Free 44 Book Four by Jools Sinclair

don’t. They keep trying to pull you back down into their crap.”
    There was anger in her voice. I finished telling her anyway, about Mo and her tattoo.
    Kate sighed.
    “Well, what can I do to help? You want me to try and research this kid, see if we can find out what happened to him?”
    Kate was always Kate. My nose started stinging and I could feel the water pooling in my eyes as I thought about how lucky I was to have her in my life.
    “Abby, you okay?” she said.
    “I’m just tired,” I said. “Let me see what Mo says. I work with her again soon. Maybe it won’t be such a big deal. Maybe it’s kind of like a translation gig, you know?  The ghost boy just wants to tell her something.”
    Kate shifted in the sofa.
    “Maybe it’s her brother,” she said.
    “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. Thanks for listening. It helped.”
    “Good,” she said, picking up the control. “Always tell me these things, Abby. We’re in this together.”
    When she said that I almost lost it.
    “Come on,” I said. “Let’s see what happens to Mister Bates.”
    “God, I hate that guy,” Kate said as she started the show up.
    “Me too,” I said, the glow of the television bright in our faces.
     

 
    CHAPTER 15
     
    I picked up a pair of socks and wandered around Dick’s, checking out the Messi poster that was hanging above a display of jerseys. I had the same exact one in my room and had been looking for another, maybe one with the entire team, but they didn’t have any. I would have to find it online.
    It was an exciting time to be a Barcelona fan. They were looking strong as they headed into the quarterfinals of the Champions League. They also had a shot of winning La Liga , beating out their hated rivals, Real Madrid. And Messi looked as if he was a real contender for the Pichichi , the award given to the top scorer in the Spanish league.
     “That guy knows soccer,” a young guy said as he walked up to me.
    “No one better,” I said.
    I was surprised actually that someone in the store even knew about Lionel Messi. While most agreed he was one of the greatest soccer players ever at only 24 years of age, and while millions of people around the world watched him play every week, most Americans had no idea who he was.
    One of my dreams was to visit Spain someday and sit in the Camp Nou and watch my favorite team play a game. Messi, Iniesta, Carles Puyol, Xavi, Dani Alves. I wanted to watch Pep Guardiola, the best soccer coach in the world, coaching the best soccer team in the world.
    But my current wage of ten dollars an hour plus a few tips wasn’t going to get me there anytime soon. Although I had started saving a little from my paycheck every week, I was only up to $250 and my car registration was due next month.
    I made my way to the check out. There was a man in front of me and as I waited I pulled out my phone and checked for messages.
    Mike asked, again, if I could come in an hour early. I texted him back telling him I could. I knew I would be working with Mo and was planning on asking her about the boy who was tattooed on her arm.
    I always liked buying new soccer gear, even if it was just socks. It reminded me of the days when I played for my high school and flew all over that field, winning the ball and scoring. I was happy that I was playing again, but it wasn’t the same and sometimes it made me sad thinking that, save for the odd fantasy, my glory days were behind me. I could have been in college now if I hadn’t had the accident, maybe on a full scholarship, maybe even trying out for the US team.
    But whenever it got me down, I told myself that anything could have happened. Nothing was a sure thing. Like what happened with Amanda, my ex-friend who I used to play with. She was starting goalie last year at a California college but then blew out her knee.
    The cashier looked at me as I handed him my stuff, like he was waiting for something.
    “Come on, Abby,” he said, laughing. “Take a good