I scanned the printed list. “Yes,” I said, checking the photo of the nine-year-old and glancing up at her. “María Camila Vasquez. You look a little younger in the roster, but it has to be you.”
“Just María is okay,” she declared, her cheeks turning pink. “Nobody calls me María Camila anymore. Except for my dad maybe. And that’s only when he’s really angry at me because I sneaked out to play with Brandy instead of doing my chores. He doesn’t care that Brandy is lonely, and that’s why I sneak out to see her.” I opened my mouth but found I had nothing to say, which María took as an invitation to continue. “She kinda reminds me of Dad sometimes. I think they could be friends, but Dad is always so busy with the farm that he has no time to play with anyone. Not even me.” Something seemed to occur to her. “I could bring her over if you want to meet her.”
I blinked at her for a second. “Oh… Hmm. Is Brandy your friend?” I eyed the roster again. “I guess… I guess she could try out for the team if she wants, but I’d need to check the U10 guidelines to see how many players the team can have on the roster. How old is she?”
“About…” She stuck out her hands and counted on fingers. “Six…？”
“She might be too young to try.” I started shifting through the stack Josie had given me. “I must have the regulation somewhere. Hold on. Chelsea is seven, anyway. So maybe…”
“She’s big for her age, though. When you compare her to any of the other goats.”
My hands came to a halt. “Goats?”
“Brandy’s a goat.” María grinned. “She’s also blind. And suffers from anxiety.” A pause. “Hmm, maybe she’s five months old and not six. I’m not sure now.”
God. It took me a moment to gather myself because, how had I gotten here? To the point where I was telling a kid her anxious six-or five-month-old blind goat couldn’t apply to the soccer team?
I set down the stack of papers. “I think there’s no place for Brandy in the Green Warriors. Unfortunately.”
María nodded, nothing but understanding behind her eyes and that smile pointed at me. In silence. For a very long time.
I cleared my throat. “So… Did you want something?”
“Ah, yes.” Her expression brightened. “Everyone’s scared of you, so they sent me here as representative of the team.”
Shock and dread flashed through me.
Scared. The kids were scared of me. I pushed aside how that made me feel. “Well, that’s understandable. Not everyone likes strangers and that video wasn’t the best introduction.”
“I like you, though,” she countered. “I think you’re pretty and I love your clothes. And I don’t think you have a resting witch face, like the rest do.”
I started to scoff but covered it with a cough. “That’s very kind of you, thank you, María.”
“You’re welcome.” María nodded, her smile splitting even wider. “I also think that we don’t really need Mr. Camelback.”
That time I couldn’t muffle my reaction. I snorted. Mr. Camelback. “And why is that?”
“Because you should coach us. Just like I said yesterday. Have you thought about it?”
“Oh.” My shoulders tensed. “No, no. I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’ll look for a new coach, though.” Josie had said nobody was particularly excited about soccer but there had to be someone in this town who could coach a group of children. I’d do the rest. I’d start with the parents coming to pick up the girls later today. Some had given me a few skeptical glances at drop-off, when they’d discovered Cameron wasn’t around, but Josie had been here to appease them.
“I think it’s the best idea ever,” María insisted. “It won’t be hard for you. Chelsea and I googled you and you work for, like, a real team. Our last coach was Grandpa Moe, and I’m sure you’ll be much better at it than him. He’s fun, but one time he called a corner kick a touchdown when Juniper sent the ball off the field.”
I chewed on that information. No wonder Josie had been so keen on recruiting Cameron. “Is that what the team sent you to ask me?”
“Oh no, they sent me to talk to you about the plan to get Mr. Camomile back, but I think we should boycott the plan and do our own thing. We’ll be… a two-person team. Like Wednesday and Thing. Oh, can I be Wednesday?”