Game On (14 page)

“You're right,” he said. “Just not today.” He handed the saleswoman the credit card. “Now, you've seen the movie—you have to go model the clothes, and I do the whole thumbs-up, thumbs-down thing.”

“You're insane,” she said.

“Less talkin', more thumbin'.”

Maya laughed. “Do you always win?”

“Always,” he said.

With that, Maya was led to the dressing room to try on the first of many outfits. She would walk out the door with most of them.

Travis and Maya sat with Diego at a private booth in the most expensive restaurant in Rio. Maya could see why the Academy was so interested in this kid. Besides the fact that he was legitimately a phenom on the soccer field, he was a phenom in the looks department as well. He had eyelashes for days, curly dark hair a girl could lose her fingers in, and teeth handcrafted by God to sell toothpaste. He also had an innate ability to make everyone he interacted with feel like they were the only person on earth. He was a star, and he was going to make someone a lot of money.

“Another drink for my friend here,” Travis said to the
waiter before turning his attention back to Diego. “Diego, listen. I get it. You have needs. Your family has needs. And these other academies aren't just throwing promises at you, they're also throwing cash. But those promises are empty, and that cash will eventually run out. Then where will your family be?”

Diego was listening, Maya could tell. But beyond that, she couldn't read him.

“You're worried about them,” Travis continued. “But you also have to worry about you. These other places can't give you what we can. Top-notch facilities, world-class coaches. At the Academy, you won't just have a field to run around on, you'll actually get better. You could become the best.”

Maya was impressed. If she played soccer, she'd sign up on the spot. Diego just leaned back.

“I've seen a lot of people from a lot of academies,” Diego said finally. “But you're the only one I've seen who's my age.” He said it almost conspiratorially. “Your father sent you for a reason.”

He was right. Until now, Maya hadn't even questioned why Nails would send a seventeen-year-old—even one as capable as Travis—to do a job so huge. Not only that but also send him alone. Travis was a tool to gain Diego's trust. Maya realized right then and there how smart Nails was. When Travis didn't flinch at Diego's observation, it was clear he was in on the plan. Which only made him that much more impressive. She felt like she was sitting at the big boys' table.

“My father wanted you to see a success story,” Travis said. “When I enter the NFL draft, I'll have a number one next
to my name, and you can be sure it's because I went to the Academy.”

Diego studied him. “I know the Academy is where I need to be,” he said. “You don't need to convince me of that.”

Travis smiled. “So … welcome to the Academy?”

Diego hesitated. There was something holding him back.

“What?” Travis said. “We love you, you love us. What's the problem? Is it girls you want? We've got plenty of those.”

Maya studied Diego. She recognized that look in his eyes. He was as uncomfortable in this extravagant restaurant as Maya was on her first date with Travis. The overwhelmed look behind his eyes matched every overwhelmed look Maya had had with Travis since, from their first date to the trip to Rio. Travis meant well, but his need to impress didn't factor in the emotions of others. It could wind up being a much bigger flaw for him than anything his hips weren't able to do.

“Diego,” Maya said, leaning in, “I get it. This dog and pony show, it's a little ridiculous.”

“Maya …,” Travis warned.

“Can't you see you're freaking him out?” Maya asked. “Diego, you're worried that he doesn't understand you. Well, you're right, he doesn't.”

“Diego, will you excuse us?” Travis started to stand, but Maya just put her hand on his, calming him down for a change.

“He doesn't understand you,” Maya said, staying on Diego. “But plenty of other kids at the Academy do. My best friend's entire family is hanging everything on her, on her going pro, making all this money and rescuing them from the shack they
live in. The pressure is insane. And she's not the only one there who feels it. But you'll feel it anywhere. At least at the Academy, you'll have people who can get you there. If you're willing to work for it.”

Diego just looked at her. Then he stood up, loosened his tie, and undid his top button, which was so tight around his neck it left a mark.

“Yeah, sorry, I need to get out of here,” Diego said. He turned to go, then turned back to Travis. “You can tell your father you did a good job.”

