Alex sat in the back of Mr. Evans' geography class. It was Tuesday.
The room was hot. A fly was buzzing against the windowpane.
"Istanbul," Mr. Evans said, pulling down a map. "A city that straddles two continents. Europe and Asia. A meeting point of cultures. Of history."
He looked at Alex.
"And, apparently, the meeting point of the two best football teams in the world."
The class turned to look at Alex. They didn't giggle anymore. They looked at him with awe.
Alex Finch. The boy who sat in row four. The boy who was going to play in the Champions League Final on Saturday.
"Are you ready for the tectonic shift, Mr. Finch?" Mr. Evans asked.
"I am ready for the travel, sir," Alex said. "It is a four-hour flight."
"And Real Madrid?"
"They are... a very large mountain," Alex admitted.
"Well," Mr. Evans smiled. "Don't forget to pack your compass. You might get lost in their midfield."
School finished. Alex walked out.
There was no neon car today. No hearse. No horse.
