Chapter Two

~Luciana~

Just like according to plan, she made arrangements to tour Camp Nou, and was also advised to visit the Ciutat Esportiva Joan Gamper, otherwise known as the training grounds for FC Barcelona. She had just set down her things before going out to explore. She could unpack later.

Looking at the large stadium was jarring. She had only been to hockey games in Canada, and no arena was that large in the country.

She went on the tour of the stadium, in awe of how many titles had been won in the past. There was also a fierce rivalry with the Spanish team Real Madrid, with whom they competed to be top team with in La Liga BBVA. She listened to the guide ramble on in Spanish, paying close attention. She didn't know much about soccer - football - but she had always gathered that it was similar to hockey, and she'd probably enjoy it. As the guide explained what Blaugrana meant, she vowed to see at least one game in her time there, just to get a taste for football, if nothing else. It seemed like a great way to do it.

After the tour, she headed over to the training grounds to observe an open practice.

There was much talk about the new manager that had been brought up from the second team, Josep Guardiola, a former player of FC Barcelona himself. The man in question was on the field with the players, all of whom were in their training uniforms. She didn't particularly know anyone that well, only that it was the afternoon practice, and not all of the players were attending.

She listened into conversations around her, and learned among the absent were people named Xavi, Iniesta, and Puyol.

There were also much talk about the newest players: Ibrahimovic from Sweden and Daniel Alves from Brazil. There was also much complaining about the famous Ronaldinho being traded to Milan. She didn't really understand much of it, and eventually just focused on the drills being run on the field.

She was quickly mesmerized by the rapid passing that was being practiced. All she could hear was the constant tac tac tac of ball meeting boot before it met another. The turf was fairly well torn up from the cleats, but it didn't slow down the progression of the ball as it rolled across the surface, bobbing up and down along the clumps of soil that had been raised.

She sighed as her phone vibrated, signaling a new text. Unwillingly she pulled her eyes from the field, and looked down to see who'd contacted her.

As she waited for her messages to open, she heard shouts.

Frowning, she looked up just in time to see a football, and then all went black.

~Xavi~

Aina was one of the most peculiar women he’d ever met. She finally admitted she knew who he was, though it took some amount of prodding to get it out, but she was obviously not just fanning over him.

In fact, she seemed perfectly happy to ignore the fact that he was a famous professional footballer, and talk to him like any other person on the street. He couldn’t help but ask if she was a fan of FC Barcelona, and received a very wry smile. “A huge fan,” she admitted, “and one of the reasons I moved here. I have an EU passport, so I could be wherever, and Andreu has one too. But I came here, and fell in love with it.”

“Why?” he asked curiously.

“Well, I wanted to be in Spain, as it is my heritage. Plus the weather is better than England’s. When I came, the only commonality was the language I spoke. That is, until I arrived in Barcelona. I knew no one, since my mom’s family had either moved or wanted nothing to do with us, but the club united us. If nothing else I could find another football fan, and I could connect.

It was how I got through the first year without giving into loneliness or depression. It means the world to me, in all honesty,” she explained.

As her words sunk in, stirring something deep within him, she turned to her brother to wipe his mouth as he ate his food rather messily.

“Does Andreu watch football too?” he asked her as the boy started digging in again once she’d finished.

She nodded, smiling over at him. “Andreu, tell Xavi who your favorite player is,” she encouraged. The little boy beamed up, “My favorite is Puyol!”

She smiled fondly at him as he resumed eating once more. “And what about you?” he asked her. She tapped her chin in mock thought, “Well, Messi is pretty good. I’ve always admired Puyol as well. Oh, and I can’t forget Iniesta…” she listed off. Her gaze flickered over, and a teasing smile appeared. “And then there’s that midfielder that’s pretty good…” He chuckled at her noncommittal answer.

They finished lunch, and Aina turned to him, holding Andreu’s smaller hand in her own.

“It was nice meeting you, and thank you for lunch,” she said, smiling at him. The little boy waved at him happily, and the pair was walking away before he had gathered the nerve to ask if he could see her again. He started off after them, not daring to shout in fear he attract too much attention to himself.

Finally Aina navigated herself and Andreu onto a less crowded street, and he saw that it was running behind Camp Nou, near where he’d come out that very morning. The feeling of coincidence weighed heavy on his mind, but a large part of him felt that it was more akin to fate.

She slowed down, gaze focused on the large stadium.

Andreu came to a complete stop, pointing at it excitedly. As the pair was gazing at the stadium, a man came rushing down the street, and plowed right into the pair. Both fell over as the man dropped his briefcase, which burst open and papers spilled everywhere. “I’m so sorry,” the female said, trying to shake off the pain of the fall. Her gaze swiveled to Andreu, and saw that he was alright.

“Watch your kid, lady,” the man spat as he collected his papers. “Sorry,” she said again, that time in Spanish. She then saw that her brother had started to cry from a scraped knee.

“Shut up!” the man said, kicking at the little boy. “No!” Aina exclaimed, lunging forward. She caught the kick in the stomach, and doubled over. Xavi had been running forward, and finally got there. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. The man spun around, eyes bulging in recognition.

“Leave now or I’m calling the police,” he growled.

The man sped off, and he immediately looked at the pair. “Are you alright?” he asked Aina, who was gasping for air. She nodded, rolling over, and pushing herself up.

“Andreu…” she gasped out, and he nodded, heading over to the little boy, who was still crying. “Is it your knee?” he asked him, and he nodded tearfully. Xavi sighed, and then scooped the boy up into his arms, and turned to the female. “There is medical staff in the stadium I can take you guys to,” he offered. The female managed to get to her feet, looking awfully unstable, but shook her head.

