The wings of kostiç

Chapter 3: Still Waters

The next morning was quieter than most. Chris woke up before the alarm, sunlight creeping in through the torn curtains. The twins were still out cold, tangled in a mess of limbs and bedsheets. He sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His legs were sore, but it was a good sore.

He made himself a bowl of cereal and sat by the window, staring at the street below. Old men walked their dogs. A couple of high school kids smoked near the bus stop. Everything looked normal. But Chris didn’t feel normal.

He could still hear the scout’s voice in his head. "You see space before it opens."

It replayed like a broken record. Not because he was flattered, but because he was wondering if he really believed it himself.

His mom walked in with a yawn and kissed the top of his head. "You’re up early."

"Didn’t sleep much."

She looked at him for a moment, her eyes tired but knowing. She didn’t ask more. She didn’t need to.

"Take today easy. No need to push it every second. You’ll burn out."

Chris nodded but didn’t answer. Resting felt like falling behind.

He walked to training that day, even though he could’ve taken the tram. He wanted the air. He wanted the silence. He passed the bakery, the hardware store, the same tired graffiti tagging every wall. It was his route, but today he paid more attention to it. As if he was trying to memorize the details, in case one day he left it all behind.

Training was light. Recovery day. Short sprints, stretching, ball control. No pressure.

He stayed after, juggling a ball alone. One touch, then two, then twenty, then fifty. Lost in the rhythm.

"You're going to pop it if you keep going," someone said.

He looked up. A girl leaned against the fence, arms crossed, smirking.

"You always this intense?"

Chris stopped juggling. "Just focused."

She stepped closer. "I’m Mia. My brother plays here. U14s. I saw your scrimmage yesterday. You were good."

"Thanks," he said, unsure what else to say.

"You looked like you had something to prove."

Chris smiled faintly. "Maybe I do."

"We all do," she said. Then she turned and walked away.

Chris stood there a while, the ball at his feet, his thoughts somewhere else entirely.