A NIGHT AT THE SOCCERSPHERE!

Maci Gian & Valeria

Tonight was the big night! Tonight we were going to the Soccersphere!

I sat in the passenger seat of Val’s car, a fancy looking red one I could never remember the name of, and couldn’t stop bouncing. She kept the roof down and her gaze ahead, the sound of passing cars and pop music from the radio mixed together while we grew closer to the stadium.

The evening was perfect.

The sky was a deep, wonderful indigo with hundreds of stars scattered throughout, with the only silhouette obstructing the view being the Soccersphere itself.

I couldn’t believe we were going to see Orion—I couldn’t believe Val kept it a secret from me this whole time! A part of me wished she had hinted at it a little, or had suggested I packed something space themed, because I had absolutely nothing to wear for this event besides my usual black tux, a white dress shirt underneath, and my black pants with thin, white pinstripes. Maybe I could lie a bit and say my outfit was inspired by how dark the night was.

Val, on the other hand, was well dressed for the occasion. A gorgeous, vivid purple, one-shouldered dress with a strap loosely hugging her left arm, and an off centered slit for her legs to poke through. It’s ends were ruffled and wavy, and whenever we passed under a streetlight, the glitter in the fabric sparkled.

It also had pockets! That’s where she kept her phone.

Her phone and the tickets to the event were the only things she took with her, while I had a voice recorder, pen, phone, and a clipboard, which I held close to my chest with anticipation.

When we drove past the chainlink fence surrounding the stadium, we were stopped by a security guard who ended up guiding us to the nearest parking spot.

I didn’t even wait for Val to finish parking the car before I stashed my board away, leapt out, and made a dash to the stadium’s entrance.

Chatter and laughter filled my ears as I ran by the array of Super League fans who were all heading inside with me. Seeing everyone wearing Orion merchandise on them—hats, shirts, hoodies, or any sort of space-themed clothing—and hearing them talk about which player they were excited to get autographs from, it made my heart race faster.

Despite the fact I knew this event was going to go on till the late, late hours of the night, there was a little voice in the back of my head telling me I had to hurry, that I was on a ‘time limit’, that I shouldn’t take too long and miss my chance to interview the fans, or take some pictures, or talk to Orion—!

There was so much I wanted to do, and this was one of the last events Orion was hosting until who knows how long! I had to make the most of it, I had to—

“Maci!” I heard Val call after me.

I skid to a halt and whipped my head around to see Val from afar, just feet away from the car.

My eyes flickered down, and between the legs of the people walking in front of her, I could see the black heels she wore.

‘Ah, shoot. That’s right.’ I thought to myself.

“Sorry!” I yelled before stepping off to the side to wait for her.

The crowd slowly went by, and as I listened to the passing conversations, my eyes followed the heads of the people before they eventually landed on the Soccersphere itself.

The large, towering, Soccersphere.

A stadium that looked so…

Alien.

That was the only word that came to mind when I looked at it.

Alien.

Super League stadiums never shied away from being striking, whether it was their mechanics, their size, presentation, or a combination of all three to make soccer games all the more exhilarating, but the Soccersphere? The Soccersphere hardly resembled a stadium.

It hardly resembled a building.

It was more like a mechanical chunk that had broken off from a spaceship; coated with nothing but various hues of metallic blue with the Orion logo slapped above the entrance.

There weren’t any windows—save for the observatory at the very, very top of the stadium that Coach Black used—and the only visible doors I saw were the main ones up front, which were surrounded by large, white, square panels that emitted a soft glow.

The overall shape of the stadium was… Hard to describe, honestly.

It had four stories, and it’s shape sort of resembled an upside down dome, I suppose. It was comprised of five, wildly different sized cylinders stacked atop each other. The first being the widest yet the shortest, with the second being roughly the same height but it’s width half of the base’s, which wouldn’t be too bothersome had it not been for the fact it balanced three, significantly larger floors atop of it; the third and final being so large it completely blocked the night sky and overshadowed the crowd. I couldn’t help but worry about the stadium one day collapsing under it’s own weight, or toppling over and destroying whatever’s underneath.

Then there were the ‘legs’.

The several large, arched legs that sprouted from all sides of the stadiums and dug themselves deep into the pavement of the parking lot.

The legs that looked far too thin to be trusted with holding the Soccersphere in place.

The legs that looked as though they were trying to keep the stadium latched onto our Earth—or moments away from shooting out and crawling away.

I shuddered at the thought.

Someone nudged my arm—

I jumped back and spun around to see Val, who looked just as surprised as me.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, and for ah, scaring you.” She smiled, “Really thought my heels would’ve been loud enough to notice, but it is rather crowded here.” She dug into one of her pockets and pulled out two tickets with Orion’s logo in the center of it, and one of their ends a deep purple, “Let’s go.”

We joined the rest of the fans and headed towards the entrance, the overhang of the largest floor looming over us. I kept my head facing forward so I didn’t think about the whole place crashing down on us.

I thought about what I wanted to do first.

I’d love to get autographs from the players, I’m sure everyone else here wants that as well.

I wondered if they’d be okay with me interviewing them?

What if I get to meet Coach Black?

As we squeezed through the doors, the chatter inside was somehow louder than the chatter outside.

Hundreds of people were yelling over each other, laughter filled the air, and I think there was music playing, but it was completely drowned out by the conversations around us.

There were so many—wow was there a lot of people here!

I glanced off to the side to see Val handing the tickets to a security guard, who promptly ripped off the purple tabs and handed them back to her before repeating the process to the people behind us. How in the world was this guy able to keep track of everyone?

I felt Val wrap her hand around mine. I gave it a small squeeze, cueing her to hold onto me tightly and pull me through the crowd.

As she navigated me to a place with hopefully more breathing room, I took the time to appreciate the excellent job the Soccersphere’s staff did with the decor.

The usual white, florescent lights were now tinted gentle blues and purples, completely dowsing the room with their wonderful, cool tints. It was a little disorienting, especially after directly coming from outside, but the lights really helped bring everything together.

Paper stars of various sizes and small models of planets dangled from the ceilings, gentling swaying from the blowing AC units above them. Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, it seemed every planet in our solar system was here, including some of their moons. Whoever made the models took the time to make sure the sizes between them were accurate, with Mercury being the smallest—at least I think the little sphere in the far, upper right corner was Mercury—and Jupiter being the largest of the bunch. The artist even took the time to make some gorgeous looking rings around Saturn that dazzled underneath the lights, as did the stars around the planets.

The Sun was, of course, hanging in the center of the ceiling, though because of the lights’ colors, it read more pink than yellow.

