‘I’ll be back for dinner,’ Paolo called to his parents as he opened the door. ‘I’ve got to go. My friends are waiting.’
Hearing his brother’s voice, Luis leapt off his bed and raced into the hallway. ‘Wait! Are you going to the football pitches? Can I come with you?’
Paolo turned and looked at his little brother. He had excitement all over his face. Luis always wanted to play football with the older boys but every time he was told he was too young. Today, Paolo was feeling generous.
‘Okay, but don’t say anything silly in front of my friends. And you’ll have to be careful. The other boys are all ten or eleven. Don’t get hurt.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Luis replied, with a toothy grin. ‘I can look after myself.’
Paolo couldn’t help but laugh. His little brother couldn’t even tie his own shoelaces but he was fearless.
The Suárez family lived just outside the army base, where Luis’s father, Rodolfo, was a soldier. Ever since they had moved in, Luis had heard the stories about the pitches on the base and the endless football matches after school each day. Finally, he would get to see it for himself. He ran to the door before Paolo could change his mind.
The base was even bigger and better than he had pictured. As they turned a corner, past a large ‘Military zone, No entry’ sign, four football pitches magically appeared. Boys and girls were running around on all of them. Like Luis, most of them were barefoot, chasing balls that looked like they were one bad bounce away from being useless.
Paolo found his friends and, with a little embarrassment, explained that little Luis was here to play as well.
‘He’s three years old,’ one of the boys sneered. ‘Can he even run?’
‘I’m four,’ Luis fired back. ‘And I’m fast.’ That made the whole group laugh.
They picked teams. Luis was just told to join Paolo’s team. ‘Stay out of trouble,’ Paolo warned, pointing for Luis to stay out on the far side of the pitch, away from the action.
‘No chance,’ Luis mumbled to himself. He had waited long enough for this moment. He wanted an up-close view.
At first, he was too busy watching everything – how fast the older boys could run, how hard they kicked the ball, how small he felt on such a big pitch.
Suddenly, the ball was coming towards him, with three boys sprinting after it. For a second, Luis wanted to run away. But he didn’t. He stuck out his foot to stop the ball and then, without looking, kicked it as hard as he could. Luckily, it went straight to Paolo. ‘Nice one,’ shouted Pedro, one of the best players in the group. Luis felt ten feet tall.
For what felt like ten minutes, Luis didn’t move. He was still enjoying the rush of excitement – and his foot hurt.
That night, he refused to go to bed. His mother, Sandra, saw him sitting on the sofa well past his bedtime. ‘Luis, you should be asleep, you little rascal,’ she told him.
‘I know, but I played football with Paolo and the big boys today and I don’t want the day to be over.’
Sandra smiled. ‘But you can go back tomorrow and play again, like your brothers do.’
‘Promise?’
‘Yes, Luis,’ she said gently. She lifted him off the sofa and carried him to the room he shared with his younger brother, Diego. ‘You’re getting heavy!’
‘That’s good,’ he said, smiling. ‘I need to be bigger to win against the older boys.’
Football at the base became part of Luis’s routine. As soon as school was over, it was a race against time to get to the pitches and claim one before the other groups got there. Luis’s classes finished earlier than those held at the other boys’ schools, so he had a head start most days.
On the rare occasions when the weather made it impossible to play outside, Luis and his brothers quickly turned to Plan B – playing in the house. Sandra and Rodolfo gave the boys this freedom, until Luis accidentally put an end to that by breaking his parents’ bed.
He would never forget his mum’s reaction.
‘Boys, get in here!’
‘What’s wrong, Mama?’ Luis tried to look innocent but he knew what was coming.
‘How did this happen? There’s a crack and the bed is broken. It wasn’t like that this morning, and I can see dirty footprints. It doesn’t take a genius to know you were playing football in here.’
Luis looked at the floor – partly because he felt guilty, and partly to look for the footprints that had given them away. He said nothing, and was relieved that his brothers didn’t put all the blame on him. After all, it was Paolo who had hit the wild shot. Luis was just diving to stop the ball breaking other things in the room.
Sandra shook her head. ‘Well, if no-one wants to answer, you’re all banned from going to the pitches for a week.’
The words hung in the air. Luis wanted to protest but he knew from past experience that his mother’s decisions on these kinds of things were final. Sandra waved them out of her room, reminding herself that her daughters were far less trouble.
‘Thanks for not pointing the finger at me,’ he whispered as they headed outside.
‘Well, we’ve got to stick together, but now we’re all in trouble,’ Paolo replied.
Luis went back to his bedroom and sat on his bed. It was going to be a long week.