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"A tecla não está aqui!" ("The key isn't here!") she whispered. "Espere um minuto." ("Hold on a minute.")
Sliding her feet from her flip flops, and without an instant of hesitation, the woman began scaling the six-foot yellowish concrete wall. The others stood silently and watched. A few moments later, she slowly and quietly unhitched the latch and motioned for her overnight guests to enter. In silence, the group gingerly tipped up the long, winding flight of concrete steps until they arrived at the roof-level bedroom. Once inside the room, the girls let out a sigh of relief. Qiana kicked off her blue flip flops and changed out of her blue T-shirt and black miniskirt. Ordinarily, she would've dealt with the smoky smell of her hair, but she was exhausted and quickly fell into a sound sleep on the softest bed she'd ever felt.
After her three-day stay in Castela, Qiana spent her last three months in the elite Leblon with another teammate. She settled into a routine and began to focus on making the most of the rest of her time in Brazil. One of the most meaningful experiences she had was teaching a 10-week English course to her teammates. When she learned that they would have to pass an English equivalency exam to play for American colleges, Qiana took the initiative to design a basic language curriculum. Hour-long classes were held before practice every Friday for anyone who was interested.
As for her own growth and development, Qiana approached Paulinho before taking one of her daily runs on the beach. She'd watched him as he worked with the children he coached at his soccer school on the beach. When she explained why she was in Brazil and what she wanted to accomplish, he was glad to help strengthen her technical skills. With her team, Qiana played with and against world-class soccer competitors. She participated in championship games, and in two practices, she even had the opportunity to play against and get pointers from Donda, a famously formidable former player who was on the first Brazilian women's national soccer team.
The small-town South Carolina native basked in her good fortune and took nothing for granted -- even the small things, like the fact that her favorite restaurant, Zona Sul, was close to the beach. Almost every day after her run, she got to eat delicious chocolate chip cake -- for breakfast. Life wasn't good. It was fabulous. More significantly, she'd kept the sixth-grade promise to herself to not allow where she came from to hold her hostage. And, in doing so, she'd proven that anything was possible.
"Ready?" asks Kanye Burton.
"Yep," Qiana says as she swivels off of the Sports Arts Fitness Trainer bike where she'd just completed a 10-minute warm-up. She's wearing green shorts and the red and black Flamengo shirt one of her Brazilian teammates had given her a few months ago. Now, back in the States, she has returned to her routine.
Leaving the warm-up area, they walk into the workout room. Autographed pictures of entertainers and NFL players line the mustard-colored workout studio. Floor-length mirrors cover the far wall. To the left, above an array of weights, three clocks from various time zones look out into the room.
After closing the door, Kanye, her trainer, walks over to a big picture window and lets down the white blinds. Then, setting out two blue discs as markers, he asks Qiana to stand still. Bending down, he secures the velcro on the resistance chord to each one of her ankles and steps back. He hits the light switch. Dense darkness dances and dips to the bass-driven beats of "Shawty Get Loose." Suspended low to the floor, white orbs and shoelaces illuminate the blackness. Time is frozen. Momentarily.
"Ready. Set. Go!"
Feet flash forward as if fighting a fierce wind. With the Brazilian training and experience under her belt, Qiana wants to keep the momentum going. There are only a few paying women's soccer leagues worldwide. She has no choice but to be the best.
Competition is tight. Naysayers abound. Qiana isn't worried. What's important is that it's 7:15 on Tuesday morning. Time to train.