notes:

they are obviously speaking dutch at the national camp, but i wasn't going to translate the whole thing so it's written in english

The week before international break always has a certain anticipation simmering away, especially for those who don't live in the country. We usually get to go home, speak our language, eat our food. My Spanish is improving with the combination of basic lessons and full immersion, but being able to understand everything everyone is saying at all times is something I am looking forward to. I miss being perceived as clever. I literally did VWO, but that is meaningless here.

Nothing can curb the growing excitement within the Barcelona team. Not even Alexia can make my smile disappear, though I'm sure she tries her best.

We win our game 4-0 on the eleventh. Lucy and I don't start, but Jonatan subs me on near the end of the first half, claiming the pitch looks empty without me on it. Alexia listens to our conversation as much as she can, and I can see the flicker of relief in her eyes as Patri comes off and not her. Claudia switches to playing in the middle so I can be on the right, and suddenly Barcelona has the whole width of the pitch.

I wonder whether Andries Jonker, our national team manager, will keep me on the right side. We play in a different formation to Barcelona, but Andries is still relatively new and might want to experiment. He hasn't spoken to me except for the confirmation phone call that I will be attending this camp and am on the squad for the tournament we are playing.

My suitcase gives me the perfect excuse to take the lift to the ground floor instead of going down four flights of stairs. I press the button, reading through the messages on our national team group chat while I wait. The lift dings and the doors open. Without looking up, I wheel my suitcase inside. As I step in, I hit a body.

"Disculpe." I get no reply. "Sorry," I repeat, in case this person doesn't speak Spanish.

"Your accent is terrible." She sounds familiar, so I move my gaze up from my shoes to meet her face. Of course it's her. "Do you feel that you need to injure me to get your position back?" I stare at Alexia, jaw hanging wide open, before I catch my slip up and clamp it shut. She uses her shoulder to get me out of her way, pushing past me to get out. She takes the stairs.

My flight is the same as Keira and Lucy's, which makes sense. We get to London Gatwick at five in the evening, and I arrive at the hotel two hours later.

The media team is there to greet me, and Anouk, our social media manager, tells me the team is eating right now. The bellboy takes my bag to keep with the others', because the rooms haven't yet been assigned.

"She's still on Spanish time, everybody!" Jill announces as I walk in late. There's an empty seat saved for me next to her which I gladly sink into. "Hola, chica. I love the tan."

I laugh. This feels natural. I'm glad no one is being all solemn out of respect for Scarlett (or lack there of?). I can only imagine the atmosphere around the England team.

"So are you going to officially become a right-mid now?" Damaris asks me, faking a worried look. "Or is that just to keep you out of La Reina's way?" She's provoking me, and we all know it. Players talk; most of them know Alexia and I aren't the best of friends. The rumours will be kept within the leagues, so it doesn't bother me that much if people are talking.

"I hate her so much," I groan, too tired to hold back. "She is a nightmare, and I don't get how they all love her so much. You know, she was so offended at the prospect of me being as good as her that she told our manager he had to be joking!"

"Fleur, you're not the one with a Ballon d'Or," Lieke reminds me. She and Alexia were friendly, so it's not like the woman has a vendetta against Dutch people. "You've got to be a bit arrogant to be the best player in the world."

"She needs to be reminded that the gap between her and me isn't as big as she thinks," I state. Second is not first, obviously, but I'm only second by a small margin. If I make sure to have an incredible international season, she won't be able to catch up. I have an advantage available.

"Jana was telling me that you are a very popular teammate at Barça." Jill grins when she says her girlfriend's name, to which everyone rolls their eyes. They aren't public with their relationship but we know. I kind of wish they kept it a secret from everyone, because she won't shut up about how amazing her girlfriend is. "And that quite a few of the girls find you attractive."

My stomach drops. Does Jill know about me and Scarlett?

The horror I am feeling is obviously displayed on my face, because Jill blushes and averts her gaze and the other girls are giving her a look I can't place. I wonder if they were talking about me before I arrived. They would have had to decide how to handle me, I bet.

Daan, who I didn't see when I first sat down (might be because she's so small), expertly steers the conversation onto a different topic, and we spend our time debating whether English or American TV shows are more entertaining. The food at this hotel is good. I'm sick of tomatoes and ham.

Andries leaves the staff table and makes himself visible to everyone, waiting for the cheering to die down before he begins his speech.

"Hi, everyone," he starts. Jill and I whoop loudly, to which he places his finger to his lips and shushes us. "Hi, Jill and Fleur."

"Are you going to sing for us?" I shout. Jill taps me on my shoulder and points to the phone in Anouk's hand. No doubt us two will be making the Instagram story again.

The rest of the team joins in. "Andries, sing!" He is actually quite good.

"Later," he says, knowing how to refocus a room of excited athletes. "First, I would like to say a few things." We quieten. "England only invites teams they think they will beat to this cup. We are going to give them a run for their money. We can end their winning streak, and we can win this trophy. I want us to be ruthless. We score, we win, we redeem ourselves."

We went from being the best in Europe to where we are now. Mark Parsons was fired after our disappointing Euro 2022 campaign. Andries does not want to suffer the same fate. He wants to give us a proper chance of winning the World Cup.

Spitse, as the captain, makes a speech of her own after Andries, and then is handed the list of room assignments. Jill and I both jump up in glee when we get roomed together, and Daan protests about being put next door with Lynn. I think camp will go well. 

We are playing Italy first. The game won't necessarily be easy, but I'm back on the left and the universe feels like it has been corrected.

