"Brain food," his mum said, placing a plate of tuna rolls in front of him. "Omega-3. For the exam."

"Mum," Alex said, picking up a chopstick. "I don't have an exam today."

"You have a project!" she insisted. "Group project. With Maya. That is basically an exam."

Alex sighed. He ate the sushi. It was surprisingly good for 7 AM.

His dad walked in. He was wearing an Arsenal shirt.

"Ready for the weekend, Professor?" his dad asked.

"It's Friday, dad. No game today."

"But tomorrow!" his dad grinned. "Manchester United. At home. The revenge match."

Alex nodded. United. They had beaten them in the FA Cup. But the league was different. United were second. Arsenal were first. It was a title decider.

"Eat your fish," his dad said. "You need to be slippery."

School was quiet. Alex walked to the library.

Maya was already there. She had a giant poster board spread out on the table.

"Solar System," Maya said, not looking up. "Scale model. Calculations of orbital velocity."

"Right," Alex said, sitting down. "I brought glue."

"Glue is inefficient," Maya said. "I use tape. Double-sided. Maximum adhesion."

They worked for an hour. Alex calculated the orbits. Maya drew the planets.

"So," Maya said, sticking Saturn onto the board. "United tomorrow."

"Yeah."

"Their xG (Expected Goals) has dropped in the last three games," Maya said. "Rashford is underperforming against low blocks. But Fernandes is creating 2.3 chances per game."

Alex smiled. "You did a scouting report?"

"I analyzed the data," she corrected. "If you stop Fernandes... you stop the supply."

"Cut the line," Alex nodded. "Like I did with Modric."

"Exactly. But Fernandes is different. He drifts. He complains. He tries to distract you."

"I will ignore him," Alex said.

"Good," Maya said. "Also... Pluto is not a planet. Don't glue it on."

"Poor Pluto," Alex whispered, putting the tiny rock back in his pocket.

After school, Mark was waiting.

He was not in a car. He was not on a horse.

He was standing next to... a hot air balloon basket.

It was sitting on a trailer attached to a truck.

"UP, UP AND AWAY!" Mark screamed. He was wearing aviator goggles and a leather jacket.

"Mark," Alex said, staring at the basket. "Please tell me we are not flying."

"Not today!" Mark said. "The wind is wrong! But Milo bought it! 'THE SKY IS THE LIMIT'! Get in the truck!"

Alex climbed into the truck. "You are insane."

"I am visionary!" Mark yelled.

The training ground was tense.

Steve, the manager, gathered the team.

"United," Steve said. "They are angry. They are hungry. They want our spot."

He looked at the team.

"They will press. They will fight. But their weakness... is their temper."

He looked at Alex.

"Professor. Bruno Fernandes. He is their heartbeat. But he is also their fuse."

"Fuse?"

"If he gets frustrated... he explodes. He stops tracking back. He argues with the ref. He leaves gaps."

Steve smiled.

"Your job... is to light the fuse."

"How?" Alex asked.

"Be annoying," Steve said. "Don't tackle him. Just... be there. Stand in his space. Intercept his passes. Smile at him."

"Smile?"

"Yes. Nothing makes an angry man angrier... than a smile."

Alex nodded. He could do that.

Saturday. The Emirates.

The stadium was rocking. It was a sea of red.

Alex stood in the tunnel.

Bruno Fernandes was next to him. He looked focused. Intense.

Alex looked at him.

"Hi, Bruno," Alex said.

Bruno glared. "Don't talk to me."

Alex smiled. A big, polite, Professor smile.

"Okay. Have a nice game."

Bruno looked confused. He grunted and looked away.

The whistle blew.

The game started.

United pressed. They ran hard.

But Alex was the shadow.

Every time Bruno got the ball, Alex was there. Two yards away. Blocking the passing lane.

Bruno tried to pass right. Alex stepped right. Blocked.

Bruno tried to pass left. Alex stepped left. Blocked.

