by Alison Ryan
“And gross,” Tara piped up.
“I’m sure he’s on some sort of banned persons list or security watch or something,” Kat assured the group. “Anyway, after dinner tonight get some rest. Coach Pressley is serious about bed check and we have a game tomorrow. See you downstairs in a bit.”
“Were you totally freaked out?” Alyssa pointed the question in Tara’s direction.
“I think he was harmless. I hope so anyway. We’re always in such a large group, so many people around, I wasn’t ever really worried. A lot of us have had creepers, stalkers, whatever. You can imagine the people following Jada around. None of you have ever gone out with her to like a club or anything, right?”
The group shook their heads in unison.
“It’s like being with a Kardashian. Photographers, paparazzi everywhere, guys and even girls hitting on her like crazy. Leah has her fans too. And Lori, you know, she’s always been Miss Downhome Southern Belle, but ever since she did that photo shoot with Travis Zane and then she was in that Most Beautiful People issue of People, she’s been on another level. You guys should be prepared; life is going to change for you. College soccer is a very niche sport, hardly anybody notices. But when you play in a World Cup or an Olympics, and really play, you’re on worldwide television. If we win gold, it will get crazy. Commercials, you’ll be asked to be on television shows, all that kind of stuff. It all starts tomorrow, so get good rest tonight.”
The women finished dressing in their matching Team USA tracksuits and went downstairs for dinner and a meeting with the coaches.
Coach Riffle addressed the team first, going over New Zealand’s personnel and playing style. She’d broken down all the game tape they could get on the Kiwis, and she warned the team that they’d be facing a big, physical opponent that liked to attack through the air, to expect long punts and lots of running after long balls. The starting lineup was given out, and both Logan and Savannah were part of the eleven who would be on the field for kickoff. Tara, with a slight hamstring pull, would come off the bench, as would Alyssa, Coach Pressley preferring to ease such a young player into her first major international tournament slowly.
After dinner and their meeting, the coaches loaded the players onto a bus and left the Village, to the puzzlement of even Lori Gallagher.
“No idea. This is all Coach. I had nothing to do with it.” Lori responded when several players asked what was happening.
The bus pulled into a hotel a few miles away from the Village, and the players were led through a side entrance and ushered toward a ballroom. From down the hall, they could hear voices inside, reciting a familiar chant.
“I.” A single voice.
“I!” A large group, in response.
“I believe.”
“I believe!”
“I believe that we.”
“I believe that we!”
At this point, the USWNT, led by co-captains Lori Gallagher and Kat Malloy, rounded the corner and walked into a room willed with red, white, and blue streamers, balloons, and Uncle Sam’s Army, in full voice.
“I believe that we will win.”
“I believe that we will win!”
The chanting continued, and the players broke into grins as they looked around the room and recognized friends and family members sprinkled throughout the crowd.
Logan rushed to her mother, wrapping her arms around her and burying her head into her shoulder. Tracy was more subdued than the others around them, wearing jeans and a Logan Lowery jersey.
Logan turned to welcome Savannah into their duo, but she noticed her friend standing, slack-jawed, in the center of the floor with tears streaming down her face.
She followed Savannah’s eyes across the room to a couple in wheelchairs, the man with oxygen tubes running below his nose. Logan hadn’t met Savannah’s parents, but she knew.
She watched Savannah cross the room and drop to her knees, weeping as she embraced them both. Savannah’s mother had battled diabetes for years and her right foot had been lost to amputation. Her eyesight was also failing. Savannah’s father had lung and prostate cancer, and neither had been expected to travel to Rio.
Uncle Sam’s Army made it happen, taking up collections and arranging for transport.
Logan and her mother strolled over, among pats on the back and high fives, to meet Joe and Aundrea Reeves.
The night was spectacular, a proper “Welcome to the Olympics” moment for the team and a chance for the fans to rub elbows with their idols. Several players made remarks, the coaches each thanked the organizers and the fans and promised to do their best to make America proud.
Coming down off the high of celebrating with their fans didn’t let sleep come easily, but eventually Logan and her friend drifted off, the feeling of how much she missed Solomon one of the last of her waking thoughts.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Solomon
Solomon was in the air during the match, but when his plane touched down, he immediately checked his phone for the result of the United States-New Zealand match. He smiled when he scrolled down and found the score, and his smile grew wider when he saw the scoring summary:
USA 4 (Lowery 21 40 Gallagher 58 Vogel 61) New Zealand 0.
That meant Logan had scored, not once, but twice! In the 21st and again in the 40th minute, with Lori Gallagher and Jill Vogel padding the lead in the second half. Solomon was proud. Despite the current uncertain status of their relationship, he was a Logan Lowery super fan, and he was thrilled for her. He thought back to the chilly nights on Victory Parkway, where Xavier University was found, watching Logan play, and how he wished he could have been there to watch her on the Olympic stage.
He couldn’t wait for the Opening Ceremonies.