I couldn’t begin to imagine what a hassle it must’ve been to hang these up on such a high ceiling, but the results were well worth it.

Aligning the tops of the light blue walls—the same metallic blue I saw on the exterior—were white fairy lights strung about.

I heard an aggravated huff leave Val’s mouth.

I quickly darted my eyes over to see a large group of people blocking our way. Some of them were wearing Orion’s merch, but strangely enough, a few were wearing Nakama’s.

“I said ‘excuse me’!” Val loudly stated, and when one of the people finally glanced over at her, but barely budged, Val scowled and pushed her way through, taking me with her.

I let out a few quick ’Sorry!’s as some of the people glared at us, but it wasn’t like we had any other way to go. Most of the central floor was filled with people coming and going.

I happened to catch one of the members of the group show off a journal with a couple autographs inside, and then I caught a snippet of what they said—

“…Yeah, I managed to get Kylo’s attention right before he left the…”

My eyes widened.

Nakama was here?

Were they still here?

Could I actually get the chance to interview both Orion and Nakama players?

“Val—“ I started, “Val, Nakama’s here!”

Val quickly glanced at me, “What—Did you see them?”

“No—no not yet, but I heard someone mention them, they got their autographs!” I was trying so hard to contain myself so I wouldn’t blast away from Val’s grasp to find them. I kept a mental note to myself that I needed to get back to that group and ask some questions, or anyone else where they saw Nakama.

I heard Val let out a ’Hm.’

Then we suddenly stopped.

I peeked over her shoulder to see the event map she was staring at.

The floor we were on was depicted as a large circle with four points along the edges.

The point at the bottom edge was labelled ‘Main Entrance’, the point off to the left was a bar, a grazing table, and something called ‘Repas Galactiques’, which I assumed was a catering group providing meals for the night. That could be a good place to get some interviews at.

The right point was labeled ‘Space Simulation & Family Activities’. I chuckled to myself, as fun as it’d be to try out whatever attractions Orion had set up, I’m probably a little too big to participate in that.

Then there was the point at the very top: Autographs.

It was just up ahead.

My eyes sparkled.

I poked past the sign and my face fell when I saw just how huge the crowd was.

I couldn’t make out any of Orion or the table they sat because of people constantly moving and shoving past each other while the security guards did everything they could to keep everybody within the red ropes.

I looked back at the sign.

Autographs would have to wait, then.

My eyes slowly started to trail to the upper right corner of the map where Coach Black’s observatory laid. There were a list of dates and times for when it was accessible, tonight wasn’t one of them, but there’s one upcoming evening that we could possibly squeeze in before we leave if I asked Val very nicely—

I saw Val’s fingers point to the other side of the map, where a thin line branched from the main floor and pointed to a rectangle labeled ‘VIP Lounge’.

“I got us tickets there.” She smiled at me, “How does meeting back here in half an hour so we can check it out sound? Does that give you enough time look around?”

“Yeah! That should be good!” I already started taking several steps towards the left of the stadium, “But I might be a few minutes late—if that’s okay! Y’never know how long some interviews might take—or the food! Hope that’s okay!”

I didn’t even wait for her to finish her ‘Yes’ before I ran off.

I slipped between the other people, picking up pieces of conversations and jokes, all with the low bass of the music mixing with it all.

I glanced up.

A pink, neon light sign that read ‘Galactic Bar’ caught my attention. A graphic of a margarita glass with a small planet stuck through a toothpick was next to it.

I kept my eyes locked onto it as I dug into my pocket and took out my voice recorder. It was small, black, and it’s buttons were worn down, but it was durable and picked up audio well. I held it firmly in my grasp as the crowd around me turned to streaks of purples and blues as I rushed through.

As soon as I stepped into a clearing, my eyes darted to what the sign was attached to.

A curved bar table with wheels underneath. A purple glow emitted from under the black countertop, and it was long enough to seat nine people, though there was well over nine people hanging around it, as groups of friends had managed to squeeze themselves between the seats and lean against the ends of the table.

Two bartenders with black vests and a space-patterned shirt underneath were working hard, speaking to guests as they’d occasionally turn around to grab some bottles from the two small, white shelves behind them—where the sign sat atop of—or reach under the counter to grab whatever glasses they needed.

Just several feet to the left of the bar was a line—

A long line.

I took a few steps back to see they were all waiting to order from Repas Galactiques, which was two, white canopy tents pressed together where the chefs could be seen prepping and serving sandwiches.

I noticed a chalkboard menu beside the line and skimmed some of the items: Saturn subs, Mini-Moon sliders, Comet clubs…

Fun! And they sounded delicious, but I didn’t want to spend my 30 to 40 minutes waiting in a line.

Then there was a large spread of food across a couple of tables where people were serving themselves. Smaller club sandwiches, salads, breadsticks, assorted fruits and cheese, and the furthest table had an array of desserts including a chocolate fountain.

‘Don’t mind if I do…’ I thought to myself.

Getting a snack wouldn’t take away too much time from any potential interviews.

It wasn’t nearly as crowded as the restaurant was, and everyone seemed to be behaving well over there, so why wouldn’t I want to help myself to a little something?

As I grabbed a plate and started to serve myself, I spoke with a couple of the guests around me about this event and Orion.

“I’m a long time fan,” One woman told me, “see this shirt I’m wearing? It used to belong to my grandparents, and now they’ve passed it down to me! Check it out!” She took off the denim jacket she wore over it to reveal the worn down, short sleeved shirt that was adorned with autographs, some from players I didn’t recognize the names of.

“It’s a little hard to tell cause of the lights, but it’s a reeeaal pale yellow, and the edges here—“ She pointed at her collar and the ends of her sleeves, “—Are like a uh, a real subtle violet is what I’ll call it. That used to be the team’s older colors before they changed it!”

What was most interesting to me was the old logo. An intricate drawing of a telescope on a field of grass which had its widest-end facing the viewer with a ‘reflection’ of stars in it’s lens. In fine penmanship, the words ‘Orion F.C. were written in the lower right of the illustration.

I then spoke to a couple of people who were hanging around the dessert table as I grabbed a couple of brownies and macarons. I asked if they were enjoying the event so far, and if they were long time fans of Orion.

“I—well, I dunno if I’d say I’m a ‘long time’ fan, but I’ve been supporting them for about two-ish years now? But Mary over here introduced me to ‘em!” A bearded man said as he dramatically wrapped his arm around the lady with long hair beside him, making her laugh.

