September 3, 2012
"You trained with who?!"
Jesse's voice shot through the cafeteria like a misfired rocket.
Every head turned to the two.
Alex winced, tray in hand, awkwardly caught in the spotlight.
He hadn't even sat down yet.
"I didn't say anything," he muttered.
"You didn't need to!" Jesse waved his phone. "It's everywhere already! Rooney. Van Persie. You passed to Giggs! Giggs, bruv!"
Alex tried not to smile. Tried.
Curtis, seated two tables over, shot a look across the room. It wasn't anger. Not yet. But something simmered under the surface — disbelief? Resentment?
A few of the other lads — Reece, Charlie, even Sam Johnstone — began clapping as Alex slid into the seat next to Jesse.
"Big man," Charlie said, grinning. "Just don't forget us when you're sitting next to Fergie."
"He'll be too busy signing boot deals," Reece added, nudging him.
Even the normally stone-faced reserve keeper, Amos, gave him a respectful nod.
It was all happening fast.
"Alright, alright," Alex mumbled, suddenly shy. "It was just one session."
Jesse leaned in, eyes wide. "One session with the first team at Manchester United. You know what I was doing at your age?"
"You're still my age," Alex replied flatly.
"Exactly," Jesse said. "And you're the one getting texts from Wayne Bloody Rooney."
That part still didn't feel real.
Curtis stood slowly, tray in hand, and walked past their table. He paused just long enough to say without looking:
"Good for you, Marshall."
Then he walked away.
Alex turned, confused. "Was that… sarcasm?"
Jesse shrugged. "Mate, I've known that guy for years. If he ever says anything not laced in jealousy, I'll eat my boots."
Later That Evening – Marshall Home, South Manchester
"Mum, I said I'm fine—"
"You need to eat properly, love. You'll burn out. You didn't even finish your toast this morning!"
"I was nervous!"
"That's not an excuse to starve."
Alex laughed and tried to dodge the towel his mum swung at him playfully.
The house smelled like roast chicken, and for once, it didn't matter that the living room was still decorated like it was 1995. It was home.
His dad sat at the kitchen table, newspaper open, glasses halfway down his nose. He didn't look up right away.
"Trained with the seniors today?" he asked, casual.
Alex blinked. "Yeah. How'd you know?"
"Cleverley's cousin works with me at the garage. Word gets around."
Mum nearly dropped her ladle. "Are you serious?!"
Alex scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, just one session though. I didn't even know until I showed up."
"You trained with Rooney?" his dad asked, voice quieter this time.
"Yeah."
"Did he speak to you?"
"A bit."
A beat of silence.
Then, for just a second, Alex saw something in his dad's eyes. Not pride. Not just pride.
Hope.
"I watched him play the years ago, you were still a child," his dad said, staring at nothing. "FA Cup game. Knew he was special. Just like I knew you would be."
Mum sniffled and wiped her eyes with her apron.
"Oh don't start crying now," Alex groaned, laughing.
"I'm not crying," she said, clearly crying.
Then came a knock on the door.
Jaime.
His older brother stepped in, hoodie up, hands shoved in his pockets. "Heard you're playing with legends now."
Alex rolled his eyes. "Not playing playing. Just training."
"Still more than I ever got," Jaime said. His voice didn't sound bitter. Not really.
"Thanks," Alex said.
Jaime gave him a look. "Don't mess it up."
Then, after a pause:
"And tell Rooney if he ever wants to come round, I make a mean Sunday roast." Mom said.
Back in His Room – That Night
Alex lay in bed, phone on his chest, staring at the ceiling.
System Notification
New Trait Unlocked: "Local Hero – Level 1
"You are beginning to earn the trust of your teammates and your city. Gain small boosts when playing home games in Manchester.
+1 Morale (Home Matches)+1% Passing Accuracy when playing in front of a Manchester-based crowd
He smiled softly.
Outside his window, the city was asleep. But inside, something had been awakened.
And he wasn't going back.