I am stepping out onto the pitch for warm-ups when I catch sight of Jaimie in the stands. She's wearing so many layers that she looks like a ball of clothes ready to roll away at any particularly strong gust of wind, and you can barely see her face, but I know it's my sister because she is the only one that boos as we warm up near the end where our fans are. I give her a wave before aligning my focus to that of the game ahead.

We are ruthless from the minute the whistle is blown.

Lieke scores in the thirteenth minute, having been given a weighted ball from Jackie on the counterattack. She sprints past Italy's defence and easily beats the keeper, tapping the ball into the back of the net with what I am sure the commentators may call complacency. Then, three minutes later, the ball lands on my head and is suddenly flying past the keeper.

The first half ends with us up by three – Fenna Kalma having scored in the twenty-fourth minute from a very well-placed corner – yet we sit in the locker room with unsatisfied faces. We can do more.

Andries' half-time talk is upbeat and enthusiastic. Jill and I play a few songs for everyone to get more pumped up. We want to show the world that we are still the team that won the Euros.

The second half is competitive and intense. Italy seems to have collected themselves in defence and become harder to penetrate. They barely give us space to breathe, meaning we can't play the usual total football most of us were taught.

An Italian player goes down early into the second half, allowing us to regroup. "High press, Fleur more forward," is all Andries has time to say before play is being restarted.

We win the game five to one: three of our goals being from me. 

Andries asks me if I'd like to be Viv's replacement. He's joking but when they award me player of the match, I can't help but wonder what that would be like. Alexia and I wouldn't be at each other's throats then. I quite enjoy having someone to absolutely detest.

I approach Jaimie after completing my post-match interview, Jill and Daan trailing behind me. Jaimie has this weird knack for getting footballers (specifically my teammates) to adore her. They just can't get enough.

"Jill, Daan!" Jaimie squeals deliberately, a glint in her eyes. I haven't seen her face-to-face in months, but that clearly doesn't mean anything to her. I let the three of them have an animated catch-up, waiting to ask her what I've really been wanting to know. She won't tell me the truth in front of these two.

"Why are you here?" I doubt I sounded disgusted, but she acts like I did. "No, I love that you are here. But... why?" I definitely don't qualify as enough of a reason for Jaimie to come to England in February.

She mimes zipping her lips shut, locking them, and throwing away the key. "Couldn't possibly reveal. Maybe a bit later. You played too well for me to let you know my secrets too."

I shoot her a glare, but hug her anyway. I can barely feel her body under the layers of clothing. A photographer takes a few pictures of us together, which I'm sure Mum and Papa will love, and then I leave to sign autographs and take pictures and do all the other things an incredible footballer who is called up for their national team does. I wonder what Alexia is doing now. Since she isn't playing.

We get back to the hotel and finish our post-match meetings early. I eat dinner with Jill and a few other of the girls, and then Jill and I go to our room. We decide to push our beds further apart and build a den with the bedsheets in the space between — something we have done for a while now. She lays blankets down on the floor, and I find all the cushions in the room. We both crawl inside with her laptop set up so we can watch the second half of the England versus South Korea game. I barely pay attention to it, however, and Jill seems to notice.

I know what she is going to ask me before it forms on her lips, but I grant her the mercy of asking it anyway. Jill purses her lips and fiddles with a loose hair in her bun. The question is like an impending sense of doom. "Can we stop watching?" That was not the question I had in mind.

"Sure," I say, perking up. The game was boring me. "Do you want to–"

"I'm sorry Scarlett died." We both pause, my hand hovering over the laptop as the fans go wild after an English player scores. Jill waits tentatively, and I wonder if she has more to say on the topic. "That must have sucked." She does.

"It did, yeah," I respond dryly.

"I still don't understand what happened, you know. Jana was trying to explain it to me, but I can't believe it. It doesn't..." She trails off and I swallow weakly. "I had such a bad feeling that day, and I was going to send you a text to say goodluck and then I didn't and I feel like – well, I know it isn't but... I feel like it was my fault. It wasn't, I know! But, Fleur, I don't know how to process one of us dying like that. It seems so impossible."

It must have been scary for all of them. I would never go in for a header again if I hadn't known about her downplayed concussion from a training session two days earlier. Jill looks skittish, eyes widened and almost red. I don't want to comfort her. I'm too tired.

"If Jana died," she continues to my dismay, "I wouldn't know what to do. Like, how can you live without her?"

I would have had to regardless.

"I just get on with it. She is dead, Jill. Willing her to come back is not going to work, and I don't want to commit suicide. What else am I supposed to do other than carry on living?"

She tilts her head to the side, sitting up so the top of her bun pokes the sheets upwards. I smile, not knowing what more I can say for her to drop the topic. She understands me well. Jill, if anyone, would be my closest friend aside from Jaimie. We don't have to be in constant contact to maintain the ease of existing together, and I only sometimes get annoyed at her (for example, when she didn't have the balls to ask Jana out and I had to pretend to want a Catalan lesson and do it for her).

"Tomorrow, can we find a Pret? I've missed Pret." I sigh of relief slips past my self-control, but I don't think she hears. I'm glad she got the hint. "Jaimie said she was staying near one. We could go with her."

"I suppose we should go and tell Daan and Lieke and everyone else that we are going to do that tomorrow, then." They will want to come, no doubt. Something about that shop is fascinating and addicting and I have also missed it. "They're probably next door. Daan brought that weird card game with her again."

notes:

I went on holiday which is why I didn't post

I've fully planned out the Arnold Clark Cup so don't worry

The Netherlands simply takes the place of Belgium, though match scores are different (along with player of the matches and some other things)

if u were interested...

Italy vs the Netherlands

Score: 1-5

Italy goal: Giugliano 64'

Ned goals: Martens 13', de Voss 16', Kalma 24', de Voss 54', de Voss 90'

POM: Fleur de Voss