Not Interested // R. Lewandowski

Robert Lewantraitor

"Hun, today you have to go to training." Papa says.

I barely stir in my bed. It's been a week since I 'joined Bayern'. All I've been doing is moping around, watching old re-runs, and avoiding any human contact I can.

"I know you don't want to. You gotta go though, Bello." He says, calling me an old nickname he used to call me when I was little. I grin at the old nickname.

I sigh. "Alright, I guess." I say. I can't mope any longer. Time to go join the trash squad.

I'm so going to call them that, if I even talk to them.

Papa smiles before leaving. If I'm going to be playing for that team, I need my own place to live. Don't get me wrong, I love it here, but I need my own apartment.

I get dressed in a pair of black compression shorts and a plain white t-shirt. I will undoubtedly have to change into their training kit, but I'm trying to avoid that.

I wave good bye to my Mama as I pass her in the kitchen. She gives me a kiss.

"Good luck, liebe." She says.

"Danke, I'm gonna need it." I reply.

I find Garb in my driveway so I get in. Without saying anything Garb drives away from the house.

I sigh, my head hitting the back of the seat. If I thought the press conference was the worst day of my life, I might be wrong.

Why Bayern?

Why him?

Garb pulls into the training grounds parking lot.

"See you after?" He asks.

"Mhmm," I reply. "If I'm still alive."

Garb laughs. The man gives me a reassuring hug.

I look at myself in the reflection of the glass one last time. You ready?

Opening the door, I notice that the sun's coming up. The morning mist is slowly fading, causing a little fogging. I wave my hand through the air.

When we were little, Ma-

Never mind.

Pep notices me walking towards the grounds and smiles.

"Ah yes! Bella Freud." Pep smiles. "Once again, I'm Pep Guardiola."

I nod. "I know who you are."

"Aren't you excited to be on my team?" He asks.

I shake my head no. No, I'm not.

"Well let's get you changed for the day." Peps says, ignoring my answer. Honestly, I would've ignored me as well.

To him, I'm acting weird. The girl that usually looks so confident and easygoing on the field is suddenly weird and passive. My happy and blissful personality on the field is suddenly depressed and tinged with anger. And it's all because of one man. One.

Thinking of the stupid guy makes me upset.

"Here you go. You can use this room to change." Pep says. He shows me to another plain empty locker room. Only one locker is full, and it's mine.

Pep leaves and suddenly I'm alone. I no longer have the comfort of my old team. Or my supporters. Or even my traitor coach who knew I'd rather lick all the chalk off a chalkboard than come here.

Suddenly, to him 75 million euros is enough to cause me pain. Emotionally speaking.

I peel off my shirt and replace it with the hideous red shirt. Somehow it fits me perfectly and I frown. This was probably specifically altered to my size, which means this whole transfer was well planned out.