Kulti

by Mariana Zapata

I know that I stood there screaming right along with my dad because he was yelling and it seemed the most appropriate thing to do.

Then there was the whole, I-had-posters-of-him-all-over-my-walls until I was seventeen, and the whole me-telling-everyone-I-was-going-to-marry-him thing.

No one ever says that fear is logical, because it isn’t. It’s stupid and irrational and on a scale of one to ten it sucked about a fifty.

I was like the Ricky Bobby of the WPL.

To be prepared for war is one of the most effective means of preserving peace.

No, thank you and fuck that.

The fact I sounded like a well-adjusted human being instead of one that was about to shit her pants made me proud.

Then even after I corrected him he still said it the wrong way. Which wasn’t a big deal; I was used to having someone butcher it. It happened all the time. Suh-lome. Saah-lome. Sah-lowmee. Salami. Salamander. Salmon. Sal-men. Saul. Sally. Samantha. Or, in the case of my brother: Stupid.

“We’re all done. Thanks.” “Anytime.” Not.

But whatever, it wasn’t like anyone was asking me for my opinion.

We got where we were today, because he worked his ass off.

Harlow was awesome but… she really did look like a murderer. I could have easily imagined her as a Viking princess, raiding villages and mounting people’s heads on spikes.

High-intensity drills, my favorite. I must have smiled or something because I heard Jenny clearly murmur, “You’re a monster,” under her breath.

Was it time to shut up? Yes. Definitely.

I had to get up early so I did it, but that was only after I lay in bed for approximately seven minutes, and then followed that up by sitting on the edge of my bed and staring absently forward for at least another five.

Me

The urge to open my mouth and tell him to go suck a cock was right there, but I reeled it in slowly and steadily like it was a barracuda fighting for its life.

“Just don’t hit him in front of everyone!” Harlow ordered me

True friend 😂😂

It was one thing to be an ass to me or my teammates. But he’d hurt my papi’s feelings, and that shit just didn’t fly.

GET ‘IM SAL!!!

“Hey, you German bratwurst.”

“Usually someone’s arguing about how inflated the soccer ball is, for Christ’s sake.”

The problem with men, or males in general, that I’d discovered over the course of my life, was that they had huge mouths. I mean a whale shark has nothing on the average man with a couple of friends. Honestly.

This is so true. They’re worse than women.

Except I hadn’t anticipated the fact that what I thought of as ‘coach’ he apparently interpreted as ‘Gestapo.’

The first time he yelled, the drill most of the team had been busy executing had come to a sudden pause. I mean, it stopped. For all of two seconds, the players that had been maneuvering around obstacle courses stopped in their tracks and looked up. I was one of them. It was like the voice of God had suddenly come down on us and told a prophecy or something.

The second I hung up the call, Marc angled his body against the seat since we were at a red light and blinked at me. “Bitch, you’ve been holding out on me. Tell me everything.”

Marc: “SPILL the TEA, girl 💅”

I kept my gaze steady. “I’m trying really hard here,” I told him carefully. Still, he stared.

I was pretty sure he didn’t actually know any of our names because all he did was call us by our numbers, but the point was, he was actually calling out our numbers. Like they were curse words, sure, but he was speaking.

Reiner Kulti had just punched me in the shoulder. I had driven him home, argued with him over how I didn’t want his money, and then he punched me in the shoulder. I closed my eyes, pinched my nose and burst out laughing. “Get outta here,” I said when I started laughing harder.

Blah, blah, blah, fuck, blah, blah, blah, something-something-shit, blah, blah, blah.

But my favorite thing that came out of his mouth was “Is that how girls play soccer?” Oh man.

“Bring him a cupcake or something then Sal, because this is getting out of control. I don’t know how you haven’t started crying yet.”

Between the people I played with for fun and Harlow, I could take it.

I wanted to punch him in the dick.

“They,” and he pointed at Kulti and me, who had surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, played like we’d been teammates for years, “can’t be on the same team together!”

His one-word answer sounded as brutal as usual. “No.” So at least he was an asshole with everyone. There was that.

“Okay. Fine. But maybe next time call me an imbecile when I’m not in front of your girlfriend, would that work for you? ”

Manners, Germany, ever heard of them?”

Kulti didn’t hesitate to throw his hands up behind his head. The short brown strands crept through his fingers. “I want to shake you right now.”

“You’re one of the best I’ve ever seen, period, man or woman. What kills me is that you are a complete fucking pushover who’s hung up on worthless words in front of a person that doesn’t matter.” His cheeks were flushed. “Grow some balls, Casillas. Fight me for this. Fight anyone that tries to take this away from you,” he urged.

“Are you crying?” Clearing my throat, I blinked hard twice, lowering my gaze to the small cleft in the German’s chin. “No.” His fingers went up to push at my shoulder lightly. “Stop it.” I lifted my chin and pushed his shoulder right back, sniffling while doing it. “You stop it. I’m not crying.” “I have two eyes,” he replied, looking down at me with a troubled expression on his face.

Sure. Same time? Kulti texted back. Ja. I smiled at the screen before setting my phone on my lap. “What the hell are you smiling at?” Marc asked from his spot behind the driver’s seat. The smile eased itself off my face. “Nothing.” “Liar.” I rolled my eyes as the phone vibrated from between my legs. Bringing it back out, I made sure Marc’s attention was back on the road. Go make a quesadilla. I started laughing hysterically.

What followed was an explosion of German that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Vicious and sharp-edged, I only understood a few words here and there. Something about dying and his investment?

“They’re both in good shape, have nice smiles and nice faces.” I glanced at the screen. “And I like their beards. What’s wrong with that?” His mouth gaped a millimeter. “What?” “Do you have father issues?” “What? No. My dad’s great, jeez.”

Kulti blinked. “I’m not attracted to senior citizens.”

All right. I cleared my throat and sang under my breath, “Tough shit, frankfurter.” There was a pause before he let out a snicker. “Sal, I don’t know how you haven’t gotten elbowed in the face yet.”

He reached over and smacked the side of my knee with the back of his hand. “I’ll be back.” I opened my mouth and let a huge grin take over my face, the action halting him halfway up. The only reason I didn’t laugh was because it would hurt, but I still snorted. “Okay, Arnold.” Kulti didn’t look particularly impressed. “He’s Austrian, not German, you little shit,” he deadpanned, his face saying I was annoying him, but his eyes said he thought I was a little funny.

“You know your reputation is just what everyone else thinks of you, your character is what you really are.”

You don’t get to take your anger out on me and expect me to get over it like nothing happened.

“I know who’s gotten a nose job,” she offered. “I also know who has a yeast infection. What you do with that is up to you.”

Who was this man with manners?

“I don’t know whether I want to hug you or beat you,” he said in Spanish.