The two weeks between the awards night and the national camp felt both long and terrifyingly short. The initial excitement about the invitation had faded, replaced by a constant mix of nerves and anticipation. The letter, with its official crest, rested on Ethan's desk. It was a reminder of the huge challenge ahead. He was no longer the top prospect from his region; he was about to become a small fish in an ocean full of sharks.
At school, the news spread quickly, and the pressure grew. Every "good luck" from a teacher and every "show 'em what you've got" from a classmate added to his anxiety.
The day before he was to leave, Ethan met Callum and Mason at the scruffy park in Eastfield where it all began. It felt worlds apart from Crestwood's perfect pitches, but it felt right. They kicked a ball around, moving easily and comfortably.
"Heard the guys they invite to these things are all giants," Callum said, trying a rainbow flick and failing. "You'll probably be the smallest one there."
"They're not looking for size, they're looking for talent," Mason shot back, easily taking the ball from Callum. He passed it to Ethan. "Don't try to be fancy. Just play your game. You see passes that nobody else does. Use that. And don't let them push you off the ball. If they see any weakness, they'll take advantage."
"And if you get a chance to shoot, take it," Callum added as he finally regained possession. "But don't set anyone up with a better pass than you give me."
Ethan laughed, the sound ringing out in the quiet afternoon. Their teasing, a blend of real advice and friendly competition, was the most reassuring thing he had felt all week. "I'll try my best," he replied.
The next morning, the car ride with his mum was silent. The familiar streets of Eastfield faded into the motorway, each mile taking him further from what he knew.
"Nervous?" his mum asked softly, keeping her eyes on the road.
Ethan simply nodded, looking out at the scenery rushing by. "What if I'm not good enough?"
"Ethan, think about how far you've come," she replied, her voice steady and comforting. "You walked into the Crestwood trials scared, and you left as a champion. All anyone can expect is that you do your best and be yourself. Everything else will follow. I'm proud of you no matter what."
Her words eased his anxiety, if only a bit.
After what felt like an eternity, they exited the motorway and followed signs for the National Football Centre. The entrance was grand and imposing. A long, winding road led them to a sprawling complex of modern buildings and what looked like an endless sea of perfectly maintained football pitches, each one greener than the last.
As they pulled into the parking lot, Ethan saw them. Boys his age were climbing out of cars, pulling bags with logos of famous Premier League clubs. They looked sharp, self-assured, and professional. They walked with a confidence Ethan had only seen in older players. One boy was juggling a ball with ease, while another laughed with friends all wearing the same elite academy tracksuits.
Ethan's mum stopped the car and turned to him. "Well," she said with a warm smile. "Here we are."
He took a deep breath, his heart racing. He opened the car door and stepped into the crisp air. This was it. This was the next level. The boy from Eastfield had arrived, and for the first time in a long while, he felt completely like an outsider again.