Bruno turned. Alex was there.

"Move!" Bruno yelled.

Alex didn't move. He just smiled.

In the 20th minute, Bruno tried a long pass. Alex jumped and intercepted it with his chest.

He controlled it perfectly. He passed it to Jude.

Jude drove forward.

Bruno threw his arms up. "He is everywhere!"

It was working. The fuse was lit.

30th minute.

Bruno got the ball. He was frustrated. He tried to dribble past Alex.

Alex didn't tackle. He just jockeyed. He waited.

Bruno pushed the ball too far.

Alex stepped in and took it. Cleanly.

Bruno fell over. He screamed for a foul.

The referee waved play on.

Alex passed to Antoine.

Antoine flicked it to Mark.

Mark ran.

He was one on one with Maguire.

Mark did a stepover. Maguire stumbled.

Mark shot.

GOAL!

One zero. Arsenal.

Mark ran to the corner. He pretended to blow up a balloon.

"RISING!" Mark yelled. "WE ARE RISING!"

Alex looked at Bruno. Bruno was yelling at the referee. His face was red.

The fuse was burning.

Halftime. One zero.

"He is losing it," Steve said. "Keep going. Keep smiling."

"It is hard to smile when he steps on my toes," Alex said, rubbing his foot.

"Smile through the pain," Steve said. "It annoys him more."

Second half.

United came out aggressive. They were fouling.

Casemiro hit Jude. Yellow card.

Shaw pushed Antoine. Yellow card.

They were losing their discipline.

60th minute.

Alex got the ball.

Bruno came flying in. A slide tackle from behind.

He missed the ball. He hit Alex's ankle.

Alex went down. It hurt. A lot.

He rolled.

He heard the whistle.

He looked up.

The referee had the red card in his hand.

Bruno was sent off.

Bruno went crazy. He shouted. He pointed. But he had to go.

As he walked off, he looked at Alex.

Alex was sitting up. He wasn't crying. He wasn't angry.

He looked at Bruno.

And he smiled.

Bruno kicked a water bottle and stormed down the tunnel.

The game was over. Ten men United couldn't stop the Hurricane.

75th minute.

Arsenal had the ball. Total control.

Alex passed to Jude. Jude passed to Mark. Mark passed to Antoine.

It was training ground football.

Antoine chipped a ball into the box.

Alex had made a run. The Ghost Run.

He was free.

He didn't let the ball drop.

He hit it on the volley.

Ideally, he meant to smash it.

But he mishit it. It came off his shin.

It bounced into the ground. It looped over the keeper.

It went in.

GOAL!

Two zero.

Alex laughed. It was a lucky goal. A "shin-pad special".

But they all count.

He ran to the corner. He pointed at his shin.

"CALCULATED!" he yelled. (It was a lie).

Mark jumped on him. "THE SHIN OF GOD!"

The final whistle.

Arsenal 2. Manchester United 0.

They were five points clear at the top.

Alex walked off the pitch. He was limping slightly, but he was happy.

Milo was in the tunnel. He was wearing a suit made of... balloons. Red and white balloons.

"THE BALLOON BOY!" Milo screamed. "WE ARE FLOATING! ALEX! THE SHIN GOAL! I AM SELLING SHIN PADS! 'THE FINCH SHIELD'!"

"Don't pop, Milo," Alex said, walking past him.

He went to the locker room.

He checked his phone.

A text from Maya.

"I saw the goal. The trajectory was... interesting. Physics suggests you got lucky. But the red card... that was calculated. Psychological warfare. A plus."

Alex smiled.

He packed his bag.

Mark was singing in the shower.

Jude was eating an apple.

This was his team. His family.

He walked out to the car park.

Mark's truck (pulling the balloon) was waiting.

"To the moon!" Mark yelled.

"Just to my house," Alex said. "I have to glue Saturn back on."

They drove off. The Professor had won another battle. And the Solar System project was due on Monday. Life was good.

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