The bus ride home from Riverton was completely different from the trip there. The tense, focused silence was replaced by a loud, excited commotion. Music blared from a speaker at the back, and the players, fueled by pure adrenaline, chanted Mason's name repeatedly, teasing him about his "poacher's instinct."
Mason tried to keep up his tough facade, but a proud grin spread across his face. "Just showing you strikers how it's done," he shouted, making sure Callum could hear.
"Hey, it was a great pass!" Callum shouted back, grinning. "Even I couldn't have missed that!"
Ethan sat by the window, immersed in the triumphant noise of his teammates. He felt exhausted, his body sore from battling on the field, but his mind was clear. He watched the dark landscape rush by, replaying the game's final moments: Mason's lung-busting run, the perfectly weighted pass, and the thrill of the net bursting. They hadn't just won. They had faced the best team in the league on their home turf, in front of a tough crowd, and had shown their strength.
When they reached Crestwood, Coach Shaw was waiting by the bus. He didn't smile, but pride shone in his usually sharp, critical eyes. "A win like that takes more than talent," he said, his voice just audible over the celebrating players. "It takes guts. It takes character. You all earned that today. Now go home. Rest. I don't want to see any of you until Tuesday."
The next training session was the most intense they'd ever had. The victory had filled the squad with new confidence. Coach Shaw let them enjoy the moment for fifteen minutes before he called them into a huddle.
"Alright, that's enough," he said, and the team fell silent. "The win against Riverton was great. It puts us in the driver's seat. But it also puts a huge target on your backs. You are not the underdogs anymore. You are the team to beat. Every club in this league, starting with Eastfield on Saturday, will treat you like it's their cup final. Get complacent, and that win means nothing. The hard work starts now."
Later that evening, Ethan got home from training, already thinking about the upcoming game. He felt good. His new routine was working, his mock exam grades had been solid, and he felt in control. "Ethan," his mum called from the kitchen. "The post came. There are a couple for you."
He walked into the kitchen and stopped in his tracks. Two envelopes lay on the table. One was thick and familiar, adorned with the Three Lions crest of the national association. The other was cream-colored, made of heavy cardstock, and embossed with the crest of West Bromwich Albion, a big club currently competing for promotion in the Championship.
His heart raced in his chest. He picked up the England letter first, his hands shaking slightly. He tore it open. It was an official selection for the U16 squad for an upcoming international tournament in Spain. He was in. A wave of pride washed over him.
Then he turned to the other letter. This one felt heavier, more important. He carefully opened the seal and unfolded the letter inside.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Matthews,
After an extensive scouting process, we at West Bromwich Albion have been very impressed with Ethan's development. His vision, technical skills, and maturity on the pitch are qualities we believe fit perfectly with our club's philosophy. We would like to formally invite you and Ethan for a private tour of our academy facilities on...
He stopped reading, his eyes wide. It wasn't just a scout's notebook anymore. It was a date and time. A real invitation to the next level.
"What is it, love?" his mum asked, noticing his expression.
Ethan looked up from the letter, feeling like the future he had been chasing was right in front of him. "They want to meet me," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "West Brom. They want to talk about signing me."