Travis perked up. “A good job or a great job?”

Diego just shook his head. “You'll do a great job when you get me signed by a killer team for a lot of zeroes. I need a month or so to tie things up here. See you soon.” Diego smiled, then walked out.

Maya smiled bigger. “You did it!”

“We did it,” Travis said, even more elated. “Maya, you don't even know how much that kid is worth. You were amazing.”

“
You
were amazing,” she said.

He just studied her. “I knew you were beautiful, I knew you were nice, but … we actually make a great team.”

As much as Diego's words meant to Travis, Travis's words meant that much and more to Maya. A team, he'd said. It sent a surge up her spine.

“We should probably get going, too,” he said. “Little bit of a ride back.”

She didn't want this day to end. But it had to eventually.

“Maybe we could samba on the plane?” he asked.

Maya smiled. “I'd like that.”

They flew back to the Academy, sleeping away the overnight flight. Maya didn't dream. She didn't have to.

Maya sat in class while her teacher Mr. Manjarrez droned on. He was a humorless man with a face that looked like he'd just sucked on an under-ripe grapefruit. As he filled the room with white noise, Maya caught a pair of eyes dart back in her direction. She felt another from the far side of the room. What was going on beside her that was so interesting? She looked over and made a shocking realization:
All these eyes were stealing glimpses of her.
It was the absolute strangest sensation, one she didn't know what to do with at all.

“Have you heard from him?” Cleo asked, leaning forward from the desk behind her.

Maya tried to shake off all the attention. “He sent me this,” she whispered, then sneaked her phone behind her back to reveal a text from Travis. It was a smiley face.

“Watch your back, Shakespeare,” Cleo cracked. Maya snatched it back. Cleo didn't deserve to see his text.

“Ladies,” Mr. Manjarrez said, “if you can tell me how many pages this paper has to be, I'll give you an A on it right here and now.”

“Paper?” Maya asked.

“Ten pages!” Cleo guessed desperately.

“Twelve,” he said, self-satisfied. “On the Bay of Pigs. Which I just explained was an invasion of …? Another chance, B-plus …?” They stared at him blankly. “Wonderful. Good luck to you both.”

Just then, the intercom chimed. “Maya Hart to Mr. Reed's office, please.”

Maya looked to Cleo, panicked.

“What did you do?” Cleo asked, hushed.

Maya had no idea. But the woman's voice was not friendly. Maya gathered her things slowly, delaying the inevitable. Finally, after a look of encouragement from Cleo that even Cleo didn't seem to believe, Maya went on her way.

Maya was seated in Nails's office. She didn't know if this was better or worse than her last visit, when she never made it past the doorway. The office was a museum to all his accomplishments on the field, the prized items being the three Super Bowl rings encased on the wall, each hanging over an MVP trophy. Gracing the other walls were photos of Nails with celebrities and politicians, including four with US presidents and one with the Dalai Lama. They were all gawking at Nails, not the other way around. But he would be intimidating even with the walls bare. That power was something he carried with him wherever he went. And right now, facing him, she
was scared witless. She'd had a lovely dinner with him in his home mere days ago, and by the look on his face, you'd never know it.

“Maya, I can't be delicate about this,” Nails said finally. “You're here because of a photograph. A revealing photograph that was posted online.”

Maya went ashen. She thought that photo of Nicole had been forgotten. Obviously Nicole had told him about it. She'd told him Maya took that picture of her in the shower, that it was her who'd posted it. Last time was a warning; this time she was done.

“I didn't know that was going to happen,” Maya said. “I swear. I would've done anything to take it offline, but it's the Internet. Once it's up there …”

“That's all well and good,” Nails said. “But what's done is done. There are rules here, and those rules were broken.”

“So … that's it?” Maya asked. “You're kicking me out?”

Nails was confused. “Why would I kick you out for something she did?” he asked.

“Something she …?” Now Maya was confused.

