone to know that i certainly knew 1/4 of the starting line already.

*POV CHANGE*

julians pov

i peaked up to brahim for just a second to check if everything was alright. i was analyzing his facial expressions. he was sweating, clearly out of breath, his face was red as if he just cried. i knew something was wrong, i knew the conversation with zizou must have been about something serious.

i looked around me. i didn't quite know what to do, how to get over to him.

i got back to focus on zizous instruction. i had to talk to him. not brahim, i had to talk to zidane. i started tapping my foot and watched brahim bent down just another time, to massage his lower thigh. i was scared that the conversation with zidane could've had to do something with his injury, which in the end was just a sore muscle, but still.

once zidane and the team started clapping, and everyone joined in on the "vamos", i started realizing that i had just totally missed out on what zidane had said. i didn't know what our next exercise would be, i didn't know anything. but all that mattered to me in that moment, was talking to brahim.

"hey, burro.", i slapped brahims back when he had just bobbed up. sergio gave me a pat on my shoulder when he passed me.

"you ready?", brahim asked, with some sort of excitement.

i hesitated: "yea.. yea!", i was overwhelmed and awkwardly nodded along.

"hey, are you-", brahim followed the rest of the team, "are you - like, is everything alright? is everything good?"

brahim nodded. i was confused. he seemed upset. i wanted to help, but really couldn't quite figure out how.

*POV CHANGE*

brahims pov

i accidently touched jules shoulder while walking past him to follow the boys to the field. i really didn't want to have this conversation with jule. i figured he might be upset. i know he'd be happy for me. but i myself, believed that zidanes decision was not totally fair.

i didn't want to tell him. i was scared, cause in the end, i'm one of the forwards, taking his place. the place that he fought for in the last match. i was confused and just followed sergio all the way to the goal.

"burro.", jule reached out for my arm, but when zidane catched up on the boys and was about to give some more instructions on the penalty training, i crossed my arms and turned my back on him.

zidane told us to split up into groups of 4, just so we can practise a little bit of a trickier penalty. i looked around me, julian and i exchanged a nod, and soon found casemiro and carvajal joining us.

"great. ok!", zidane clapped his hands, "ceballos, modric, sergio, karim.", he pointed at all four of them, "come here please. marcelo, varane, regui, nacho. you too."

with his left hand, zidane guided us further towards the goal as well. he told modrics group to stay away until he finished instructing the plan to us. ceballos already kinda rolled his eyes at the coach. he indeed was trying something new today, but i liked it actually.

we huddled together into a circle.

"one of you guys is going to be the 'alleged penalty taker', alright?"

i felt casemiros eyes on me, but i didn't want to be the one to take it. instead, i peaked up to julian and gave him a nod.

"julian, you? alright. you, julian, choose one of your team mates, yea? you're going to do some sort of panenka first, then pass it over to them, or kick it in the most soft way ever, just so it moves only an inch or two, whatever. of course it costs time, and i don't recommend you doing it when the penalty is the key to a win at the end of a game. but it confuses the goalie, such as the defenders. even though they have a lot more time to catch up on the play- you're just going to pass it, case, carvajal, diaz; you'll just run to get the pass, then kick it, and score. it's eight vs the four of you. concentrate on your team mates only."

we nodded.

i looked over to ceballos and jokingly pointed at him, as if i was trying to say 'i'll be watching you.' he shook his head. i loved teasing him. and i know he hated me. i just didn't know why he did. but that didn't matter, cause when zidane had opened the transfer folder while putting back the offer, i noticed his name on one of the other certificates.

"okay, boys. penalty is all yours, julian.", he said and winked at him.

i had to hold back my smile, just like julian. he was focused on where exactly to kick the ball. he looked around and tried memorizing our positions. i was standing next to ceballos, who was literally already lifting his hand so he could drag my shirt. still, i was focused on julian. he gave zidane a nod, and then all of the sudden, when i looked down to the ball, i caught him giving the four of us a sign.

he quickly showed two fingers, then one. right behind his back. i didn't quite now if he meant 'carvajal first' since carvajals number was 2, or if he meant '21'. i just hoped the defenders would be just as confused as i am. once i heard the whistle and saw julian pretending to aim right at the goal, i started running. julian perfectly scooped it over, even nutmegged karim. i already sensed the chance of shooting it right into the net, when all of the sudden, i crashed to the ground. i heard the ball hitting the metal fence behind the net.

"ey, ey, ey, ey!", isco shouted and ran over to us. he was part of the group that was just watching, they all came and surrounded us pretty quickly though.

i felt julians hand reaching out for my arm. i still didn't quite know what was going on.
everything was happening so quickly.

"step up, kid.", ceballos whispered while putting his arms onto his lower back. he bent down to me and made a pitying face.

it didn't took me a lot of effort to push my upper body off of the muddy ground. i just brushed off my hands, since they were all dirty and wet, since it had just stopped raining and the gras was slippery.

"what the fuck was that for?", marcelo asked ceballos and tried to get him back into the huddle that formed around me. i just tried concentraing on not loosing my shit.

"diaz, are you good?", zidane then pushed his way through the crowd of players and looked down. i, still, was just wiping my hands of. i gave him a convincing nod, may or may have turned red, cause i was holding in my anger.

"good thing this kid is all that we care about.", ceballos shouted over to us.

i got up, angry. i was furious. julian tried to hold me back, but he couldn't.

"what was that, dani?", i asked him, held my head high. i tried my best to stay calm. i knew that if i could risk my place in the starting 11. and i didn't want to waste that, just because that douche was pissed at me.

"what is your problem?", i still waited for an answer, while dani had already stepped of the pitch.he turned around and just as he started running, everybody else did. they ran up to us cause dani headbutted me, then looked me straight in the eyes while mumbling: "you don't deserve shit, yea?"

all of the sudden i was pushed back by him, i was pushed to the side by marcelo, someone pulled me back from behind. still, i didn't quite know what to do.

ceballos managed to rush through the wall of team mates again and grabbed the collar of my shirt. but before he could say anything, it just bursted out of me: "i hope once you're gone we won't get another dickhead into the team. it just doesn't fit."

everyone was switching between looking at me and looking at dani. he was speechless."excuse me, kid?", he was held back by sergio and keylor, "how the fuck would you know that i-"

i turned around and left them behind.

"how the fuck-", he yelled, while sergio catched up on me.

"hey, hey. calma.", he whispered and grabbed my wrist, "calm down, okay? it's all good. this is not on you, it's not on you, brahim."

i stared at kroos, who was peacefully tying his laces. it was like it wasn't the first time this happend. maybe that is just, what the stress does to some people.