Solomon was likewise scheduled to compete the day after the Opening Ceremony, but he had no doubt as to whether he’d attend. He was among the vast majority of athletes in attendance, having reached his goal by qualifying for the Games. He was expected to possibly be in medal contention in 2020, but 2016 was supposed to be a “happy to be here” event.
Winning a match of two would make the 2016 Olympics a resounding success for Solomon Kano.
But something in him kept thinking about what Chuck Lowery had said to him, that one night he had the privilege of meeting him.
“We’re not guaranteed shit in life,” he’d said. “Seize your day.”
Solomon nodded to himself. He wouldn’t just be happy with being invited to the Olympics.
He planned on leaving with a medal. And the heart of Logan Lowery.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Logan
New Zealand had come close to scoring in the second minute of the match, sending a shot clanging off the post and then one going over the crossbar by mere inches. The American team steadied itself after that, taking more possession and building their attacks methodically. In the 21st minute, a Kiwi defender had to kick the ball over her own end line to get out of danger, and Angie DeCarlo took the corner kick. The ball sailed across the goalmouth, over the heads of everyone, but just as it passed the far post, it dipped. A flash of blonde curls rose into the air, Logan Lowery sending the ball crashing past a defender and into the upper corner with her forehead. Dayton, Ohio, Montgomery High School, Xavier University, the USWNT and Logan Lowery 1, New Zealand 0.
Twenty minutes later, after a botched corner kick and scramble in front of goal, Logan, who had started to retreat back on defense, turned to find the ball bouncing toward her twenty-five yards from goal. She coiled her well-muscled right leg and exploded into the ball, sending a laser through the crowd in front of the net and past the stunned New Zealand goalkeeper. USA 2, New Zealand 0.
Logan’s mother, sitting in the handicapped section with Joe and Aundrea Reeves, screamed herself hoarse. Their Logan Lowery and Savannah Reeves jerseys drew congratulatory hugs and high fives all afternoon.
France beat Colombia, 3-0, in the other game in their group, meaning the Americans’ second ga
me would probably determine the group winner and the more favorable quarterfinal draw.
The Opening Ceremonies were scheduled for the evening before the France match, so the coaching staff let the team put to a vote whether or not the team would participate in the Parade of Nations. Sixteen-to-two, the players voted to attend and march in the parade. The DeCarlo Sisters voted against. They’d marched before and preferred rest before a match against the 3rd-ranked team in the world.
The forecast called for rain, but when the first dancers took to the field at the extravaganza to welcome the world to Rio, the weather was clear and comfortable.
Athletes gathered in their national finery in the bowels of the massive Maracanã Stadium, milling about, preparing to walk. Greece, dictated by tradition, went first. Portuguese spellings of each nation were used, meaning the United States, spelled Estados Unidos de America, walked just a scant few places ahead of Fiji.
Logan, for her part, was soaking in the majesty of the event, star struck by the NBA players and marveling at being so close to recognizable athletes from other disciplines. She hadn’t forgotten the article she read in the Cincinnati paper before leaving for Rio, and the smoldering eyes of Solomon Kano staring back at her. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t avoid him.
Milling about, chatting with her friends, she spotted a group behind them that included a man dressed as an island warrior, and she figured he must be Fiji’s flag-bearer.
She peered through the assembled athletes, large and small, until she spotted him. He was some distance away, but he was unmistakably buff and rugged, his arms stretching the short sleeves of his sky blue shirt. His long hair was tied back and up, out of his face, and she watched him chatting with two of his teammates, laughing easily, shifting his weight from side to side.
Suddenly, her field of vision was blocked by a tall, smiling man from the contingent behind the Americans, Estonia. Logan realized she’d been staring a little too long, and he must have thought she was looking at him. Mortified, she put both hands up and shook her head, causing the Estonian to pout playfully. She let herself blend back in among the American athletes to avoid further embarrassment.
Savannah, who watched the whole scene play out, leaned in close to Logan’s ear to be heard over the noise in the stadium. “Looks like you made a new friend.”
“Shut up Savannah!” Logan punched her friend on the arm. “I was trying to see if I could spot Solomon…” She let her voice trail off. She hadn’t really talked much to Savannah or anyone else about what had happened with them.
“He’s here? I mean, duh, of course he’d be here, right? That’s Fiji over there?” Savannah pointed in the direction of an island warrior holding a pole with a sky blue flag on it, rocking back and forth, lost in thought.
Logan nodded.
“Which one is he?” The taller Savannah rose up on her tiptoes and tried to pick out one particular face, despite the fact that it was one she’d never seen before. “Oh forget it, what’s his name, again?”
“Solomon. Solomon Kano,” Logan answered over a crowd which had gotten louder when Brazil’s neighbor, Colombia, was announced.
“Solomon,” Savannah repeated, more to herself than to Logan, dragging out his name so that it stretched to what sounded like a dozen syllables. “Be right back.”
With that, Savannah gracefully slipped away from her teammates and navigated her way through the Estonian contingent, despite Logan’s voice urging her to return.
An Ethiopian, a distance runner judging by his slight build, intervened and stopped Savannah. “Hey USA, what’s good? I’m Degaulle, Georgia Bulldogs, track and cross country. You play basketball?”