“Yeah, y’see, I’m a packaging operator, work from 12AM to 8AM, so I miss out on a lotta Super League games, but Orion’s got so many late night games and stuff like this—“ He gestured across the room, “—it actually gives me a chance to hang out and get to know the community without having to ruin my sleep schedule more!”

“Have you tried the cookies yet?” The long-haired lady asked me, pointing towards a platter filled with said-cookies, “You should! They’re real good.”

I thanked them then followed her advice, grabbing a couple of cookies and carefully placing them on my plate before I started to make my way over to the bar.

As I scanned for the next person to interview—preferably someone who didn’t look too busy or someone who had Nakama merch on them—I popped a cookie into my mouth. It didn’t look like anything too fancy. It was round, had chocolate chips, and while it was hard to tell what it’s colors were due to the lighting, I did notice it looked like two different batters swirled together—

‘Wow, these ARE good.’ I thought as I ate.

Real good.

I might steal more later.

As I grew closer to the bar, the stench of whiskey and fruit stung my nose.

My face scrunched.

‘Better make sure the interviews I get here are fast ones.’

When I locked eyes with someone who was mid-sip, I waved at them with my voice recorder before pointing at them. The person nodded their head, I took it as my cue to go over and introduce myself. They seemed interested enough, despite never hearing of our website before, so I asked my question.

“Are you here only for Orion? I’ve heard Nakama is apparently around, and I know Supa Strikas were by the Soccersphere a little while ago.”

“Just Orion,” They said, “But I did see a couple of those Nakama guys stop by Orion’s table to talk with them.”

“Did you get their autographs?”

“Orion’s? Yeah! I don’t think Nakama was doing autographs though?” They chuckled before taking another sip, “Not that I would’ve gotten one if they were, they’re not really one of my favorites. Now if Technicali were here? Completely different story.”

I pressed my lips together, containing my annoyance when I heard that. I didn’t have anything against Technicali’s players, but I still hold a grudge against Toni Vern for yelling at me for accidentally lost a few times at his stadium.

Despite my pettiness, I said: “A fan of the more scientific-teams, I see.”

They nodded, “I find there’s still a real big divide between people interested in science, and people interested in sports. There’s this idea that you have to like one or the other, that you can only pursue one or the other, and if you lean more towards brains, you got no brawn, and if you prefer brawn, you got no brains. I like the way Coach Black and Toni blur the lines. They mix what they’re passionate about together.”

I gave them a thanks and let them get back to their drink.

It was a nice perspective to hear, but I didn’t want to push the conversation further in case it’d set off a Toni-related rant out of me. Besides, I got a bit more information about Nakama.

They had to still be around the autograph tables then, that would explain why the area was so crazy. I’d expect it to be decently crowded enough with one team at the table, but two? Who wouldn’t jump at the opportunity?

But what if I was wrong and they had already left?

What if I missed them?

I tried to look back at the autograph table, but there were too many people in front of me.

I lowered my brows—then instantly raised them when I saw someone with a Nakama sweatshirt on them.

I reached out with my recorder.

“Excuse m—“

“Excuse me.” An unfamiliar voice rang out as I felt a hand grab my shoulder. It sounded slightly raspy, a touch squeaky, and I swore I heard a Boston accent.

I turned around. A woman with a pair of piercing blue eyes stared right back at me.

I did not know this woman.

At all.

She was dressed nicely, a long trench coat—it was rather red, pink, or orange, it hard to tell with the lights—that stopped at her knees and was left open to show off her low, white, v-cut shirt and a lanyard around her neck with words I couldn’t make out. She had a pair of black, knee-high boots that bled together with her tight, black leggings, and wrapped around her coat was a rather large, dark gray belt with a round, golden buckle that looked larger than my entire hand.

She looked like she was important, but I genuinely did not know who she was.

She scanned me up and down, her red lips growing into a smile.

“Oh my gosh, don’t tell me—“ She pointed at me, “Are you a reporter too?”

Whatever eyeshadow she used had quite the blue shine to it.

“Too?” Was all I said back.

“Yeah! I’m Kristie!” She used her free hand to grab her lanyard.

“I’m Maci—“

She shoved it into my face.

There was a picture of her in the center of it with her name written in thick, pink text underneath. I narrowed my eyes to get a better look at the text above the picture—

“Celebrity Gossip Magazine?” I said.

She nodded as she shoved the lanyard back, “Yup! Oh my gosh, it is so nice to see another reporter here! Do I have, like, suuuch a story to tell. C’mon, c’mon!”

She made her way to an empty seat back at the bar and motioned for me to follow.

“Oh, uh—I don’t drink, sorry.”

“You don’t have to drink, silly, you’re totally fine!” She motioned again, her smile bigger.

I hesitantly followed, not like I wanted to pass up a chance to hear a good story.

I watched as she sat down, straightened her posture, and shoved her hands into her lap before she spoke to the man sitting next to her. She batted her lashes and said something to him that prompted him to nod and get off the seat. She looked at me and patted it.

“So, I used to be apart of Futbol 360, right?” She said as I nodded along, lowering myself into the seat, “Right! But like, okay super funny, they thought I was ‘too extreme’ for sports! Sports! Isn’t that crazy?”

“Yeah, it is.” I thought she was going to share a Super League story. What on earth prompted this?

A part of me knew I was probably better off not knowing, but I felt compelled to ask anyways, “What made them think you were ‘too extreme’?”

“Ugh, gosh, don’t get me started.” Kristie blew a strand of her brown hair out of her face and took a sip from a martini glass, the drink itself a rich purple with edible glitter swirled inside, it’s rim coated in salt.

Was that even her drink?

“So get this, my boss wanted me to get a story with Invincible United after their game—“

“Against Cosmo?” I tilted my head.

“No, no, no, no, against Orion, this was a little while ago, but Invincible United lost, and they were leaving the stadium super quickly, so like, I panicked!” She brought her drink down quickly, nearly splashing it on me, “They weren’t going on that big bus of their’s, they were all going to their own cars, and like, I needed to grab at least one of them so we could reach our quota! Then I saw Snake get into his car and start to leave the parking lot—“

She took another sip to clear up the rasp in her throat.

“—And he was driving fast, and I tried to yell at him but like, he wasn’t slowing down? Even though I was obviously a reporter! So I caught up to him, and right before he made it to the main road I jumped in front of his car and he like, hit me!”

“He what?!” I shouted. I didn’t care the fans around me stopped and stared, I was too shocked to care, and all Kristie did was nod and smile at me, looking much happier than she did at the start of this conversation while she finished the rest of her drink.

“You—“

I sputtered.

“Are you—“

I scanned her up and down.

