Alexs dad did not drive him to the stadium this time.
This time, Alex rode on the big, quiet, first team bus. He was wearing his official club suit, the one Milo had sent. It was dark grey and fit perfectly. He looked, he thought, a little less like a schoolboy and a little more like... a professional.
He sat by himself, near the back. Bastian was in the front, asleep. Harry, the captain, was reading a book. The bus was silent. It was the calm before the storm.
Alex looked out the window. He was nervous. His heart was a small drum, beating a fast rhythm against his ribs.
This was not a fifteen minute appearance as a mystery kid.
This was his first start. At the Emirates. Against a tough, smart, Premier League team. The manager, Steve, was trusting him. He was starting a sixteen year old in place of a world superstar.
He looked across the aisle.
