Fall in San Diego

2. some escaped convict

"No I'm not!" I screamed from the top of the stairs.

"Yes, you are," David said in that extremely calm tone that drove me crazy. "You're going to get your grades up."

Anger welled up inside me but it all dissolved into tears. I gritted my teeth. I hated when my anger turned to tears.

"My grades are fine. The teachers say so. I even performed better than the entire team!"

"That's not enough. To study medicine, you need to perform so much better."

"I don't want to study medicine! I don't wanna be a doctor. I just want to play soccer," I managed.

"Soccer is not going to work out for you, Larry. I don't think you're good enough. We just want the best for you."

"You don't know shit about me!" I spat. "You don't know what's best for me so stop pretending like you fucking do!"

"Larry!" my foster mom called sharply. "Don't swear at your father!"

"He's not my father," I seethed through clenched teeth.

David took a deep breath and let it out, his dark eyes fixed on me.

"Larry, we're trying to help you. We know- I know I'm not your father. We're not your real family and you don't want us but we want you. And we want you to be happy. We just want to help. You can always play soccer as a hobby but pursuing medicine as a career is best for you."

I took a step down and a deep breath.

"I understand." My voice shook. "But I don't want to study medicine. I don't want to be a doctor or anything like that. I want to play soccer. I love soccer. If you want the best for me, then you'll let me do that."

David sighed.

"Okay, and how are you going to advance from where you are? Are you good enough to get into an academy?"

"I'll work hard for it."

He scoffed and my fists curled up into balls. I felt myself trembling as he shook his head.

"No. You stay in this house, you do what we say-"

"But that's not f-"

He raised a hand to silence me. "You make your grades better or you never play soccer again. I'm going to call your school today."

The scowl on my face deepened. I almost lost it, but all I said before I walked back to my room and slammed the door shut was, "Do whatever the fuck you want."

***

All the anger that built up dissolved into more tears once I got into the room. I sat on my bed and dragged my hand through my hair, pulling at it.

I sobbed and stared off into space. I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't.

Soccer was the only thing that made me happy. I've loved the sport ever since I was a kid. Ever since the game my dad took me to watch. I fell in love with the way the players controlled the ball skillfully, the way the ball rolled back and forth between them, the way it connected with the back of the net when a goal was scored.

It wasn't the most popular sport over here and people noticing my interest in the sport usually told me to go for football instead. But I knew what I wanted. And up till that moment, I never doubted it. I didn't care about what people thought or what they believed was the best for me. I wanted to play soccer.

The sad part of all this is that my family supported me. They always came to watch my games when I was a kid. I was sure my dad was planning to take me to join a local team so I could possibly get scouted for an academy. He believed I could become one of the greatest soccer players ever, even more than I did.