“Are you okay?” I finally asked.

She perked up and set her glass down, “Hm? Me? Oh, yeah! Yeah, I was so fine, the hospital bill wasn’t even that big!”

I kept staring at her.

“Anyways, they fired me, boo.” She pouted, “Can I have another one of these purple-swirly drinks please?” She asked a passing bartender, who nodded and took her empty glass away.

“But~” She sang, as if what she just shared was the most normal story anyone has ever told, “Celebrity Gossip heard my story and thought I was like, so dedicated—which I am—and working there is so much better! People actually recognize my hard work, and you’d be surprised how much people love Super League gossip. So, who do you work for?”

She propped an arm atop the counter and rested her head on it while those blue eyes of her’s pierced through me again.

“I, uh—My friend and I work on our own news site together.“ I said. How the heck do I continue a conversation after that?

“Fuuuun.” It looked like she was about to say more, but she stopped and raised her head, “Ohmigosh, Val? Is that you?”

I whipped my head around, and sure enough Val was standing behind me with a less-than-pleased expression on her face.

“Hey Val, did you hear she like—got hit by a car?” I asked.

“Yes, I remember that. Hello Krissy.” Val barely acknowledge the whole ‘getting hit by a car’ thing, so now I felt like I was the crazy one for being freaked out by it.

Kristie gasped, “Are you the one helping them with their little website? I didn’t know you were doing mentorship stuff now.”

“Less of a mentorship, more of a ‘helping my friend’… Ship.” Val finished her sentence awkwardly, “How’s your boyfriend?”

“Broke up with me, double boo.” She pouted again, “He’s been doing some tryouts for some Super League teams though, so hopefully he’ll gimme super cool, insider gossip, y’know? Oh! You knooooow…” She slowly pushed herself away from the table to peer past me and look directly at Val, her smile somehow getting even wider, “I could totally give you some gossip for your website if you ever need it!”

Grimace flashed across Val’s face, “That’s a great offer b—“

Kristie grabbed a business card out of an inner pocket and shoved it into my hands.

Val immediately snatched it away.

“I’m going to watch Supa Strika’s match against Technicali super soon, I could so fill you in on the little details, just email me.” She winked.

I felt Val tap the back of my shoulders a few times. I stood up.

She locked her arm around mine, “Anyways, great seeing you again Kristie, sorry about the boyfriend, hope you meet someone better, but we have to meet someone really soon, so we have to go.”

Val didn’t wait for Kristie to respond. She started moving and so did I.

I couldn’t help but glance behind me a couple of times as we strayed further from the bar. Kristie kept watching us.

Even when we pushed through the crowd and she was no longer in my line of sight, I could still feel her eyes on me.

“Who are we, uh—who are we meeting?” I asked.

“No one, I just didn’t want to deal with her tonight.” Val said.

A part of me was tempted to ask if she had worked with Kristie before, or heard about her from previous coworkers, but Val’s tone told me that question was best saved for a later time. Maybe when we need to email Kristie, I can pop it then.

We turned a corner then went through a set of teal, double doors.

We went from a colorful, bustling room to an empty, narrow hallway with only the sound of muffled bass and the clacking of Val’s heels to fill the air.

The walls were gray and featureless, as was the ceiling, save for the rectangular, florescent lights and the occasional, glowing-red ’EXIT’ signs.

The floor was… Surprisingly fun.

It was a black carpet with a pattern of the solar system throughout it, along with some pink and purple blotches, and stars scattered about. It reminded me of the sort of carpets I’d see in bowling alleys, or arcades at the mall.

We kept walking.

Val hadn’t said another word, but her steps sounded less upset.

I couldn’t help but continue to worry, though.

Were we allowed to be back here?

No one else was coming through, and I don’t remember seeing any signs stating we could enter.

‘I don’t remember any signs telling us NOT to enter either.’

“So, uh, where we goin’?” I finally asked.

“Hm? Oh—oh!” Val’s head flickered in my direction, “Sorry Maci, we’re going to the VIP lounge, remember?”

We kept walking.

With each step I took, I swore I felt the floor beneath me tilt upwards more and more. It was subtle, but just noticeable enough to feel awkward. I peeked past Val and spotted a black railing that aligned the walls up ahead.

At the end of the hall was a small stairway that lead to a security guard who stood in front of a black door with a tinted window. It was cracked open just enough for me to see the purple lights inside, and a gray sign with white text reading ’VIP LOUNGE’ hung below the window.

“Ah, I’m sorry again.” Val said as she started to slow down, waiting for me to catch up, “Sorry, I was—I didn’t expect to see her here, and I didn’t mean to worry you, it’s…” She hesitated, “This event’s been wonderful so far, everyone else has been very friendly, but I haven’t had the chance to speak with anyone in Orion yet. Way too crowded.”

I gave her a reassuring smile, “Whaaat, no, you’re fine! It’s okay, I figured you—you’re all good! And yeah, I didn’t even try waiting in line for them. I figured the wait’ll be much shorter by the time we’re done here.”

As we grew closer to the guard, Val dug into her pocket again. The moment she was close enough to them, she pulled out two small, pink pieces of paper, which prompted the guard to smile and open the door further.

We stepped in—I gave them a thank you and the door was shut behind us.

The VIP Room was much smaller than the one downstairs, but somehow so much more spacious. There was a good amount of people in here, yes, but not nearly as many as the main floor. There was actual breathing room between the clusters of people.

The shape and size of the floor was unconventional; long, thin, and a bend in the middle which gave it a wide ‘U’ shape, which made me wonder if this was located within the sides of one of the stadium’s huge cylinders.

The thought of the Soccersphere toppling over entered my head again—

I pushed it out.

Just like the main floor, the lights above were tinted, this time being pink and purple, which felt even more prominent on everything & everyone due to the black walls that surrounded us, blocking in the colors. Stars hung above us once again, stars with careful folds and delicate cuts I could properly see now that the ceiling wasn’t so high above us.

I followed Val as my eyes scanned the lounge. Spread throughout the center of the floor were sofas and cushioned stools of various sizes people sat on as they spoke to one another. I followed the line of seats—a slight but noticeable ’S’ shape—to the far right, where another bar laid. It also had quite the crowd around it, not just for the drinks though, but for the multiple TVs mounted on the wall behind it replaying past Orion games.

I noticed that, unlike the other bar, this one didn’t have any wheels, and the shelves behind it—at least from what I could see—were much larger with a wider assortment of drinks. I wondered if this was Orion’s own personal bar. I wondered what sort of conversations a soccer team would have during a night of drinking.

