Carson Messi

• Prologue •

"I'll see you in a few months! Be good Carson." Uncle Leo says with his Argentinian accent as he gives me a hug before he shoos me off to go catch my plane. You might know Uncle Leo. Does Lionel Messi ring any bells? Yeah my uncle is Lionel Messi. Soccer star from FC Barcelona and the Argentina team.

With one last hug I grab my suitcase and head through the Spanish security to get on my plane. I spent the summer with Uncle Leo in Spain and got to watch the practices and even participate in the majority of the practices. Let's just say I had more than a few ice baths after being the goalie.

Goalie is the position I play. I seem to have a sixth sense or something that basically makes me able to guess which way the ball is headed towards the goal. I've never let a goal go past me. Ever. Even against the Barcelona team of the best players. I can just see the minuscule twitches the players show that tell me which way they are going to kick the soccer ball. It's crazy, but that's the only reason I'm allowed to practice with them. It's because I'm capable of it. (Let's just say I formed bruise covered skin over the summer).

The only reason I got to spend the summer in Spain was because my dad is making us move again so he can coach the college team at UCLA who is currently ranked number one in college soccer. We are going to live a little further out though in a smaller town where apparently soccer is all they care about. It sounds good to me because soccer is basically the only thing I care about.

I climb the stairs to get into the plane. I walk along the aisles until I get to my seat, catching the eyes of people as I walk past them. For some reason people always watch me. Their eyes follow me as I walk continue to walk down the aisle until I reach my seat where I slide into the window seat.

With one last sigh I slide my red Beats headphones on and turn on my iPod. Luckily your allowed to have electronics on if they're on airplane mode. I look at the airport. I'm really gonna miss Spain. I managed to pick up a weird accent. It's not really noticeable except for when I yell, make orders, or get mad. Dani Alves actually noticed first. Apparently it's a mixture accent of Portuguese and Spanish from hanging out with the players and being in Spain. It's weird but kind of awesome.

I turn to look next to me when an arm touches me. A teenage boy maybe slightly older than me sat next to me. I slide off my headphones to talk to him as the plane takes off.

"Hola." He grins. His naturally Spanish and playful brown eyes twinkle as his eyes meet my light blue eyes. I've gotten a lot of compliments on my eyes because they are one of my best features.

"Hola." I answer back. I move around thanks to my dad being a really good coach so I picked up a few languages. My first language is English because I grew up in America and my mom is American. I can fluently speak Portuguese because dad and Uncle Leo are from Argentina. I can also speak fluent Spanish. I can only speak a tiny amount of Italian though. I need to work on it.

The boy sitting next to me is attractive. He has the Spanish look. Naturally tan skin and quite muscular. Not like super muscular but enough to look good on the beach.

After exchanging a few kind words in Spanish I put my headphones back on and fall asleep, ready to get this 12 hour plane ride to Los Angeles over with.