What Is Home?

Choosing Colleges

Chesca POV:

I was getting sick of waiting. It's been weeks since I've run away from home and I haven't heard any word from Michael Dean, the head coach of the University of Notre Dame's women's soccer team. The only school that I know of that Jamie and I both got D1 offers to. 

I bet that he's been trying to get in contact with me, but what he doesn't know is that I don't have my phone. My fucking mother does. The national commitment deadline is May 1st. Right now it's January 31st, 14 days before my birthday and 90 days, exactly 3 months until the national commitment deadline. 

Coach Dean gave me his personal phone number when he gave me my scholarship offer. The problem is that his personal number is saved in my phone. Once again the phone that my mother stole from me. So I've been calling the number on the schools website. AKA the number that goes to a desk phone that nobody ever answers. I've called about twenty times and I'm trying again right now. I will not stop until I hear back from the coach.

I sat on my bed anxiously as the phone rang and rang. Just a few more rings and the call would automatically go to voicemail. That wouldn't help me because the inbox is already full from all of my other voicemails I've left.

Please pick up.

I begged. 

"Hi this is Coach Michael Dean of Notre Dame women's soccer speaking. How may I help you?" A voice suddenly said. I quickly flew up into an upright position. I couldn't even believe that he had answered.

"Hi Coach! This is Francesca Bertucci." I replied.

"Oh Francesca! It's good to hear from you. You know I've been trying to get in contact with you a lot these past two months." He stated. I could hear the curiosity and disappointment in his voice over why I had not responded to him.

"Yes I am so sorry about that coach. I've had some family stuff going on and my phone broke so I'm back in Italy now." I stated.

"Oh." He whispered. "That explains all the international calls that have been leaving voicemails on my answering machine." He added with a quiet chuckle. 

"Yep that's all me." I chuckled back nervously.

"Well Francesca I'm going to have to give it to you straight. Your move back to Italy certainly complicates things. And the fact that we haven't been able to contact you in a few months has been severely concerning to us. We can't really trust that we'll be able to get ahold of you when we need too." He admitted.

"I'm so sorry coach." I mumbled. I couldn't tell him what was really going on. There was no way. I could hear him clear his throat on the other end before speaking again.

"We're holding an open tryout in a couple of weeks Francesca and I'm going to be honest, that open tryout is being held to potentially fill your spot." He admitted and my heart lurched into my throat. Of course I knew that my lack contact with them would leave them no choice but to try and fill my spot but it's one thing to know that something is going to happen, and it's another when you actually hear it.

"I understand coach." I whispered.

"However, if you can make it to this open tryout, I would be able to convince my assistant coaches as well as our athletic staff to reconsider upholding your scholarship offer." He explained. 

I thought about it for a second. I have saved up a lot of money working for Tito during my time in America but I don't think it's going to be enough. Especially since I need that money to move back to America for college. 

"I um... I don't have the money to afford a flight right now." I admitted sheepishly. "Is there anyway the school can fund to fly me out?" I asked hopefully.