There were multiple tables with food spread across them by the left wall closest to the door. There were multiple chefs putting together and serving meals for the people in line. My eyes lit up when I spotted even more of those delicious cookies laid out. I’ll have to get those later.

At the far left side of the room, by the upper corner, was a set of double doors with purple and blue streamers hanging from the doorframe. It looked like it lead to a balcony of some kind—

I froze.

I grabbed onto Val’s shoulder.

“Val. Val, Nakama’s here.”

I pointed at two figures lingering around the doors. While they weren’t wearing their soccer uniforms, I recognized their faces instantly. The tallest one, with his straight, black hair which went to the mid-point of his back was none other than Nakama’s reserved and fast-thinking midfielder, Kylo. He wore a long, loose, and thin-looking dark gray coat that stopped right at his knees with a thick, black sash tied around his waist. He wore a pair of black harem pants that had it’s puffy ends shoved into… What I believed was a set of black boots, though it was hard to tell with all the people in my way.

Next to him, a player who’s height stopped just at his chin, with a shorter and distinct hairstyle—the sides of it being shaved, but the top being fluffy and longer—and a strand of black hair in his face was Masaru, the team’s striker infamously known for his more brutal playing style. A moment most fans knew Masaru for—even those who weren’t too familiar with Nakama—was the instance he had attacked Twisting Tiger in the middle of their match against Supa Strikas, elbowing Tiger’s arms so hard he was unable to carry on playing for several minutes after.

Like Kylo, Masaru sported a pair of black pants, though they were tighter. He had a set of black dress shoes, and work a dark gray jacket that was rather short sleeved—or had it sleeves rolled up. Either way, I could see the white cuffs at the ends of them. On the back of his jacket was his team’s logo, big enough to be spotted all the way across from here.

“Oh my gosh, they’re here.” I whispered.

Before Val could say anything, I darted off.

I grabbed the voice recorder from my pocket—nearly dropping it with how fast I was going—and called out to them. I could ask about their thoughts on Orion—or their next game—or their last game with the Sultans—!

“Kylo! Masaru! Hi—Have time for an interview!?” I spoke frantically as I rushed towards them, afraid they’d dash off even though they were perfectly still, “I’m a—I run Supa Stars! Soccer news site!”

The two players turned around. I got to see the black v-shaped collar on Kylo’s coat and the dark red t-shirt he wore underneath, along with the white, knotted buttons on Masaru’s jacket that he didn’t take the time to put together. He also wore a red shirt underneath.

Kylo brushed a strand of his hair out of his face, while Masaru had his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants. The purple color from the lights made it tricky to get a good read of their expressions—especially when I was still several feet away—but I swore I saw Masaru say something to Kylo before the midfielder gently nudged him before looking back at me.

Once I was close enough, Kylo spoke to me—though with the music playing and all the chatter around us, it was kind of hard to hear him.

“Good evening, we have not heard of Supa Stars before. Are we right to assume you are new?” His voice was quiet, and he had a polite smile on his face. His pale, linen-colored skin had been completely overtaken by the pink lights shining from above.

Masaru kept his eyes locked on me. His warmer, tanner skin also overtaken by the lights.

“Yup!” I beamed, “We’re still a real small site, but we travel around, attend a lotta games—our goal is to interview and get stories from any and every Super League team out there!”

“Our?” Masaru repeated, his thin, black brows furrowed.

“Yeah! My friend Vaaa—“ I turned to see where Valeria had gone off too, and when I spotted her sitting on one of the long, dark indigo sofas at the center of the room, I pointed to her, “—aaaal! Val and I run the site together!”

“I see.” Kylo nodded again, “Please, give us your questions.”

I clapped, started my recorder, and aimed it at the Nakama players, “So, what brought you two over to the Soccersphere tonight? Are you also fans of space? Or did something else about this event catch your interest?”

“I suppose you could say it was a little bit of both.” Kylo told me, “We had known about these events for some time, but only now have we gotten the chance to see it for ourselves. We are usually too busy to enjoy these sort of moments.” He hesitated for a moment, “We have an upcoming match against Orion in the future, and we told our coach we would, ah, ’study’ Orion and their strategies while we were here.” His smile wavered. He glanced at Masaru, who smirked back at him.

Masaru’s smirk dropped when he looked back at me, “We’re waiting on Keita and Kendo to finish talking with Orion. Once they’re back, we’re leaving.”

Shoot, I was on limited time. I better make the most of it.

“And what about this upcoming match? Are you playing for league?”

Kylo shook his head, “No, it’ll be friendly.”

“But our coach will treat it like league, and if we want to make up for our failure against the Sultans, so should we.” Masaru raised his head and lowered his brows.

Before I could ask about the Sultans, Kylo spoke up.

“I agree, but this is also supposed to be a break.” He side-eyed the striker, “The reason we haven’t visited sooner is because our coach wants us to dedicate much of our time to training. It took a lot of… Convincing, for him to agree we could go.”

“And how are you liking the event so far! Your teammates are speaking with Orion right now, but what about you two? Have you gotten the chance to speak to any of the players?” I asked, the thought of the Sultans still in the back of my mind.

“We have, they are very charming.” Kylo nodded, “It is always nice getting the chance to speak with other players outside of our games, though not every team is enjoyable to talk to. Orion, though, they are great listeners. I spoke with Phinus, he was very nice and I… Well, if we were not so busy with our training, I wouldn’t mind speaking with him again.”

“Ooh, what did you two speak about?” I leaned closer.

Masaru suddenly cut in, “The brothers are annoying.”

Kylo sharply exhaled and pressed his lips together. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to suppress shock or laughter. I knew Masaru was talking about the Spacex brothers, though.

“This is—this is going to be published.” I told him, pointing to the recorder in my hand.

“Great. I hope they read what I said.” He said, “Have you met them yet?”

“The Spacex brothers?”

“Any Orion player.”

“No, not yet. I’m going to after thi—“

“Wonderful. I want you to play that recording to them so they know how I feel.” He gestured towards my device, “They are the worst part about going against Orion. Whenever they have the ball, all they do is bicker. It is a wonder how Coach Black is able to handle them on and off the field.” He took his hands out of his pockets to fold them, “Our coach would never let such immaturity slide.”

“Actually, on the topic of other players…“ I began, I didn’t even start the second half of my question as I noticed both of their expressions shifted to dread, “…I’m sure you two have already been asked this plenty of times, but what was the deal with Miko Chen & Twisting Tiger? There was quite a lot of speculation on whether it meant Tiger was considering rejoining Nakama or not.”

