Page 4 of Play Dirty
Let the games begin.
Chapter Two
Nico
Freshman
Age Nineteen
Who would have ever thought that I would be going to Villalargos? Me, Nicolas Reyes, son of Milagros Reyes. A nobody—who would not only be going to one of the top universities in the area, but also playing for the Sirens.
I guess bumping into blue eyes was truly a good omen. A good luck charm. So why does it all feel so heavy?
“Not everything that shines is gold.” My grandma would always say, but as I stare at the white envelope, it feels more like I’m holding a gold brick or maybe a fucking bomb waiting to detonate. Blood rushes to my ears, and my hands shake as I look at the gold seal keeping it closed. Kids like me didn’t make it out of the barrio unless you were educated — or dead in a body bag. Yet, this letter means I made it. My eyes water. I use my forearm and wipe the unshed tears threatening to spill.
I still can't believe it. I’m in. I made the cut. Someone needs to pinch me because I’m sure I’m dreaming. I let out a nervous chuckle.
The feeling is overwhelming. It’s like gratitude and rage tangled in a white envelope. For years, I practiced and honed my skills. I passed up partying, drugs, and women, all in the pursuit of greatness. Until the night that changed everything...
All it took was losing her…
To shift my perspective… my goal.
“Open it, bighead.” My little brother drawls, sticking a pinky finger into his ear.
“Ya, dejalo.Leave him.” Grandma says, smacking the back of his head, causing him to wince. My heart continues to slam into my ribs, my lungs constricting as my hands aggressively work to open the letter.
Who would have thought a piece of paper could hold such value? But for a kid raised in the hood of this small coastal town, it means everything.
It means all the pain, the times I had to eat bread just to stop my stomach from growling. The small baggies of weed I passed along to the preppy boys I played soccer with meant something. Because my future is brighter, my family's future is brighter as long as I succeed. Tears well up in my eyes, small wet dots staining the paper in my hands as my grandma prays and Erikson laughs.
“A fucking Reyes, going to the big league.” He cheers, jumping up and down.
“Language?” I manage to choke out, placing my hand over my little brother's head—tussling his dark curls. It’s just us three now. It’s ironic how life has a funny way of unfolding—I just wish mine didn’t come with a double-edged sword. The win feels bitter in my throat, but like the saying goes, success isn’t always sweet. It’s sour with a smidge of sweetness, enough to deceive you into thinking you want it.
You crave it.
I look up at the picture and remember my promise.
The reason I worked so hard.
For revenge. For the truth. For us.
There’s no hunger like that of someone who has never had anything but everything to lose. My grandma pulls me into a tight embrace, tears wetting my neck and shirt.
“Qué bendición.What a blessing.” She whispers, but why does it feel like a curse? Like a false promise of safety. Maybe it’s due to the bitterness that has taken place in my heart.
Once again, I find myself looking down at the letter, my name written in cursive like a brand. A smile quirks on my lips as I push down the doubt and all the pesky emotions that resurface. Focusing on the truth of my motivation…
And hoping that I’m lucky enough to cross paths with the pretty girl with the icy blue eyes.
A week later…
I step out of the blacked-out limo sent to pick up the players for tonight's celebration. My nerves buzz inside me, my body restless as I take in the view. My gaze moves past the Victorian building looming ahead—to my friend. It wasn’t only me who made the cut, but also my best friend Zayden. He looks way out of his element, his features flicking from disgust to curiosity in the blink of an eye. It's a lot for a kid who grew up with nothing. I watch as his brows pulltogether, his thumb pressed up against his pierced lip as he bites the corner of his nail. Lights from behind illuminate the large Victorian structure. Broad marble steps lead the way to the entrance, white lilies and roses draped across them, and right in the middle is the school logo.
A large trident, beneath it, two joining branches.
“Tonight is a celebration, boys, an honor to be amongst the donors and sponsors who keep Villalargos University what it is today. Elite and one of the best. Welcome officially to the Sirens. Once inside, feel free to mingle, and in an hour, the ceremony will begin.” The coach says as he spreads his arms.
