Alexs hands felt strange as he opened his U18 locker. It was empty.

He had already taken his things. The spare boots. The extra shin pads. His beat up water bottle.

His name was already gone, a small blank spot on the door.

He was just standing there, in the quiet, empty locker room, when the door swung open.

"There you are!" Sam yelled. "I was looking for you! Are you really leaving? You are abandoning me! Just like that! What am I supposed to do now?"

Sam ran over and pulled Alex into a huge, clumsy hug. "Who is going to play the magic passes? Who will I protect from angry defenders?"

Alex laughed, pushing his friend off. "I am just moving to the other building, Sam. Not to the moon."

"It feels like the moon," Sam grumbled, his face suddenly serious. "It is a big deal, Alex. You are the first one. The first one of us to go up. You are... you are like our representative."

"I will try not to mess it up," Alex said, his own voice feeling a little tight. He was going to miss Sam.

"You had better not," Sam said, trying to look tough. Then he grinned. "And you had better get me another shirt. That Antoine one is cool, but I want one from a player who is actually good."

"I will see what I can do," Alex smiled.

The door opened again.

It was Mark.

He stopped when he saw them. He was in his training kit, ready to go.

Sam suddenly got very quiet. "Oh. Hi Mark. We were just... you know. Saying goodbye."

Mark just grunted. He walked to his locker, which was right next to Alexs empty one. He started pulling on his boots.

The silence was heavy.

"Well," Sam said, backing away. "I will... uh... see you, Alex. Do not forget us little people!"

"I will not," Alex promised.

Sam practically ran out of the room.

Now it was just Alex and Mark.

Alex grabbed his bag. "Well. I am off."

Mark finished tying his boot. He stood up. He was still bigger than Alex.

He looked at Alex. He looked at the empty locker.

"So," Mark said. His voice was flat. "You are a U21 player now. You think you are a big shot."

"No," Alex said. "I just... I got the call."

"Yeah. You got the call." Mark crossed his arms. He looked... annoyed. Not jealous. Just annoyed. "You are not ready."

Alex felt a flash of anger. "I am ready."

"No, you are not. Your heading is still terrible. You are a duck. And you are slow. Those guys are all twenty years old. They are men. They will eat you alive."

"Thanks for the confidence, Mark," Alex said, his voice sharp.

"I am not here to give you confidence," Mark snapped. "I am here to tell you not to be embarrassing. You are from our team. You make us look bad, I will be angry."

He stared at Alex, his eyes intense.

"So do not be a duck," Mark said. "And do not be slow. And do not... do not get pushed around."

Alex was stunned. That was... that was the closest Mark had ever come to saying "good luck."

"I will try not to," Alex said.

"Whatever," Mark grunted. He turned his back and started taping his wrist. "Now get out of here. This is our locker room."

Alex just smiled. He shouldered his bag.

He walked out the door and did not look back.

He walked across the path, past the U18 pitch, and through the big glass doors of the main building.

The U21 locker room was just as he remembered. Quiet. Serious. It smelled like hard work.

His new locker was not in the corner this time. It was in the middle of a row. His name was on it. FINCH. Permanent.

He sat down and started to change. He felt a dozen pairs of eyes on him. He was, by at least two years, the youngest person in the room.

"Look who it is," a voice said.

Alex looked up. Ben, the big U21 captain, was standing in front of him. He was already in his kit. He was built like a small tank.

"The kid who got lucky," Ben said, but he was not smiling.

"Hi Ben," Alex said, his voice steady.

"I saw your goal against Millwall," Ben said, crossing his arms. "Another lucky hit. You are full of them, arent you?"

Alex did not say anything. He just focused on pulling on his socks.

"This is not the U18s, kid," Ben said, leaning in. "You are not a star here. You are a baby. You are just here to carry the water bottles. You got that?"

"I am here to play," Alex said, meeting his eyes.

Ben just laughed. A cold, short laugh. "We will see about that." He walked away.

Alex let out a slow breath. Okay. So that was how it was going to be. He was at the bottom of the mountain again.

He liked it. It made him hungry.

On the pitch, Coach Wilkins gathered them.