Masaru’s grip on his arms tightened.

Kylo’s opened his mouth and hesitated.

“It was…” Kylo tried to start, but his words devolved into mumbles.

“No comment.” Masaru looked away from me.

Kylo cupped his hands together and tried to keep a polite smile on his face, “…Bad timing.” He finally said, “We did not expect Supa Strikas to be attending the same time we were. Apparently, ah, Klaus is also fond of space and wanted to bring his team with him, and then…” His words trailed off again as he began twirling a lock of his hair with a finger, occasionally pulling it as he started to avoid eye contact.

“Did either of you speak to Twisting Tiger, or was it just Miko Chen?” I asked.

There was no response.

Despite how loud the surrounding conversations were, despite the music that filled the air, the room had never felt so quiet.

I tried for another question, “Do you know what Miko Chen and Tiger talked about?”

Kylo shifted around on his feet. The tugging on his hair grew more frequent, meanwhile Masaru’s nose scrunched and his scowl grew before he finally hissed out:

“No comment.”

Kylo glanced at him.

“From either of us.”

Kylo gave him a small nod and finally tucked the strand behind his ear, “Yes, it’s… We apologize.” He gave me a small bow.

I heard Masaru let out a ’Pah.’, and muttered something about ‘That crazy Gossip lady too…’ The rest of the sentence being lost within the ruckus of the crowd.

“No, no worries!” I waved my hands and felt my cheeks grow hot, “I’m the one who should be apologizing! I didn’t mean to make things awkward. How about we change the subject? Masaru!”

The striker raised his head but didn’t turn it to look at me.

“You mentioned how you guys played against the Sultans? How was it?”

“We lost.”

My cheeks grew hot, suddenly I was much more thankful that this room had such intense lighting, “Right—! But I mean—did you guys get a chance to speak with any of the players? Or stay overnight at the Oasis, cause I heard the Sheikh tends to treat the other teams super nicely and—“

It was my turn for my words to trail off as Masaru finally started to turn his body towards me. There was a crooked smile across his face that read anything but ‘happy’.

“Are you a fan of the Sultans?”

“It’s—well—I think they’re—“ I looked away and dug my free hand into my hair.

“Oh, it is nice to know we are getting interviewed by such an unbiased news source.” He nudged Kylo with his elbow, the cynical smile spreading across his face. Kylo looked at Masaru for a moment, but his hair obscured his face, so I had no idea what his expression was.

Whatever it was, though, made Masaru smirk wider.

I scrambled to fix my demeanor, “Hey! No—I was asking this because… The Oasis is closing, and I wanted to know what your thoughts were.”

Masaru didn’t look like he was buying my excuse, but Kylo showed genuine interest.

“Truthfully, We were quite surprised to hear the news so soon after our game.” Kylo said, “The Paradise Oasis is a rather luxurious stadium, and as you have said, the Sheikh is a good man. We thought the stadium was doing quite well, but perhaps there is more going on behind closed doors than we were lead to believe? In a strange way, I will miss it.”

“And why’s that?” I asked.

“The heat.” He responded.

“The heat?”

He nodded, “Yes, it is oddly comforting for me when we play at the Oasis. You see, summer is one of my favorite seasons, and it gets quite humid in Japan during that time, so playing at the Oasis is… It is strangely comforting.”

Masaru’s expression relaxed, “The Sheikh can get a bit too friendly at times, but I agree. It is nice to play with a team who can also take the heat.”

This had to be the first time I heard someone other than the local fans of the Sultans speak fondly about the heat. Even from hardcore fans outside of the country, the humidity was something many dreaded and have stated was the biggest ‘con’ when it came to visiting the Oasis. I’m sure if I had ever gotten the chance to step foot there, I’d also complain, but I felt the heat was a part of the true, Sultans experience.

“Ura Giri isn’t too, hm… Keen on the Sheikh’s friendliness either, but I do not mind it.” Kylo added, “He always goes above and beyond when it comes to caring for us, and it is nice to not have to push ourselves as hard as we usually do.”

A ’tch’ slipped past Masaru’s lips, “A nice way to get soft before a game, too.”

I nodded along and thanked the players for their time. Before I headed back downstairs to get some autographs from the Orion players, I had asked if either of them were planning on doing anything after this.

“We have a hotel we have to return to before our curfew.” Masaru said.

“Curfew? Your coach gives you guys a curfew?”

“Any qualified coach would give their players one.” He glared at me, “And if you spend any longer here, you could stay past Orion’s curfew and not get your little autographs in time.”

Taking this as my cue to leave—and not wanting to figure out whether Orion actually had a curfew or not—I thanked Kylo and Masaru one last time and headed off. I slipped my voice recorder away, took out my clipboard, and when I passed Val on my way out, I pointed to my clipboard before pointing to the exit.

Val got the memo, nodded, and gave me a little wave.

I left the room in a hurry, the security guard hollered at me to slow it down so I wouldn’t trip.

I slowed myself to a brisk walk, but that couldn’t have lasted for more than several seconds before I found myself running again.

I couldn’t tell if that interaction went well. They—well, mostly Kylo—didn’t seem too upset with my questions, but they didn’t look too pleased either. Was it the way I said them? Or when I said them? Timing was everything in this field, after all, and I’d hate to have missed a chance to ask such relevant questions while these events were still fresh in the players’ heads.

Maybe it was a bit of both.

Maybe I could’ve worded them better and drop the questions when we weren’t at a fun event—

I stumbled over my own feet and nearly fell flat on my face.

When I regained my balance, I shook my head and actually walked slower this time.

I took a deep breath.

It’s journalism. People will get questions they won’t like, and I’ll have to deliver questions I don’t like. That’s how Futbol 360 gets their best stories, and that’s how I keep the website running.

‘I just wish I didn’t have to make the players feel so bad about it.’ I thought to myself.

I don’t know how the professional reporters do it. How they’re able to ask all the hard hitting questions without batting an eye, how they can make quips and jokes without fear of offending a player or getting clobbered.

I’m sure I’ll get better in time.

I hope.

That’s why I have Val along to help me—and it’s why she wants to help me—I want to speak with more soccer stars. I love soccer. I just have to stop being so afraid of approaching them.

My mind flashed to Iron Tank’s #6 player—’Einzeller’, as I recalled Uber referring to him—and shuddered.

‘That includes Iron Tank.’ I told myself.

They were big, they were scary, they were mean, and they could probably kill me with one finger, but I have to get over my fear of them sooner or later. They weren’t leaving the Super League any time, and neither was I.