Savannah, towering over him, smiled warmly and accepted his offered hand. “Savannah. I play soccer. Florida State. Now if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Bulldog, I’m on a mission for a friend.”
Savannah pressed on, Degaulle’s voice fading into the cacophony of voices as he tried to shout out his room number in the Village.
The Fijian flag-bearer was startled by the appearance of a statuesque American athlete in front of him, and he straightened up and adjusted his costume.
“Strange question, I know, but do you have a Solomon on your team?”
“Um, yeah, yes, we have I think two. I don’t personally know every member of our team, but yes, one plays rugby and the other one I know of plays judo.” He turned and scanned his group for them.
“Judo, the judo Solomon. Which one is he?”
Savannah watched the man she was talking to point at one of the blue-shirted Fijians and signal him to come over and join them.
Suddenly, a man appeared at Savannah’s side. “I have to ask you to rejoin your team, please.”
Savannah rose a single finger and held it in front of his face to quiet him as she watched Solomon move through the crowd. Savannah heard the security guard at her side speaking into a walkie-talkie and knew her time was limited.
Solomon walked with a smooth, unhurried gait, unmistakably athletic. He appeared before Savannah and met her dark eyes with his own. The two held the eye contact for a moment longer before even the uber-confident Savannah had to look away. His square jaw and piercing gaze was just too much.
“Hi, I’m an American, a soccer player. My best friend is…”
Solomon interrupted.
“Logan Lowery.” He leaned in close to Savannah’s ear and his breath so near her neck made her own breath catch.
Stop it! Savannah’s brain commanded her body.
“Yes, actually. How did you…?” Savannah asked.
“You’re Savannah Reeves. I know all about the USA team. And you’re friends with Logan. How’s my girl?” He extended a hand, which Savannah shook.
At that point, two security guards joined the first who attempted to relocate the wayward American athlete.
“Miss, we must insist that you remain with your nation.”
As Savannah was gently led away and back toward her group, she got off a parting shot.
“Logan says hello. Good luck!”
Confused by the exchange, Solomon watched her depart and tried to spot Logan through the forest of humanity, but without success.
“She was hot, bro. Who was that?” Solomon’s roommate, Markus asked.
“Friend of my girlfriend. Maybe. Hopefully. I don’t know.”
“Is she a single friend of your girlfriend?” Markus asked, hopefully.
“No idea. But way out of your league anyway, brother.”
Markus quashed that notion. “I’ll get laid in the Village before you do, bro. Want to bet on it?”
“Nope,” Solomon replied, still monitoring the Americans for a shock of curly blonde hair. “Not looking to get ‘laid’. I have my sights set higher than that.”
Savannah returned to find Logan hiding behind the collective height of the men’s volleyball team. “Savannah! What did you do?”
“Just a little, what would you call it, reconnaissance? You should thank me. He is hot. You’re lucky we’re friends, girl.”
“I don’t feel lucky! What did you say? Things are… complicated with us.” Logan looked at her friend. “Isn’t he gorgeous?”
Savannah laughed. “He is. And so are you. You should make babies together after this is over. Little fighting judo soccer playing babies.”
Logan laughed, so grateful to have a friend like Savannah and even more grateful to be sharing this kind of moment with her.
Savannah and Logan checked each other’s appearance before walking out onto the biggest stage onto which either one of them had ever set foot. The eyes of the world were watching, and the roar of the crowd for Team USA had both girls, and the rest of their team, beaming with pride.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Solomon
Solomon was a ball of nervous energy, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he did before a match. He’d never felt so alive. He reflected back on the past few years as he joined his team on their lap; the story of h
is birth, his childhood in Fiji, his adolescence in the United States, his improbable rise to the Olympics. The Olympics? He dug a thumbnail into his right index finger to convince himself he wasn’t dreaming. He wiped a single tear from his cheek as he walked, wishing his mom and dad could be there to experience the moment with him.
And still, even with all of that weighing on him, he also still thought of Logan. He needed to see her while they were here. No matter what she said.
As Team Fiji rounded the far turn, he caught site of the Americans crowded in the infield among the other nations. He had tried to spot Gavin and his Fijian family in the stands, but without luck. Knowing they were there would have to suffice.
Daydreaming about the spectacle they must be watching, and how far it was from the village where he grew up, he glanced over at the assembled Americans and he finally saw her.
Logan.
She was with her team and they’d already left the stage and were waiting for whatever happened next.
He approached her and the team and he immediately was relieved that Logan appeared happy to see him. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it briefly before introducing him to her teammates.
“You met Savannah,” she said, winking at her friend. “This is Tara. And Alyssa. And the twins, Allie and Angie DeCarlo…”
One of the twins spoke.
“Wow, it really is you,” Allie said. “You’ve grown up. Not enough, but still…” Allie gave Solomon a look that bothered Logan, a look of lustful appraisal.
Solomon was confused, looking each twin in the eye and then returning his gaze to Logan and shrugging his shoulders. “I’m sorry, do I know you from somewhere?”
