Secrets

Chapter 1

As I walk through the airport, my anxiety continues to reach new highs. I can't help the excitement build inside but also feeling the immense amount of pressure to perform well and make a good first impression. Continuing my walk through the airport, I find myself playing with my dirty blonde hair--a nervous tick I've picked up over the years. Along with my dark brown eyes darting between the signs in the unfamiliar airport. My normal tanned olive skin is turned white around the knuckles, as my grip on my suitcase tightens.

I'm only 17 and I'm already getting called up to the national team. I know I will most likely not get a permanent spot on the national team because that's how it is with most girls that get called up at my age. They come to a couple of camps, then they play for the U-17 and U-20 team, before ever getting a permanent spot on the senior roster in their 20s. But I have to start from somewhere, and now I get to meet some of the players I've looked up to since I was little.

It had taken a lot of convincing for my foster father, Robert, to let me come here, seeing as this January camp is in Portugal. I had to talk to my social worker, and have her convince him to let me go. This didn't come without its repercussions, seeing as Robert hates when I talk to my social worker without telling him. So he originally hated the idea, but when Jill assured him that it was all paid for, he couldn't get me to leave the house fast enough. This is probably because he can still collect the monthly check from the state and spend it on alcohol, and not have to deal with me for a couple of weeks. But I don't care about the reason, because I now get to play with some of the best players in the world.

I collect my large suitcase from baggage claim, easily identifying my beat-up brown suitcase. It's ancient because I've never really traveled before, and it was the only suitcase Robert would allow me to borrow.

Already knowing I'm the last one to arrive, I quickly make my way out to the pick-up area. Most of the girls arrived yesterday, allowing them to adjust to the time difference. But I didn't have that luxury, seeing as I have to miss a little school as possible. Jill was already worrying that I wouldn't have enough time to adjust, but I assured her I'm fine, knowing I can run off minimal hours of sleep.

I quickly spot a man holding a sign with the name Johnson and the US soccer logo on it, before walking over to him. "Cathryn Johnson?" the middle-aged man asks. I nod my head before he says with a smile, "Nice to meet you! I can take your bag."

He grabs my large suitcase and places it in the back of the black SUV, before opening my door. "Thank you, it's nice to meet you too," I say with a smile, before getting in the backseat.

The drive over to the hotel feels quick, as the man tells me how his daughter also plays soccer and hopes to play for Portugal when she's older. He shows me a video of her when we're stopped at a red light. She's the cutest five-year-old I think I've ever seen. She has light brown skin and the cutest curly light brown hair. The video shows her scoring a goal, before celebrating with the biggest smile. It's videos like these that make me want to have a kid and despise the fact that I'm only 17 years old. What can I say, I have terrible baby fever.

When I arrive at the hotel, the man, Rafael, gets my bags out of the back. I give him a quick thanks, before making my way into the lobby, knowing I'm already running a couple of minutes late to the team meeting. Jill had texted me not to worry, but that was like telling Einstein to not be smart, as my anxiety skyrockets. The text also told me to just go to the conference room first and after the meeting, I'll get my room assignment.

So that's what I do, luggage and all. I make my way up to the eighth floor, the level where the conference room and the team will be staying. I decide to leave my suitcase in the hall, as I hear voices coming from inside the room separated by a pair of double doors.