The chatter of people echoed through the hall and filled my ears. It didn’t seem nearly as loud as it did when I first came in.

I grinned. Hopefully that meant less people in line for the Orion signing.

As I hurried out and entered the main floor, my head snapped to where the autographs were, and I bolted over the second I saw there were only 5 people in line now.

I weaved between the red ropes, and once I was in the line, I hugged my clipboard to my chest and eagerly waited.

The signing area was pleasantly simple. Three folding tables which were placed in a line were covered with lilac-colored cloths that stretched all the way to the ground, in the center of each cloth was Orion’s logo. The large backdrop behind the players was a picture of space. No planets or moon from what I could see, just a swirls of purples, blues, and pinks with stars all across it. Standing at both sides of the backdrop were two tall soft-box lights with their tops angled slightly down so they’d illuminate the backs and sides of the players. The white light was enough for me to make out their features and expressions, but it wasn’t enough to overpower the tinted lights from the rest of the room, as I noticed traces of blues and purples along the edges of their arms, necks, and cheeks.

Speaking of players… The who were present was Andre Meda, of course, I’m sure he was the player that was mentioned most in all the event descriptions, and most likely the one fans wanted an autograph from most out of everyone on the team. He sat in the middle, the bronze complexion of his light brown face hit with a gentle, purple glow, and his short, black pompadour-styled hair was messy as always. When I glanced at the people ahead of me, it seemed most of them had posters and art featuring him.

To the right of the team’s captain was their goal keeper, D’etoille Phinus, who was talking to the fan in front of him as he signed their paper. He rested a cheek against his propped up hand, fingers tapping along the side of his black, low fade, brush cut, a thick, sharp, and slightly curved triangle cut sliced through his hairline. There was a warm smile on his face followed by laughter at something the fan had said, his dusty-umber skin also illuminated by a purple light.

Next to Phinus was Neil Sagan, one of the team’s midfielders and also the player who got 8th place on the ‘Best Hairstyles in the Super League’ list! He always looks so energetic and happy in photos, with his fluffy, combed back, golden-yellow hair and his beige skin glowing, but here, he was slightly hunched over, his blue eyes were wide and twitching, and he kept clicking the pen in his hand so fast that I was afraid the thing was going to explode. His hair still looked great, though.

At the very end of the right side of the table was Vega S. Cométe, another midfielder, who was leaned back and had a comforting hand on Neil’s shoulder—

“They said brother! Singular! Not plural! So I’ll sign it.” I heard a deep voice grunt. I looked over to see Max Spacex, a defender, who sat to the left on Andre. His thick, rectangular brows were curled down. There was a pinkish-peach hand gripping his black, flat top hair, trying to shove him back.

“With your chicken-scratch handwriting? Not happening. I can sign it.” The higher, grainier voice of his brother, Stax Spacex—another defender—spat as he pushed Max further. He used his free hand to motion at the fan to come closer. Unlike his brother, his hair was a light brown combover. However, just like his brother, he had a hand on him too. A sepia-brown one that gripped onto the collar of his uniform that attempted to lift him out of his seat and refused to let go.

Ben Schwarma, a third defender, sat between them.

He looked exhausted.

“Guys. She said ‘brothers.’ Multiple. You can both sign.” Ben said, his voice devoid of all energy.

Ben’s short, dusty-brown hair was still neatly swept to the side and appeared stiff and untouched. Usually that’s nothing worth mentioning, but if the brothers have been acting like this all day, Ben has rather done a fantastic job avoiding any incoming hands, or he was consistently fixing his appearance anytime he got roughed up.

Either one must’ve taken an impressive ton of patience.

The fan hesitantly took a step forward when Ben extended his hand out. The white light shining above him practically bounced off his pale, cream skin.

He nodded to her when he grabbed hold of her poster, then grabbed the pen on his table before bringing both over Max.

He let Max take the pen, but didn’t let go of the poster. He waited for Max to begrudgingly let go of Stax, sign the poster, then once he was finished, Ben repeated the same steps with Stax, and handed it back to the fan with a smile, followed by a ‘Thanks for coming out tonight.’

“Evening!” I heard a friendly, slightly-scratchy voice call out to me.

I perked up and looked to Andre Meda, who was looking right back at me with a smile.

My heart raced. I gripped my clipboard and hurried over.

“Hi—evening!” I said, “How’s the night going?” I extended my clipboard out to him.

“Not too shabby.” He grabbed it while his eyes lingered on me, “Loving the star on your hair, how long that’d take you to do?” He motioned at the center of his hair with his pen.

Vega peeked over and let out a small ’Oooh!’ when he saw me. His lips were a deeper, dull red, to the point they almost looked brown. It strangely complemented the colors of the Orion uniform.

“Star?” I repeated, putting a hand atop my own hair till I stopped and remembered the white blotch in the middle of it, the ‘star’, “Oh! Oh, that! No, just something I was born with.” I swatted at the air, “Had it since, well, forever.”

“Well, it looks fantastic.” Vega said with the flick of his wrist, his voice sounded so smooth and harmonic, “You fit right in with the rest of us!” He slicked his dark, ocean-blue hair back. It was short, thick, and curled at the very front, with the tip of it being pointed up. It almost resembled an ocean wave, and I couldn’t help but be reminded of Liquido when I saw it.

The clicking of Neil Sagan’s pen got faster as his eyes darted between Vega, Andre, then me. I heard a second tapping coming from him, but with no visible source, I had to assume it was his foot.

“So, who’s this for?” Andre asked as he started writing ’To:’.

“Maci Gian! Uh—Maci with an ‘i’ at the end.” I replied, “And I was wondering if I could get all of your autographs?”

The other Orion players all nodded and gave grins of approval. Neil’s was a fast flash, and the brothers’ barely lasted for a second before they started glaring daggers at each other again.

Andre stopped and lowered his brows.

“Maci?” I heard him mumble to himself, he lifted his head, “Say, you know Val? Valeria Perez?”

I blinked, “Uh—yeah! She’s my best friend and helps me run our news site—“

“No kidding!” Andre suddenly stood up and towered over me, “She’s mentioned you a whole bunch, it’s great to finally put a face to the name!” He shot a hand out. I grabbed hold of it—and he enthusiastically shook mine, making my whole body shake with it.

“Hey guys!” He said to his teammates, still shaking me, “This is the other reporter helping Val run that site of hers, that Supa Stars I told you about!”

The other players all waved.

This was the first time I ever got recognized by a Super League figure with such positive reception. It felt surreal and flattering in a… Strangely embarrassing way.

