RAINA

Chapter 1: The Girl Who Couldn't Dream (Part 3)

The next morning, Ibrahim was already waiting for me beneath the baobab tree.

He was juggling the old football with his knees when I arrived.

"You were late," he teased.

I laughed. "By one minute."

"One minute can lose a match."

I rolled my eyes. "Who says that?"

"My brother."

"He sounds very serious."

"He is."

We both laughed before beginning our practice.

Ibrahim wasn't gentle with me.

If I made a bad pass, he made me do it again.

If I stopped running, he told me to keep going.

"No one is going to pity you on the field," he would say. "So don't pity yourself."

At first, I hated hearing those words.

But after a while, I realized he wasn't trying to discourage me.

He was preparing me.

The world would never make football easy for a girl like me.

So every sunrise became another battle.

Weeks passed.

The old football became my greatest treasure.

Its stitches were coming loose, and the air leaked out a little more each day, but I loved it anyway.

Whenever I finished my chores, I rushed behind the house just to touch it.

Sometimes I cleaned it with an old cloth until it looked almost new.

Mother noticed.

"What keeps you smiling these days?" she asked one evening.

"Nothing."

She narrowed her eyes.

"You've been disappearing every morning."

"I wake up early to think."

"Think?"

"Yes."

She shook her head.

"Girls who think too much usually bring trouble."

Her words stung.

But I forced a smile and continued washing the plates.

Inside, I whispered to myself,

"Then I'll be the biggest trouble this village has ever seen."

A few days later, Ibrahim brought exciting news.

"There'll be a football match in the next village this Saturday."

My eyes lit up.

"Really?"

He nodded.

"The best youth players are coming."

"I wish I could watch."

He hesitated.

"Then... come."

I stared at him.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"My father would never allow it."

He looked down.

"I know."

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then an idea came to him.

"What if you wear my extra cap and one of my oversized shirts?"

I blinked.

"You mean... pretend to be a boy?"

He smiled.

"No one would notice."

My heart raced.

It sounded impossible.

It also sounded exciting.

"I'll think about it."

Saturday arrived.

I finished my chores earlier than usual.

Father had traveled to a neighboring town for business.

Mother was busy preparing food for visitors.

Grandmother quietly walked into my room carrying an old brown cap.

"Ibrahim came earlier," she whispered.

"He left this."

I looked at the cap.

"You knew?"

She smiled.

"I know more than you think."

I hugged her tightly.

"What if someone recognizes me?"

She gently held my shoulders.

"Fear keeps people alive."

She paused.

"But sometimes...

...courage is what helps them truly live."

I swallowed hard.

Then I changed into the oversized shirt and wrapped my hair tightly beneath the cap.

When I looked into a cracked mirror...

I barely recognized myself.

The football field in the next village was much larger than ours.

Hundreds of people surrounded it.

Some sat on wooden benches.

Others stood beneath trees.

Children climbed fences just to get a better view.

I'd never seen so many people gathered for a match.

The excitement buzzed through the air.

The referee blew his whistle.

The game began.

I couldn't take my eyes off the players.

Their speed.

Their teamwork.

Their confidence.

Every movement fascinated me.

One player dribbled past three defenders before scoring.

The crowd erupted.

I clapped so hard my hands hurt.

One day...

I wanted people to cheer for me like that.

As we were leaving after the match, an elderly man stopped us.

"You two."

We froze.

He wore a faded tracksuit and carried a whistle around his neck.

"You've been watching very carefully."

Ibrahim nodded respectfully.

"Yes, sir."

The man looked at me.

"And what about you?"

I lowered my voice, trying to sound like a boy.

"I like football."

He smiled.

"Good."

Then he tossed a football toward me without warning.

Instinct took over.

I trapped it perfectly with my right foot.

The ball didn't bounce away.

It stayed glued to my feet.

The coach's eyebrows rose.

"Interesting."

He pointed toward a small goal nearby.

"Shoot."

My heart pounded.

I took three quick steps.

Swung my leg.

The ball flew into the top corner.

The coach stared at me for a long moment.

"You've got talent," he said quietly.

"Don't waste it."

Before I could reply, someone shouted from behind us.

"Raina!"

My blood turned cold.

That voice...

I knew it.

Slowly, I turned around.

Standing at the edge of the crowd was my father.

His face was filled with shock.

Then anger.

Pure, terrifying anger.