Page 66 of Follow My Voice
Perla rolls her eyes. “If you turned her down, then she’s fair game.”
“Wow.” Diego shakes his head. “Piranha.”
“Excuse me?”
Diego puts an arm around me. “Poor Klara is devastated by my rejection and here you come along to prey on her poor heart like a piranha.”
I laugh and Perla pushes Diego’s arm off my shoulders.
“That doesn’t make sense, Diego. Piranha? Where did you get that?”
“Diego,” the girl next to him says, tugging on his sleeve.
“This isn’t over,” Diego whispers before turning to the girl.
The match starts and seeing Kang take the field makes me want to cover my eyes. I’ll have to watch him for the entire game, which will only make my broken heart hurt more. Even though it’s been a few weeks since I came to the realization he was only trying to help me, the pain still lingers. We haven’t talked much since he handed me the tickets for the game three Fridays ago, which I didn’t attend; he’s been distant, claiming to be busy with soccer practice, preparing for this tournament. As for me, I’ve tried to keep myself distracted—visiting my mother’s grave once again, this time with Kamila and Andy, for the second anniversary of her death; spending time with Diego and Perla; even focusing on schoolwork. Yet, I still miss him.
Seeing him now, he looks so different on the field, so sure of himself, but at the same time so serious, so closed off, so unlike the guy I remember blushing outside the auditorium or smiling at me in the hallway. His black hair is plastered to his face with sweat, highlighting his chiseled jawline, and the black and blue Panthers jersey sticks to his body, showing his defined muscles.
I try not to stare at him, to force my eyes to move to the other players, but, unable to help myself, I always come back to him. This is my first… like, love, something? So I assume it’s normal to feel sad after finding out that all this time he’s just been trying to help me. I can’t even be mad; it’s not his fault that I fell for him.
I hear a sigh and turn to Diego, who’s not looking at the playing field, but at someone else on the sidelines. I follow his gaze, and, to my surprise, I see that he’s staring at Yana. The sparkle in his hazel eyes tells me that she’s special to him. Or am I imagining things?
“Diego?”
He can’t hear me.
“Diego?”
He comes out of his spell and blinks. “Yeah?”
“Are you into her?” I ask, nodding toward Yana.
“She’s my ex-girlfriend.”
“Really?”
Diego furrows his brow at my expression. “Yes, why are you surprised?”
I shrug. “No reason.”
Diego narrows his eyes as if he doesn’t believe me.
“Why did you break up?”
He looks away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Of course, I understand. Let’s focus on the game.”
Our team scores and the awkwardness of the conversation is dispersed by the crowd’s euphoria.
Perla goes to get a drink after I assure her I’ll be okay, and Diego resumes his conversation with the girl on the other side of him.
Turns out I lied to Perla. I begin to feel overwhelmed and alone in the middle of the crowded stands. I look down and stare at my hands in my lap, noticing how thin my fingers are, how brittle my nails look. My body has mostly recovered from the chemotherapy, but there are still some parts that have yet to bounce back. I look up and see that it’s almost halftime, but something has changed in me. Seeing so many people, all focused on something I’m not a part of, causes my heart to race. I clench my fists and try to discern the shortest way down the bleachers and away from the field. It will take me a long time. I need to get out of here. I can’t breathe. I’m going to make a fool of myself in front of the whole school.
“I’m going… to the bathroom,” I say, short of breath.
I stand up and rush past Diego.