“That’s too much,” she replied, shaking her head. He shook his head, “I insist.”

He shifted Andreu, who’d stopped crying, to one arm. He immediately snuggled into his shoulder, clutching onto his shirt. He then used his free hand to guide her toward the stadium. Her one arm was wrapped around her stomach, rubbing it soothingly.
Once inside, Aina became timid, and shuffled along slowly, his hand the only force keeping her going.

At last he found one of the physicians, Antoni, and flagged him down. “Hey, Antoni, can you help me?” he asked. The man turned, and his eyes widened upon seeing the pair. “Of course…right this way,” he agreed.

“Can you look at Andreu first?” Aina asked, gesturing to her brother, who was still latched onto Xavi. “Certainly,” Antoni smiled, and gently pried him away. “Oh, that scrape needs a Band-Aid,” he said playfully, which perked Andreu up enough to smile shyly. Once that was disinfected and cleaned, and asked in anything else hurt. Once done, he gestured for the female to come.

She had a small bump on the head, but what really hurt was being kicked in the stomach. He checked her over carefully, Xavi immediately looking away once her shirt was lifted, until he gave her some pain medication and told her to put some heat on it.

“Thank you,” Aina said as they parted way. “Let me walk you back so I know you get there safely,” Xavi said, concerned, especially since she was injured.

She agreed, more for Andreu’s sake than her own, since he’d resumed carrying the young boy.

She weaved through the streets until she arrived at an older
apartment building. “Thank you so much,” she said again, smiling softly at him. Andreu sleepily echoed the words as Xavi passed him off to Aina, who carefully gathered him in her arms. She shyly smiled one last time, before opening the door.

“I’ll see you around?” he asked, disgusted at how desperate he sounded. She nodded shyly, then disappeared.

~Dani~

Shit, shit, shit, shit!

He hadn't even been training with the team for a month and he'd managed to nail the ball right into a woman in the stands. He jogged over to the gate, and easily hopped over. One of the medical staff followed him, not having the same athleticism, having to pull himself over the gate instead.

The crowd parted for the former Sevilla player, allowing him to crouch in front of the unconscious woman. To his relief, she was already stirring, her eyes fluttering open.

He was momentarily stunning by the shade of green that was revealed as her eyes at last slipped open.

"I am so sorry, miss," he said, hoping she understood Spanish. He was relieved to see the comprehension in her eyes. "No, I wasn't looking..." she said, trying to sit up. "Easy there, miss," the medical technician said, helping her ease up slowly. The woman winced, her hand cradling her forehead.

"Still, I feel bad," Dani continued, ignoring her dismissal.

"Really, it's fine - most women dream of being knocked up by a professional footballer, but now I can brag about being knocked out,"she said in response. Unable to help himself, he laughed. Despite a solid knock to her head, it seemed her humor had remained intact.

The medical staff worker decided she didn't have a concussion, and would be fine, giving her an ice-pack for swelling.

"Let me make it up to you," Dani said. She sighed, "Will it make you stop apologizing?" He gave her a wry smile and a nod. "Then sure," she agreed. "Great! How about tickets to the next game at Camp Nou?" Her jaw dropped.

He knew he'd suggested the right thing.

~Aina~

The English school she taught at was one of the best in Barcelona. It was comprised of professors from the university, and teachers like her as well.

She taught adults who had no knowledge of English whatsoever, and taught them through to competency. Her classes were on a year long cycle. Then they could use what English they learned, or go to a more advanced class.

She yawned as she walked out of the classroom, heading toward the school that Andreu attended.

He immediately ran to her upon spotting her, backpack already in his possession. She carefully hoisted him up, mindful of her still sore stomach, and signed him out before heading home. The walk was relaxing as her brother told her about his day, describing in detail the painting he'd done, though evidence was on his shirt in splotches of greens and purples.

Once at her apartment building she headed in, and up the stairs, first checking her mailbox for any new mail.

With the bills and other random envelopes in hand, she headed up the stairs, as the elevator was unreliable, and to her floor. Luckily she was only on the third, making it possible to take such a route.

Turning onto her hall, she started down. She was on the end of the hall, in the smallest apartment on the floor, which was what was allowed in her budget. She turned the corner, and frowned as she spotted something outside her door. Upon getting closer, she saw it was a vase filled with flowers - white lilies, partially bloomed. They were beautiful.

Attached to the face was an envelope. She set Andreu down, and picked up the flowers before unlocking the door.

"Who are they from, Mamá?" the little boy asked in wonder. She smiled, "I don't know sweetie. Let's go inside and find out." He nodded, and scurried in, plopping himself on the sofa after putting his backpack in his room. He then looked at her expectantly. She laughed, and opened the card.

Querida Aina,

I hope you are feeling better today, and that you are healing nicely. I wish the same for Andreu's knee. As a get well soon gift, please accept these tickets to Camp Nou, one for each of you. I sincerely hope you come to enjoy the game.

Hasta luego,
Xavi

"Who is it from?" Andreu repeated excitedly. "Xavi, neno. We're going to go see a game at Camp Nou!" As she fingered the tickets, the little boy cheered happily, running to his room to make sure is Puyol kit was still in perfect condition for the game.

Aina was sure she could never thank Xavi enough. She peered at the tickets, and nearly balked at the seats. Midfield, center, low seating. She'd only ever been in the nosebleeds.

She carefully returned the tickets to the envelope, and then placed the face on the counter, and watering them.

"Mamá, can I wear my jersey?" Andreu asked, the item in hand. "Then game isn't for a few days yet," she laughed, ruffling his hair. He pouted, but nodded, going to return the article to his closet. Laughing, she grabbed her laptop, needing to get papers graded before the next class.