Arriving In Costa Brava

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Jerry and Casey talked for quite a few minutes before the rest of the traveling squad arrived. Everyone hauled their bags into the team bus, which drove them to the airport. The squad was buzzing with energy, a mix of excitement and nerves. They boarded the plane, owned by Manchester United, and three hours after takeoff, they landed in Spain.

The moment the plane touched down, Jerry couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. This was his first trip with the team, and it felt surreal. He adjusted his bag strap and turned to Casey, who looked equally thrilled. "Can you believe we're actually here?" Jerry asked, his voice low but brimming with excitement.

"Not really," Casey admitted with a grin. "Feels like a dream."

Before they could say more, Tom, their manager, stood at the entrance of the plane, addressing the squad before they disembarked. "Alright, everyone, we're in a foreign environment," he began, his voice firm but calm. "That means nobody knows anywhere, and nobody should know anywhere. You're all minors, and while you're on this trip, Manchester United is responsible for you. That means no irresponsible decisions. For the duration of our stay, you are to alternate between three destinations: the team hotel, the team's training ground, and, last of all, whichever stadium we're playing at. I don't want anyone sneaking out or going anywhere that isn't one of those three locations. Got it?"

The team collectively nodded. Tom's tone left no room for argument, and the gravity of his words sank in. They were in a foreign place, and even though it might seem fun and adventurous, there were countless ways things could go wrong. Tom wasn't being overly cautious—he was being realistic.

"Now that I've gotten that out of the way…" Tom dragged his last statement long enough to open the door dramatically. "… Welcome to Spain!"

Jerry stepped out and took in a deep breath, smiling as the Spanish air filled his lungs. Though they were still in an airplane hangar and hadn't seen much of the country yet, the atmosphere felt different—exhilarating, even. He craned his neck to get a better view as they boarded the bus waiting to take them to their hotel. The scenery on the way caught his attention almost immediately. It was unlike anything he was used to—brightly lit streets, vibrant nightlife, and an air of liveliness that was contagious.

"Alright, lads," Tom said as the bus rolled through the streets. "Tomorrow's Saturday, and it's the first match of the tournament against Kawasaki Frontale. Kick-off is in the evening, maybe around five. I'd usually brief you on the starting lineups and everything tonight, but I'm guessing you lot must be tired from the long flight, so we'll save that for tomorrow."

Jerry tried to stay focused on what Tom was saying, but his eyes were glued to the world outside the bus windows. He saw a group of locals playing footy on the streets and couldn't help but smile. It reminded him of the countless hours he spent playing football back home. The idea of representing Manchester United in an actual tournament filled him with excitement, and he couldn't wait for the games to begin.

The bus finally arrived at the team hotel, a sleek and modern building that looked as though it had been plucked straight out of a travel magazine. Tom organized everyone into pairs for room assignments, explaining that it was meant to help foster better relationships among the players. Jerry silently prayed he'd be paired with Casey, but luck wasn't on his side. Instead, he was paired with Jester Clevelon, the team's best central midfielder and captain.

Jerry didn't know much about Jester beyond his reputation on the field. He was a phenomenal player and an outspoken leader, but the two had barely interacted. Jerry wasn't sure what to expect from sharing a room with him.

Once they reached their room, Jerry settled in quickly. He unpacked his things, ensuring everything was in its proper place. Afterward, he did a few yoga exercises to stretch out the stiffness from the flight and took a shower. By the time he was ready to sleep, he felt relaxed and at ease. Just as he was drifting off, he heard Jester's voice cut through the silence.

"I heard the gaffer say he's going to start you tomorrow," Jester said, his tone casual.

Jerry opened his eyes and turned to look at him. "If you wanted to prank me, you could've been a lot more clever about it."

"I'm serious," Jester chuckled, leaning back against the headboard of his bed. "You and the other new kid. We're playing against a relatively weak opponent, so he wants to give the two of you a chance to impress him. I overheard him talking to the assistants. He plans to take you both off at halftime unless you manage to exceed his expectations."

Jerry let the words sink in, trying not to get too excited. There was always the possibility that Jester was joking, but even the thought of starting filled him with a sense of accomplishment and excitement. Mostly excitement. He felt like a nine year old girl who just got a new doll.

"Why'd you tell me this?" Jerry asked, raising an eyebrow. It wasn't as though he and Jester were close. In fact, they hadn't spoken before this trip. There didn't seem to be any reason for Jester to share this information.

"I just didn't want you glaring at the gaffer like a serial killer when he announces the lineup tomorrow," Jester said with a laugh.

"It's called passion," Jerry replied, his voice dry but playful.

"Or maybe you're just a straight-up psycho," Jester teased, shrugging. "Either way, prepare yourself for tomorrow. Mentally, I mean. It's a big opportunity."

"Thanks, Jester," Jerry muttered, still processing what he'd just heard.

"Call me Cleve," Jester said. "And you're welcome."

The room fell silent again, but Jerry couldn't sleep immediately. His mind was racing, running through the possibilities of what tomorrow might bring. If Jester was telling the truth—and he hoped he was—this was his chance to prove himself. Starting a match for Manchester United, even in a youth tournament, was a dream come true. He thought about his family back home and how proud they'd be if they knew.

Jerry turned to look at Jester, who was scrolling through his phone, seemingly unbothered. "Hey, Cleve?" he called out.

"Yeah?" Jester responded without looking up.

"Why'd you actually tell me that?" Jerry asked, genuinely curious. He wasn't used to someone going out of their way to help him without a reason.

Jester paused for a moment before setting his phone down. "Because I see potential in you," he said simply. "You remind me of myself when I first joined the squad—hungry to prove something. Plus, the team's better when we're all pushing each other to be the best. You doing well helps all of us."

Jerry nodded, his respect for Jester growing. He hadn't expected such a candid answer, but it made sense. Football was a team sport, and success relied on everyone working together.

"Thanks," Jerry said again, more sincerely this time.

"Don't mention it," Jester replied with a small smile before returning to his phone.

Jerry finally closed his eyes, a sense of determination settling over him. Tomorrow wasn't just another game—it was the beginning of something bigger.

A/N: Remember:

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