Not Interested // R. Lewandowski

You're One Filthy Goat, Götze

"You look beautiful."

I jump in surprise as Mama comes into my room. The dress I'm wearing is a simple black dress that isn't too long, nor too short.

My hair is up in a sleek ponytail, and my heels are red pumps. I'm not sure if it's press conference appropriate, but I don't really care.

"Thanks, Mama. I needed that. I'm worried. I have no idea which team I'm signed to." I say.

Mama nods. She watches me in the mirror. "You're beautiful and you'll be great on any team they've transferred you to." She says.

I watch her as she clips my necklace around my neck. I like to think I got my looks from her. Her long thick dirty blonde hair, and her bright green eyes. My father has dark hair and blue eyes. I did get his sharp jaw line though.

"Are you coming?" I ask her.

She looks alarmed. "Was I invited?"

I smile. "Of course. Both you and Papa. We're leaving in a few."

Mama leaves to go get dressed quickly. I fix my hair one last time. I can do this. I don't need to be worried. Bayern doesn't have a women's team.

"Ready?" I ask Mama and Papa as I enter the living room. Both of them are dressed nicely and smiling. It's not often that they can be at these sort of events.

They both nod. I follow them out to their car and get in the back. I give them the directions to the venue from my phone. Calming music plays in the background.

Finally they pull up to the conference hall. They follow a nervous me inside the grand room. On the way in, we pass the paparazzi who didn't make it in with the sophisticated press.

"You guys can go sit in those seats." I say to them. I give each of them a kiss on the cheek and point them in the direction of the audience. The only other people in there are press with huge cameras.

I find the backstage and wait there. I'd been informed prior to the event where to stand and wait, but not the team I've been transferred to. Funny how that works. I'm barely listening to the introductions as I pace around the empty hallway.

"Please welcome Bella Freud!" I come out smiling despite the feeling that I might puke. I take my assigned seat at the long table.

"And please welcome her new coach, Pep Guardiola!"

I freeze. Pep Guardiola?

No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Is this some sort of nightmare? I pinch myself to see if this is just some sort of demented dream.

The bald man comes out from the opposite side of the stage. He smiles and shakes my hand. Then he sits next to me. The captain, Philipp follows behind him, Bastian Schweinsteiger just behind him.

Then Pep pulls out the last thing I want to see. A Bayern jersey. Something I am not interested in. At all.

On the back of the hideous thing is my last name. Freud covers the bottom of the back of the jersey. Just above it is the number 11.

"It's wonderful to meet you, Bella." Pep says. "We've had our eye on you for awhile now."

I laugh uncomfortably. I lean over and whisper in his ear. "Am I breaking a contract if I decline the transfer?"

Pep nods.

Shoot! "You too, I guess." I reply.

As the announcer dude asks for questions, I take a sip of my water. I find my parents in the crowd and I suddenly feel a thousand times better.

"Bella! How does it feel to be on the best Bundesliga team?" One reporter asks.

I think for a second. It feels terrible, and I feel rotten on the inside. "It feels weird." I admit, making sure not to give too much away.

"Pep! Why did you want a female on your top team? Why risk losing by paying 75 million euros for a transfer to get a girl?" One obnoxious reporter asks from the front row. 75 million? No wonder my team traded me over so easily.

Pep smiles. "Because Bella is an amazing player. I can't wait to get on the field at practice and see what she really has. I think she'll take our team farther than we've ever gone. I can't wait to work with her." He answers.

"Bella, what players are you most excited to play with?"

"None." I answer without thinking.

The room goes silent. "Why?" The same person asks.

"Because," I say, stalling. "Any other footballers can be as good as them. They might not be as well known, but there's always going to be someone better."

That oughta work.

"Why are you so wise for a 24 year old?" A petite woman asks quietly. "No matter what, you seem to calm anyone down and say just the right thing." Do I?

I shrug. "I guess I'm an old soul?"

The room laughs. It wasn't really meant to be funny, but reassures me that I'm saying the right things. One wrong answer and the press will be all over that.

The questions continue and I keep making up all the answers. I'm still numb from the surprise.

Bayern.

I want to cry. I'd rather play for VFB Stuttgart and that's saying a lot. Just the thought of wearing that terrible jersey makes me want to jump off a bridge.

Why does it have to be Bayern? Why not Dortmund Borussia or something? I'd love to chill with Marco Reus.

Once I've answered two hours worth of questions, Pep and I are ushered over to some Bayern trophies.

Pep puts arm around my shoulder and hands me half the jersey to hold up. I softly take the disgusting thing into my two fingers. I barely smile as the cameras take a billion pictures of Pep and 1 holding up the Freud jersey.

"Smile!"

My smile barely improves and probably becomes more of a grimace than a smile.

The cameras take pictures then the room starts to slowly clear out. I move away from Pep and back to my parents. I reach my mama and hug her. Papa joins in and puts his arms around us.

"I know, I know." Mama murmurs in my ear. "It's alright."

I nod into her shoulder.

That's when I spot the last person I wanted to see.

"Hey Bella."

I don't even look at him before replying. "You're One Filthy Goat, Götze." I say.

Then I turn and pull my parents out of there.

"That's not very wise." Someone unfamiliar jokes. I barely look at them, still pulling my parents out of there.

Today is officially the worst day ever.

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But is it really?

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