Oh God, Maya thought. He was kicking Cleo out. She couldn't let him do it. She wouldn't. If that meant sacrificing herself, that's what she would do.

“I can't let you do that,” she said.

“You don't have a choice,” he said. “It was Christine who'd put this picture of herself online,” he said, turning his laptop so she could see. “She's got to face the consequences.” Maya recognized the girl on the screen. She'd seen photos of her in the
girl's bedroom. It was Nicole and Renee's forever-absent third roommate. And when it came to the photo,
revealing
was a gross understatement. “I hope it was worth the attention she got, because she's gone.”

It took a minute for Maya's heart to slow down. Cleo wasn't in trouble. Neither was she. But then, she thought, why was she here? In his office? And in the middle of class, no less?

“What this means,” Nails said, “is that there's a vacancy in the villa. It's a vacancy I thought you could fill.”

She couldn't have heard that right. “Me? I can't afford the villa. I can't even afford the parking space for the villa.” This wasn't news. So why was Nails even suggesting it?

“Consider it our investment in you,” he said. “I've also removed your six-month probationary period. You're here to stay.”

She was having a stroke. That would explain it.

“What,” he said. “No response?” For the first time, he looked like the guy she'd had dinner with.

“No, I'm … I don't know how to describe it,” she stammered. “Staying is all I want, but … Why are you doing this? Is it because of Travis? Because I've been hanging out with him?”

“I don't do anything for personal reasons, Maya. And neither should you.” With that, he took out a box cutter and opened a cardboard box on his desk. Inside were hundreds of freshly printed books with the Academy logo on them. He took one out and slid it to her. It was the new welcome packet.
On the cover was a gorgeous girl Maya didn't recognize. Until she looked closer.

“Is that … me?” Maya asked. It was from the impromptu photo shoot she had done with that Academy photographer outside the courts. She didn't know what that guy did to create the girl she was looking at, but she was stunning.

“It is,” he said. “Results are important to a career, Maya, but image can be just as powerful. This girl here is beautiful to guys without being threatening to girls. She's sweet but strong. She's aspirational. Aspirational sells. I'm offering you a spot in the villa partly to say thanks.”

“ ‘Partly'?” Maya asked, still processing it all.

“Mostly,” he said. “Because I like what I've been seeing of you lately.”

Since she didn't remember seeing him at any of her practices, she wondered whom he was liking: the girl on the court or the girl off of it? She didn't ask, mostly because, deep down, she was afraid of what the answer might be.

“Thank you,” she said.

With that, Maya left before he could change his mind.

Maya made her way back to Watson in a daze. As she walked up the stairs and unlocked her door, she barely noticed the blond who was on her way out. They exchanged polite smiles before Maya was inside, falling face-first onto Cleo's bed.

“Who was that?” Maya said, suddenly catching up with time.

“Who?” Cleo asked, engrossed in her laptop.

“That girl?” Maya said. “The one who just walked out of this room?”

Cleo hesitated, then answered. “Svetlana.”

Maya sat up. “Like, Svetlana Svetlana? Svetlana-the-girl-you-kissed Svetlana?”

“Svetlana,” Cleo said. “What happened when you were called down to the office?”

“Cleo!” Maya was on her feet, giddy. Way giddier than Cleo was. “She's so pretty.”

“Is she?” Cleo asked. “We were just studying together.”

Maya quickly looked over Cleo's shoulder. The laptop Cleo was so engrossed in wasn't even turned on. “Cleo.”

“Okay, I heard you fumbling with your keys and I rushed her out. I'm just hanging out with her, like you said to. Seeing how I feel.”

Maya sat back down. “So? How do you feel? Is Svetlana a good friend or, like, a
good
friend?”

“Well,” Cleo said, “she's cute. Kind of funny. I just don't know.”

“Did you kiss her again?” Maya asked. She couldn't be more in Cleo's business if she tried, and she didn't care.

“I was too chicken,” Cleo said. “Which pisses me off because the one thing I'm not is chicken. The closer I get to this, the less I recognize myself.”