Lupe and Selina Play Through the Storm

“Cece Fuentes from Mexico, right?” Lupe examined Selina from head to toe. Was there anything that looked familiar? Was this really the young girl she once knew? “Welcome to the Long Beach Waves.”

“Thanks, Coach Lupe.” Selina’s voice was faint and tentative. Lupe did not answer but nodded toward Keri.

“Ah, Cece, freshmen players call her Coach Lopez. That’s kind of a rule.” Keri leaned toward Selina and spoke in a hushed tone.

“But I remember you. You look different now. Do you remember our girls’ team at Eastside Field in Santa Barbara? I was just a kid.” Selina took a step toward the center of the room.

“Maybe, but I am different now. I make it a rule that all my new players get the same treatment. Is that understood?” Lupe glanced first at Keri, then took a step toward Selina. “Isn’t that right, Keri?”

“Yeah, but I met your mom and everything. You knew my dad well. Remember?” Selina gave a nervous laugh.

Lupe had spent years forgetting Selina’s dad, Carlos Andrade, her first crush. His daughter was mistaken if she thought that memory would give her any advantage.

“That was a long time ago. You two better get to bed. Seven a.m. training starts tomorrow. You know the drill, Keri.” Lupe clutched her clipboard against her chest and felt her rapid heartbeat. She could see that the new girl was disappointed in her response. “Good night.”

If she had turned to leave a second sooner, she would have missed seeing the back of Selina’s jersey, the name Clemente draped over her narrow shoulders.

“That’s a mighty expensive nightshirt you have there.” Lupe pressed her lips together. Please, God, let this be a coincidence. I do not need a ghost haunting my life right now.