Peter Soccer

Chapter 3

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Peter was coming on as a substitute in a game for Belvert. He heard the coach yell,

“Peter, get ready. You’re coming on.”

“Yes, Coach,” he said as he struggled into his jersey and made the change.

Almost immediately, the ball got to his feet. For some reason, without thinking, he released his shot. _Boom_ — goal!

He ran off to celebrate with his teammates, everybody patting him on the back. Suddenly, they didn’t stop… it began to almost feel like they were beating him up. In the throes of pain, he heard:

“WAKE UP, DUDE!!!”

Peter’s eyes slowly opened. There was another boy staring down at him with brown eyes and thick eyebrows. It was his roommate.

For a moment, Peter looked numbly at him, still trying to grasp what had happened. It soon dawned on him that he had been dreaming. A mixed feeling of anger washed over him.

“We’re gonna be late if you don’t get up right now,” the boy’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Then he realized — the boy was right. He _was_ going to be late.

He quickly jerked up from the bed as though he was just understanding for the first time.

A million thoughts washed through his mind as he dashed into the bathroom, apologizing to his roommate.

It was the first day. He had only gotten here the previous evening, like most newly admitted kids. He was supposed to be at the training field _about five minutes ago_, yet he hadn’t woken up early. _Oh my God_, he thought. _I’m gonna be late! On my first day!_

“Uhhhh,” he groaned aloud.

In about five minutes, he dashed out of the bathroom soaking wet.

He shared his room with another guy — he couldn’t remember his name. But the guy had been kind enough to wait and try to wake him up. They shared a bunk bed; he slept on the top. They had two wardrobes with their numbers written on them.

He quickly put on his tracksuit. The boy came in again — he had left by the time Peter was out of the bathroom. He was holding something in his hand.

“Hey, it’s for you. You missed breakfast.”

Peter had already made peace with the thought of going without breakfast, but this was even better.

“Oh my God, man. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Hurry up. Coach is gonna be pissed.”

“You bet,” he mumbled as he munched the pancakes.

Soon they were both racing off to the dressing room where they got changed into their jerseys and shorts.

Then, another sprint to the training ground.

As expected, almost everyone was already there. As soon as the coach saw them both, he blew his whistle, signaling a pause in the game.

He turned to face them both, and with him, hundreds of other eyes.

Peter threw his face down in dismay.

“Good morning, Coach,” he found himself muttering.

“Well, I guess nothing’s gone good this morning for both of you to be this late to training — on the first day, by the way,” he barked. When he spoke, his eyes widened with every word, and his mustache was so thick it covered a bit of his upper lip itself!

On another day, Peter would have made a joke about it. But not today.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” Peter said.

“Well, you should be sorry. I mean, it’s your first day. Talk about a first impression,” he said, turning his gaze to the second boy.

“Sir, I’ll try to make it up—” Peter was interrupted by the coach’s signal to shut up as he stared menacingly at Peter’s roommate.

“And you, Will.”

_Yes, that was his name_, Peter remembered.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Peter interjected.

“No, sir, Will is—”

“As late as the new kid,” Will interrupted Peter, who looked extremely surprised.

Will didn’t even blink.

“Well, you know the drill, Will,” the coach said.

“Yes, Mr. Tim,” Will replied. Mr. Tim turned to the crowd of boys behind him and asked,

“Because they were late to training, what’s the reward?”

“Ten laps each, sir!” a tall, lanky-looking boy replied with a proud look before adding, “After that, they will do the required five laps for warm-up,” he said, beaming with pride.

Peter already hated him.

Mr. Tim turned to them and said, “Well, you’re already late, so don’t waste any more of my time and get to it!”

“Yes, sir!” they both chorused as they began running laps around the field and the others resumed training.

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They ran their laps in silence until a ball from the field hit Peter in the face. He stumbled and turned to see who had done it.

It only took one guess. It was the lanky boy from earlier, as he came closer to get the ball from Peter.

Peter couldn’t hold himself back. He shoved him backward. The boy shoved back. Will quickly intercepted before it got worse.

“All right, knock it off, you two,” Will said before it attracted the coach.

“Go play trick shots somewhere else, Preston,” Will said to the lanky boy.

“Yeah, Preston, go play somewhere else,” Peter added.

Preston just smiled at them both and returned to training.

As they were about to continue their laps, Will said to Peter,

“Hey, uh… what’s the name?”

It was then that Peter realized Will didn’t know his name.

“Oh, wow. It’s Peter… Peter Adams.”

“Yeah, Peter. Try not to get us into any more trouble,” he replied.

“I’ll try.”

“Oh, and I’m William Robert, but everybody calls me Will,” he said.

“Okay, Will. No more trouble. I promise.”

They continued running.

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After what felt like an eternity, they had run their laps. They both sat aside, getting hydrated while watching the others train. It didn’t take long for Coach Tim to notice they were finished. Almost immediately, he called to two of the boys.

“You two, take a break,” he said, then turned to Peter and Will.

“You two — you’re on.”

Peter opened his mouth to argue but decided otherwise.

He and Will took up their positions on opposite wings.

Looking from across the field, they both exchanged smiles. Just when Peter thought this morning might still be salvaged, he heard a now-familiar voice.

“Hey, newbie, get me the ball.” Of course it was Preston. He was the striker. Peter couldn’t believe it. He didn’t reply — just shrugged. He wouldn’t let some spoiled coach’s pet ruin his first training session. A part of him reminded him: _You ruined it yourself._

As the training wore on, Peter started getting more into the game. He was hoping to make an impression soon enough. So when the ball next came down his wing, he took it in stride, weaved past his marker. As Preston made a run inside, he thought about giving him the ball, but then he spotted Will unmarked at the back post. He whipped in the cross, which Will tapped home. Most of the teammates clapped as Will and Peter embraced.

The next chance fell to Preston. He had the ball but was well marked by about three opponents. Peter made a nice run inside, but Preston ignored him. With just one look at the goal, he released a shot which flew into the net. Peter was so amazed he muttered to himself,

“He’s good!”

Soon Peter’s team won a corner. It was taken short, and as the ball fell to Peter, he decided to cut inside and shoot... The effort came off the bar. Peter groaned a bit, then he heard Preston say,

“Not good enough!”

Peter ignored him but instead muttered,

“Something Dudley would’ve said.”

“Who’s Dudley?” Will asked. Peter hadn’t realized he’d been so loud.

“Oh, he’s — you know what, never mind,” he said as he ran back to position.

The next chance for Peter came almost immediately. He beat his man again and cut inside. This time there was no mistake — top bins!

A lot of his teammates seemed impressed. Peter was simply relieved to have scored.

By a few minutes past twelve, Coach Tim ended the training session. Everyone went for a bath, after which they headed to the dining hall for lunch. After lunch, they continued the training session — this time set pieces and passing drills.

After dinner, everyone went to their rooms. As Peter lay on his bunk, he was thinking of calling Nyla. He had promised to call her the previous day and hadn’t. He remembered what he went through today, then he remembered he couldn’t have done it without Will.

“Hey, Will,” he called to him.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks again, for today. It really means a lot.”

“You’re welcome. Just try not to repeat it tomorrow, okay? That would be nice.”

“No problem.” His phone beeped. It was Nyla. He picked up and spoke almost instantly.

“Hey, I was just about to call you!”

“You know, I think I felt it,” she joked.

“So how was your first day?” she asked.

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe the day I had.”

“Tell me all of it,” she replied excitedly.

“So this morning I had a dream where I had the best first day ever, only to wake up and have the worst!” She laughed loudly. Peter continued,

“So I turned up late to training on my first day… and there was this boy… then I scored…”

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