"Jordi, seriously? You took out the T-shirts I had packed and placed all these books inside. What are you even going to do with so many books there?"
Layla Lloret was glad she decided to check both the suitcases one last time.
"Mama, I can take the shirts with me when I come to visit. It's only a week."
Layla delivered her signature look that shut Jordi up. Even Ferran, who was just watching from the side, sat up straight. Both uncle and nephew were horrified by what usually followed that look. The suitcase was quickly repacked, this time with only a handful of books inside.
Uncle Ferran loaded the car, as Jordi hugged Aunt Ona and his mother. Unfortunately, his mother refused to let go for a long time.
"Jordi, if anything happens, you need to tell us, okay? You are still a child. We are here to stand up for you. You need to focus on your studies as well. It's a new school, so you need to work harder for a good grade. Also, don't become friends with bad…"
To Jordi's relief, his uncle interrupted, "Sister, he'll be late. Why don't you write him a long message instead?"
Layla glared at her stupid brother but reluctantly let go. She rushed into Aunt Ona's embrace and silently sobbed. As the car exited the street, Jordi looked back at the heaving shoulders of his mother. Mama, who had always been strong and infallible, seemed so tiny and weak. Only later in life, Jordi would understand his mother's state in those moments.
…
'On my way', Jordi texted Estel.
Estel had moved into the girls' dorms a week ago but had returned home over the weekend. She was coming back today, and Jordi prayed that her father was not accompanying her. Last week, he made an excuse and skipped training the day her father came to drop Estel off. Jordi did not understand the fear and hesitation he felt in meeting the man, but he could not shake it. Until he did, avoiding both parents felt like the best option.
"Oye, Reietó. What's on your mind?" Uncle Ferran broke Jordi out of his thoughts.
"Nothing."
"Hmm. I heard Luis Enrique really likes the Sevilla lad in training."
"Ivan Rakitic?"
"Yes. You watch all the matches. I've only seen him play when we played Sevilla. What do you think?"
"He's very good. Different from anyone we have in our midfield. Can score goals as well."
…
The superintendent, Señor Tito, led Uncle Ferran and Jordi up to the dorm room. The room was rectangular in shape. Immediately to the left of the entrance stood two separate wardrobe cabinets. Opposite the cabinets was the bathroom. The room went on straight ahead, two beds parallel to the wall on the right and two desks opposite each bed, on the left. Shelving separated the foot of one bed from the head of the other.
"Young man, your roommate will be here this week. You can choose whichever bed you want. Settle in, then come to me. I'll give you your schedule and a map to the dorms." Señor Tito spoke up in a gravelly tone before leaving for his station.
A few hours later, Jordi was settled in, and Ferran was ready to leave.
"Reietó, here. Keep some extra cash for emergencies. Your mother is too stingy. Your uncle has a good heart, no?"
Jordi rolled his eyes and walked out, "I don't need it. The money Mama gave is enough."
Ferran tucked 500 euros under his nephew's pillow and followed Jordi out.
...
The sunlight fell on Jordi's laptop screen, which streamed Barca's preseason friendly against Napoli. Propped on a stack of books was Jordi's phone, on which he watched Juventus's friendly against ISL All-Stars. Jordi had decided to watch the other games later. He was intrigued by Juventus's new manager, Allegri, after watching the previous friendly and was indeed enjoying their play.
As half time came and Jordi switched tabs to look up the scores for other games, the door opened with an abrupt bang. In walked a tall, wiry boy, about 13 or 14 years of age. He was pale-faced with large black eyes and a freckle-covered nose. His thin lips were curved into a curious smile, one shaped by habit rather than circumstance.
The boy perked up when he spotted Jordi. Leaving his suitcases outside the door, he shuffled over to Jordi's study.
"Hey man, what are you doing? You must be my roommate. Heh, this is going to be fun." The boy slapped Jordi on the shoulder, "I'm Sergi Gomez, I'm a striker!"
Sergi's hand rested on Jordi's shoulder as he spun around to take in their room. Jordi stood up to covertly slide free of Sergi's hand.
"I'm Jordi. I play in the midfield for Infantil A."
Sergi's head spun back, "I'll be joining Infantil A as well, my friend! This is perfect. You're going to give the assists, and I'll score goals."
Sergi's long arm somehow snaked around Jordi as he looked out the window, seemingly believing himself to be part of a profound moment.
"What a duo we'll make, brother. Haha." An off-putting cackle sounded from Sergi's mouth, which pushed Jordi to distance himself and change the topic.
Jordi thought back to his conversation with Señor Tito about choosing a backup profession to gear his studies towards. It was La Masia's core policy to always ensure a Plan B for every child. Most kids from the academy did not end up as footballers, and La Masia ensured that they were prepared for life outside of football.
"Have you chosen a backup profession yet? I mean, until 15, we do the normal school courses, so we have time–"
"No need to wait, brother. It is so stupid. I don't need a Plan B; I'm going to be the greatest striker ever!"
"So, you said no?"
"Hunh, of course not. That old man Tito is one scary dude. I just put in 'businessman'. That's what my father does, so how difficult could it be? Wait, maybe I could become both… You have a beautiful mind, my friend!"
Jordi did not know how to reply to his roommate's new idea. Weirdly, the only thought that rose to his mind was that Sergi and Uncle Ferran could be good friends.
Jordi sat back in his chair and thought about his own choice. He had dreamt of Puyol's career and understood better than Sergi the importance of a Plan B. It was a difficult future to confront, and he did not want to delve into it. However, he thought back to his family's life. If football did not happen, how could he ever help them? His mother deserved peace and a lot of rest. Even his aunt and uncle, he hoped to let them enjoy life without caring about him all the time.
Past the initial obstacle, Jordi could only think of one job that was even remotely tolerable: Señor Garcia's job. Having decided, Jordi quickly wrote in "Bookstore Keeper" on the form. Of course, Mama Lloret would have to weigh in on the choice.
Jordi then opened the WhatsApp group with his friends to see what they had decided on.
_________________________
Eric – Academy coach.
Balde – I'm going to be a great barber if this football thing doesn't work!!! I'll give you all a discount my brothers
Ansu – Soo confused
Ansu – I wrote Rapper on my form but Señor Tito threw it away
Ansu – He gave me a new form to write something else
Ansu – I don't get it…
_________________________
Jordi shrugged his shoulders. It was his fault that he expected an intellectual conversation.
Jordi looked up from his phone to see Sergi sprawled on his bed, sleeping like a dead man. After a deep sigh, he got up to retrieve his roommate's suitcases from outside the door. This is going to be an interesting year...