He lifted his head and stared at his dad with his chin out. “Just let me finish the stupid game!” Mr. McMillan reached for Aidan again, rougher this time. Penny said a sharp “Hey!” in warning, and Mr. McMillan reluctantly let his son go.

“This isn’t up for discussion,” he said, through gritted teeth.

Another cheer went up, and it was so weird hearing the crowds roar with joy and smelling the scent of freshly cut grass on the cold salty air, while watching Aidan and his dad stare each other down. I could see a shine of tears come over Aidan’s eyes.

Aidan didn’t cry, but he did look behind his dad to Luca, opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t seem to get the words out. Luca gave him a gentle wave anyway, and then Mr. McMillan put an arm around Aidan’s shoulders and physically turned him away. The two of them headed toward where the police car was parked, with Penny trudging behind.

“Luca . . .” I started to say, but then an even louder cheer went up among the crowd—someone had kicked a goal and it drowned me out.

39

Your Own Compass

“Did you know?”

We were driving home. The Albanians had beaten the Australians 2–0 in both matches. They’d been quicker and more strategic, their crowd seemed to cheer louder, and nobody was that surprised or angry that our teams had been defeated.

And I wasn’t surprised at Luca’s question during the drive home.

“Winifred, did you?” he asked again.

The next day there’d be articles in the local paper about the game, one in English and one in Albanian. There’d be black-and-white photos, and Aidan would be in at least one—the game day pose of both teams lined up before the match, celebrating the community-led outreach.

He told me later that he’d cut the articles out and stuck them in his dresser drawer, underneath his socks and underwear. And when his dad grounded him, and said time and again how disappointed he was, Aidan would pull those articles out just to look at them and remember. He said they made him feel better.

I did not feel better during that car ride home, though. At least, not at first.

“Yes,” I said. “We knew that Aidan had pretended to sign the slip from his mom.”

Luca let out a long sigh.

“Aidan wanted to play, he—” I started to say.

“His dad’s mean!” Sam cut in. “He wasn’t going to let him play for stupid reasons, because he doesn’t like those people being here, and it wasn’t fair!”

Luca looked at Sam in the rearview mirror and shook his head. “You know Bill McMillan isn’t the biggest fan of what’s been going on here as it is,” he said. He meant the haven. “This move may have cost a lot more than you think.”