"Welcome Finch, who joins us full time," Coach Wilkins said, his voice as sharp as ever. "He is not a guest. He is not a mascot. He is a member of this squad. He earns his spot, just like everyone else."

He blew his whistle. "Rondo. Lets go."

The speed was just as fast as he remembered. Zip. Zip. Zip.

Alex was on the outside. He did his job. One touch. One touch. He was moving the ball. He felt good.

Then he passed the ball to Ben.

Ben passed it right back to Alex, but the pass was bad. It was hard, at his knees. A "hospital pass." It was designed to get him in trouble.

The two defenders in the middle saw it. They charged at Alex.

Alexs brain went into overdrive. He did not have time to control it.

So he just... jumped.

He let the ball fly between his legs.

The two defenders crashed into each other.

The ball rolled to the player next to Alex, who kept the drill going.

The entire circle went "Ooooooh!"

Alex just smiled. You have to be faster than that, Ben.

Ben saw it. His eyes narrowed. He was angry.

Coach Wilkins blew his whistle again. "Good. Enough playing. Small game. Eight versus eight. Bibs versus no bibs."

He split the teams. Alex was on the "bibs" team. Ben was on the "no bibs" team.

And Ben was marking him.

This was the test.

The game started. Alex could not breathe. Ben was everywhere.

He was not just marking him. He was physical. He had an arm on Alexs back. He was pulling his shirt. He was stepping on his foot.

"This is not the U18s, baby bird," Ben whispered in his ear, shoving him. "You are too weak."

Alex was getting frustrated. He could not get the ball. He could not turn.

His analyst brain was screaming. I cannot beat him. He is too strong. He is too fast.

His team was losing. Two zero. Alex had not touched the ball.

He was being bullied. Just like Mark said.

Do not get pushed around.

Alex got angry.

Okay, Ben. You are strong. But are you smart?

Alex started to run. He did not run to get the ball. He ran to a place where the ball would never go. He ran deep, towards his own defense.

Ben, like a loyal dog, followed him. He was so focused on stopping Alex, on bullying him, that he did not see what he was doing.

He was leaving the most important space on the pitch. The space Alex was supposed to be in.

The hole was huge.

Alexs striker, the same one from the first team game, saw the space. He ran into it.

Alexs teammate passed the ball.

Goal. Two one.

Alex did not even touch it. He just clapped.

"Good goal!" he shouted.

Ben was furious. He knew what Alex had done. "That was a trick!"

"That was tactics," Alex said, jogging back.

They started again.

Alex did it again. He ran to the wing. Ben followed him, his eyes crazy.

The space opened up. Zip. Pass. Goal.

Two two.

Now Ben was confused. He stopped following Alex. He stayed in the middle, telling Alex to come to him.

Alex just smiled.

Now he had space.

He started to play. He ran into the empty spots. He got the ball.

One touch. Two touch. Pass.

He was the pivot again. He was making the team tick.

Ben charged at him.

He is fast in a straight line. He is slow to turn.

Alex remembered.

He let Ben charge. Then he just popped the ball over Bens head, spun around him, and got it on the other side.

He passed.

Goal.

Three two.

The game ended. Alexs team had won. Alex had not scored. He had not assisted.

But he had controlled the entire game.

He was exhausted, his legs burning.

He was walking off the pitch.

"Finch."

It was Coach Wilkins.

"Your defending is still awful," the coach said, his face a mask.

"I know, coach," Alex panted.

"And you are still the slowest player on this pitch."

"Yes, coach."

"But," Coach Wilkins said. He almost smiled. "Your brain... it is very fast. You just beat my captain without even touching the ball. That was... interesting."

He tapped his clipboard. "You are starting on Saturday. Do not be late."

Alexs heart exploded. Starting. He was starting for the U21s.

He nodded, trying to look cool. "Yes, coach. Thank you."

He walked to the locker room. Ben was waiting by the door.

He still looked angry.

"That was a lucky trick, kid," Ben growled.

"It was a smart run," Alex replied, not scared.

Ben stared at him. Then, he just... grunted. "Your run was smart. But your nutmeg in the rondo... that was lucky." He turned and walked inside.

Alex stood there for a second. He was in. He was really in. He was tired. He was sore. He was at the bottom of a brand new, much bigger mountain. He could not stop smiling.

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