Guatire, casa without a number (Caracas, Venezuela)

My Mickey Mouse alarm clock woke me up at 5:30 a.m. I laid in my bed, feeling empowered by the posters of great soccer players plastered in the walls of my room. They always made me feel like I was standing among the big ones. This is it, I thought, This is 'the day.' Today, my futsal team and I were playing the Caracas inter-school futsal championship against Felinos de Maracay. Several sports reporters would be there and who knows, maybe even also some scouts of the futsal national team... I smiled widely, bubbling with excitement. By the way, what a weird dream I had!

I stood up. In the bathroom I started to visualize our strategy while I was brushing my teeth: We can begin securing the ball... No, better we attack fast and take them by surprise.... I shook my head, laughing, as I stepped into the shower. There was no use anticipating our strategy for the game; after all, my dad was our coach and he always had the last word.

I got dressed and grimaced at my untidy dark brown hair. I tried to comb it using an extra strong, alcohol-free styling gel, but it was a lost cause. Resigned, I took a step back and glanced down at my new uniform. It was white with red stripes and had a big eagle smack dab in the center of my chest, the symbol and namesake of the bookstore Águila de Caracas, our family business. As I was putting my protectors, someone knocked on the door.

"Let's go, Aníbal, or we'll be late."

"Dad, I'm ready! Stop pushing!" I answered.

I opened the door and saw my father wearing his coach uniform, stretched tight over his beer belly. He smiled at me and adjusted his thick glasses; they gave him a graceful look to his sweet personality. Sometimes my dad was a pain, but he's a nice old man. I was ready to go and followed him downstairs.

A particular and well known smell surprised me: the famous empanadas of my grandma. The old man passed in front of me and got one right from the oil colander. Dilia María scolded him:

"Mijo! Don't do that! Don't you see you could get burn?"

Smiling and winking at me, my dad hefted the duffel bag with the sport equipment and some new uniforms over his shoulder. My grandma scowled at him and handed me a lunch bag in which surely there were two delicious cheese empanadas.

"Thanks, grandma!

"Son, I lit a candle to la Milagrosa. You just wait, you'll win the cup!" said my grandma, ruffling my hair with her small hand.

She gave me a sweet kiss on the forehead and I went to the mirror and tried to style my hair again but it was useless. Crap!

My dad yelled at my little brother, Azael, to hurry up. My brother had surely stayed awake until late last night watching the last Harry Potter movie; he loved those stupid books.

"Azael! Shit! Come down! It's getting late!"

My brother didn't answer and my dad, exasperated, handed me the duffel bag and a folder. "Get these things in the car while I go get your brother."

I opened the door and stepped out on the front garden but the sight of a Dalmatian sitting next to our old truck brought me up short. Somehow, the dog seemed familiar and, funnily enough, it looked like it was smiling at me. It wasn't from the neighborhood, it was clean and cared for, and those were not the common features of the dogs from this humble area.

I realized that last night, I dreamed of a Dalmatian, except the dog in my dreams had blue eyes. After dumping the bag and folder on the beat-up truck, I turned to see my grandma carrying another bag of empanadas

and my sleepy brother walking behind her. He was one of the worst fullback defenders of the whole league. Thank God he was always watching the game from the bank.

"Grandma, who's the owner of that dog?" I asked, turning around. She followed my gaze, but the dog was gone. "Nevermind," I mumbled, puzzled.

"Shit! Grandma, it looks like it's going to rain!" I told her, while glancing up at the clouds that were approaching.

"Aníbal! Language!"

"Right, sorry grandma. Just, give me a break, okay! I'm all stressed out."

"Don't worry. You and your brother will have an excellent match today. And don't forget that the day after tomorrow it's your birthday and next your brother's. I'm sure that God will grant you this cup, mijo."

"Yeah! That cup's ours!"

My dad turned on the engine with miraculous patience. Azael jumped in the front seat and I claimed the back seat, struggling to roll the window down. With a final wave, we drove out, leaving behind a trail of smoke and the rattle of the truck..