Call-Up #2
"Gio's here!"
One of the students spotted Yohan and shouted it across the classroom. In an instant, a cluster of boys came swarming over to his side.
Yohan, still rubbing the sleep from his bleary eyes as he walked in, nearly jumped out of his skin.
"W-what is it?"
"You're joining first-team training, right?"
"Uh...?"
How on earth did they already know? The news had only come out yesterday afternoon.
Flustered, Yohan sat down and listened to the explanation. As it turned out, the club had posted the announcement that he would be training with the first team, and some netizen had promptly shared it across the fan community, which was how the whole class found out.
"Did you hear? They said you're the first Roma player ever to join first-team training at your age! Youngest ever!"
Ciro was visibly buzzing, running his mouth a mile a minute. Yohan let out a short, incredulous laugh and shook his head.
"That's not true."
"It's not?"
"No. Amedeo Amadei was the youngest Roma player to train with the first team — and he even made his debut."
"Amedeo Amadei?"
"You don't know him? He played in the thirties and forties."
"Dude, I may be a Roma fan, but I don't keep tabs on guys from the forties. Still, you're the first in the twenty-first century, so that counts."
"Is that how it works?"
"Yeah. Anyway — when you debut, do they give you free tickets? I heard they hand out a few for family and friends. That right?"
"I have no idea. I'd have to ask. And I'm nowhere near debuting yet."
"Looking at you, you'll be out there in no time. I don't care about the other kids, but you better give me one."
"You're already losing it."
"You've been telling me not to talk club business, so I've been holding it in — but I can't take it anymore. The second you get tickets, you hand them over to me first."
Ciro's eyes were practically bloodshot as he pleaded for tickets. The look on his face said he might commit murder if he didn't get one. If the club really did provide tickets, Yohan figured he'd have to distribute them to his mothers, Aunt Carrie, and Haley first — and only pass one along if there was any left over.
He was about to answer that he'd give Ciro one if he could manage it, without making any firm promises, when —
"Move."
Haley, just arriving for school, shoved Ciro in the back with her bag as she passed near her seat. Ciro staggered sideways and threw up his hands in that classic Italian gesture of pure injustice.
"Why are you shoving people? Did I do something to you?"
"You were in my space."
"I wasn't even sitting down... And why shove me with a bag? Just use your hand..."
"I don't want to touch you. Ugh... disgusting."
"That's so messed up."
"Shut up. And what do you mean, 'hand them over'? Who said you could harass our turtle?"
"I wasn't harassing him. I just asked for a ticket..."
"Buy your own. Stop shaking people down."
"Then don't you go asking Gio for tickets either."
"I don't even know what tickets you're talking about, but I'm rich, so I'm fine."
"You're the worst."
"You wanna die? Stop being annoying first thing in the morning and get lost."
"Fine. It's not like I'm running from something scary — I'm running because it's filthy."
"One more word and I kill you."
"I'm going, I'm going."
Muttering under his breath, Ciro quietly reminded Yohan one more time, then slunk back to his own seat.
"What's with all the fuss?"
Haley practically threw her bag onto the desk and dropped into her chair. Yohan watched her pull out a wet wipe and scrub the front of the bag where Ciro had touched it, and he couldn't help a small, bemused smile.
"Just football talk."
"Going to a match?"
"Something like that."
"Elementary schoolers... Ugh. I want to go back to America."
She let her bag slide off the desk onto the floor and buried her face in her arms, grumbling. If you're going to do that, why bother wiping it? Yohan thought, then said,
"Aunt Carrie still won't give you permission?"
"Lately she seems a little more tempted."
"Really? You still don't like it here?"
"I never said I don't like it. I just like America better. It's my hometown, and the place we moved to is nice too."
Home was always the place you wanted to go back to. At least, that was how it was for Yohan. And it seemed to be the same for Haley.
If that was the case, he couldn't tell her not to go. He wasn't in any position to meddle in her life in the first place.
"I see."
"What are you gonna do when your big sister leaves? You gonna cry your eyes out?"
"I won't cry, but yeah — I'll definitely be sad."
"Last time you said you'd be fine on your own. Finally realizing how precious I am?"
"Hmm... I think so."
The answer must have pleased her. Haley flashed a grin full of white teeth, then clapped Yohan on the shoulder the way a guy who'd had a few too many drinks might try to play it cool.
"Hey, don't worry. I'll send you a plane ticket over break, and you can just fly out."
"I can buy my own plane ticket."
"That's not the point. I'm saying we can see each other whenever we want. Come over and play that nerd game you and Aiden like so much."
"You played it with us. So what, you're not one of us anymore?"
"You wanna die?"
"No."