I didn’t know Val spoke about me with her friends, much less Super League players. My mind started to imagine all the things she’s probably told the people she knew, and my cheeks got hot.

“Always nice to see new journalists in the Super League.” Phinus told me, his voice smooth and low—somehow even smoother than Vega’s. Gosh, it was almost like velvet. “You picked a good time, too. It isn’t often there’s a long enough space phenomenon for our coach to host an event over. Are you gonna be going to the upcoming tour too? It’s real cool, you get to check out all the equipment we use, Coach Black gives you a chance to check out his observatory, and Andre and I’ll be helping out.” He put a hand on his captain’s shoulder.

“No, not yet!” I said, “We actually wrote an article promoting this event, but I didn’t know we were going to be coming here, this was a surprise from Val. I’d love to, though! We’ll be heading off to the Iron Tank in a few days, but we should be able to make it!” I watched as Andre sat back down and continued signing his name on my clipboard while I went on, “I sorta wish I did know though, or got a little hint, cause I would’ve loved to prep some interview questions—if you have the time, of course! I’m sure you’ve all been busy—“

“I can do an interview!” Neil nearly lunged out of his seat, but Vega grabbed him and sat him back down.

“They’re talking about later, Neil.” Vega said, “Sorry about him, if he stays in one place for more than 30 minutes, he starts to get jumpy.” He smirked as Neil folded his arms and pouted.

Andre passed the clipboard over to Phinus.

“It’s fine, I get it! Though I wouldn’t mind getting a chance to interview one of the players who made it onto the ‘Best Hairstyles in the Super League’ list.”

As soon as I said that, Vega’s face dropped while Neil’s lit up.

“Oh, that list!” Vega groaned and dramatically threw his head back.

“That’s right, my list. My super special list~” Neil sang as he was handed the clipboard. He leaned closer to the miffed midfielder as he signed it, “My wonderful, special list with my beautiful, beautiful hair in it.”

When his chair started to tip over a little too much, Vega grabbed it and forced it back down.

“He uses dollar-store conditioner by the way!” Vega pointed at Neil, who just laughed.

“I got on the list and you didn’t~” Neil sang.

“You got 8th place.” Vega snapped back.

“Still on it.” Neil stuck his tongue out.

Vega glared at him for a moment more before he cracked a smile—which he quickly covered with a cough and fixed his hair with before looking back at me.

“I wasn’t too happy with those results.” Vega said as he was handed the clipboard, “I take my sweet time to make sure I look perfect—hair included—and Mr. Three-minute-shower over here manages to get top ten?” He signed it before handing it back to Neil and mumbled a ‘pass it back’. Neil nodded and grabbed it.

I’m pretty sure Vega was joking—Neil certainly didn’t seem offended over the jabs—but there was a twinge of guilt that shot through me that made me feel inclined to apologize to him, and maybe share the fact he was super close to being on the list—

Neil chucked the clipboard across the table. Phinus and Vega jerked back—Andre ducked his head in time right before the board could hit the top of it—

Ben caught it.

He glared daggers at Neil, who shrunk down in his seat with his cheeks red.

“He said pass it, not throw it.” Ben said.

“My baaaad…” Neil whispered as he slid further down.

Ben was quick to sign his name, his eyes hardly flickered at the board itself, and instead kept bouncing between the Spacex brothers, who looked like they were about to clobber each other over who’d get it next.

As soon as he finished, he held it in front of Stax to let him sign.

“You know…” Max started, he propped his head up with his hand and gave me a smile too big to be sincere, and a tone too friendly to be genuine, “If you’re in a rush but still want some interviews, I’d be more than happy to do one, and I can answer any questions on my brother’s behalf. You’d get a two-for-one deal!”

Stax shoved the board out of the way and scowled, “Who’s ever heard of being interviewed for two people at once?! Get real!”

Ben groaned.

“Well, I’m the one who actually knows how to present themselves to the public.” Max shot back. He was about to say more, but Ben shoved the board in his face. Max scribbled his name down.

“Oh yeah, getting snarky with me in front of a journalist is real professional.” Stax hissed through gritted teeth.

It was Max’s turn to shove Ben out of the way, “Not as professional as that time you shoved Ben Zed’s camera man aside when he tried to speak to y—“

“That was an accident and you know it!” Before Stax could pounce, Ben shot an arm out and held him back.

He frantically motioned at me with my clipboard. I hurried over and grabbed it.

“Jeez, staying put for this long must’ve taken a toll on them too, huh?” I said.

“No, they’re always like that.” Phinus said.

“Always.” Ben repeated.

I chuckled, “Kinda funny, but I was talking to one of the Nakama players earlier and they actually mentioned these two—“

“That Masaru chump!?” Stax shouted as he slammed his hands on the table.

“He’s always slinging that sorta crap about us!” Max said. For once, the two brothers’ anger wasn’t directed at each other, “What, did he tell you we’re ‘immature’ or something?”

“Or that we ruin his ‘perfect peaceful games?” Stax threw in.

“You can tell Masaru to stick it!” Max said.

Stax nodded, “Yeah! Next time we see him, I swear we’re gonna—“

“It’s not actually slander if it’s true.” Ben interrupted, “He might not be saying it nicely, but he has a good point. You two do bicker a lot during our games, and it has costed us.”

The brothers glared at him.

“And can you not talk poorly about another player with a journalist around? This’ll probably end up in their article.” He gestured towards me.

“Oh no—this won’t be in the article!” I lied.

I then looked at my signed clipboard and beamed when I saw everyone’s signatures. Andre Meda drew a sharp star at the end of his, D’etoille Phinus dotted his ‘i’s with stars, the Spacex brothers were… So scribbly I could barely make out their names, Ben’s handwriting was absurdly neat, Vega S. Cométe drew a shooting star going over his name, while Neil Sagan drew one going through his name.

“How soon are you and Val leaving?” Andre asked, I looked over to see him leaning back with his hands behind his head, “And where is Val? I gotta say hi to her before you two head off.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s still in the VIP lounge, and we’re not heading off tonight-tonight, definitely the night Coach Black is hosting one of his tours, though.” I replied.

“Well, if you two aren’t in a rush tonight, you’re more than welcomed to hang around a bit after we close to get some interviews in.” He said.

“Really?!” I jumped.

“Sure, and you should totally check out the tour our coach gives.” He snapped his fingers and pointed at me with a wink, “Like Phinus said, it’s real cool, we’ll be helping around, and at the very end, Coach Black let’s ya look through his telescope.”

I stared back at my clipboard now adorned with Orion’s signatures and couldn’t help but smile even brighter.

“I’ll be there.”