"Efficiency," Alex whispered. "Taste is irrelevant."
Mark sat next to him. Mark was staring at the pasta with sadness. He pulled a small bottle of hot sauce from his sock.
"Mark," Mr. Kale said sharply. "No additives. The sauce contains sugar. Sugar is the enemy."
"But Mr. Kale," Mark argued. "Happiness is also fuel! If I am sad, I run slow. If I have spicy sauce, I am a rocket!"
"You are a professional athlete, Mark. Eat the broccoli."
Mark sighed. He ate a piece of broccoli. He looked like he was eating poison.
"I miss the school cafeteria," Mark whispered to Alex. "I miss the soggy pizza."
"We are in the big leagues now," Alex said. "We have to eat like champions."
"Champions deserve flavor!" Mark insisted.
The door opened. Steve, the manager, walked in.
"Enjoy your lunch," Steve said. "You will need the energy. We fly to Spain tonight."
The room went quiet.
Champions League. Semi-Final.
Real Madrid vs Arsenal.
The Santiago Bernabeu.