"Then never bring that game up again. It's a stain on my life."
"We had fun together and now you're talking like that. I'm honestly a little hurt."
"You're dead."
"I'm just stating fa— Aaaahhh!!"
Yohan had been mid-shrug when he yelped. Haley had pinched the flesh on the underside of his arm — not with two fingers, but with her whole hand, so it hurt a little less than it might have, but it still hurt.
Wincing through every possible facial contortion, Yohan had to apologize several times before she finally let go.
"Morning, Flavio."
Flavio, standing guard at the entrance to the Primavera training ground, broke into a bright smile. The person climbing out of the club car was none other than Yohan.
"You're here. Did you eat breakfast?"
"Yes. Did you?"
"Yeah, I did."
As of today, Yohan was training with the first team. Still too young for a driver's license, he was commuting in a car the club sent for him.
The convent wasn't far, so they could have let him walk the way he always had — but his profile was rising fast, and there was a real chance that people who came to the first-team gate for autographs would start latching onto him as well.
Just yesterday, two or three people had already asked the gate security whether Yohan was coming. Some had even shown up at the Primavera entrance. Yohan had already been inside by then, so they hadn't gotten a signature, but fans were starting to appear.
Given Yohan's personality, he would try to give every single one of them fan service. If a crowd formed, he could end up late for training. Setting a fixed time would solve that — but the real worry was the dealers.
People who collected signed kits and flipped them on auction sites. The ones who'd come to the Primavera ground yesterday had been exactly that type: get a signature from a kid who looked like he had a future, sit on it, and once he blew up, sell it as a first-edition piece with a premium attached. The intent was written all over them.
They were the kind who would take advantage of Yohan's trusting nature, so the club had arranged for a dedicated car to bring him straight in through the Primavera entrance.
"Congratulations on making the first team."
Flavio held out a fist. Yohan bumped it with an easy smile.
"Thank you. Oh — and I saw on the news that Italy has a serious health problem these days because of all the sweet and salty food. You like sweets, Flavio, so maybe try cutting back a little?"
"I thought I'd get a free pass today, but no such luck. My wife says the same thing. Now you too?"
"I'm saying it because I worry."
"I know. I'll keep it under control, so don't worry about me. Starting tomorrow, the car will go all the way inside the grounds — get out after that."
"Why?"
"Dealers are targeting you."
"Dealers?"
"There are people like that. Just do what I say, all right?"
"What about saying hello?"
"You don't have to, kid. If it really bothers you, just wave from inside the car."
"Hmm..."
"We've known each other a long time. At this point, just catching each other's eye counts as a morning greeting."
"Hmm... okay."
"Good. Get going. Train hard."
"Yes."
Yohan stepped onto the training grounds and headed for the Primavera locker room to grab his gear — then remembered that the staff had already moved everything over, and walked straight toward the first-team building instead.
He changed into his kit with a heart full of anticipation, and was lacing up his boots with his head down when someone stopped in front of him.
"So you really made it up."
Yohan lifted his head — and his eyes went wide.
"...Lorenzo!"
Lorenzo Lucca was standing right there in front of him.
The Primavera and first-team buildings were the same, but the cafeteria and training pitches were completely separate. Because of that, Yohan had only seen Lorenzo a handful of times — and even then, only from a distance. This was the first time he'd been this close since that day.
"Good to see you. First time since then, isn't it?"
"No...! I've seen you from behind, from far away."
"That doesn't count as meeting."
"Sorry. But you remember me?"
"Of course. You were the first kid who ever looked me in the eye and said you'd win every competition there was. You've changed so much I almost didn't recognize you at first."
"I've grown a lot, right?"
"You have. That thing you said to me — still stands?"
"Yes."
"At Roma?"
"At Roma."
In the Primavera, Yohan had learned one important thing: you couldn't put players on pedestals.
In the past he would have been starstruck beyond words. But now, having come up through the Primavera and into the first team, he was a player just like them.
Lorenzo? He was genuinely happy to see him. He still looked up to him. But he no longer shrank back just because they were standing face to face as players.
That was the mindset Yohan carried now.
Seeing the fire in the boy's eyes, Lorenzo felt a deep, quiet satisfaction. He knew how much Yohan admired him, and he'd half-worried that their reunion would just be the same old delighted smile and a tail wagging with pure joy. That worry, it seemed, had been unnecessary.
"There's somewhere we need to go before training."
"Where?"
"We've got to take some shots."
"A profile? We already did that in the Primavera. Do I have to do it again?"
"Think of it as shooting things we'll need in the future, ahead of time. Come on."
"Yes, sir."
Yohan fell in behind Lorenzo, then tilted his head slightly.
Things?