"Dad, you missed the turn," Alex said quietly.

"I did not miss the turn," his dad said, his voice tight. "I am... taking the scenic route. Checking the... traffic."

"Dad, you are sweating," Alex said.

"It is a warm day," David muttered, wiping his forehead. "Now, listen to me, Alex. These agent people. They talk fast. They promise the world. You do not say yes to anything. You do not say anything. You just... listen. And look smart. I will do the talking. Understood?"

"Yes, dad," Alex said. He was not nervous. His analyst brain was excited. This was data. A new, strange, important set of data.

They found the building. It was not an office. It was a giant tower of glass in the middle of the city. It looked like it had been built by aliens.

They walked into the lobby. It was all white marble. A woman who looked like a supermodel sat at a giant white desk.

"We are... uh... here to see... Milo," his dad stammered, pulling at his collar.

The woman just smiled. "Mr Finch? Of course. Fiftieth floor. He is expecting you."

Fiftieth floor.

They got into the elevator. It was silent and so fast it made Alexs stomach flip.

The doors opened into a huge, bright room. It was not an office. It was like a giant, futuristic living room. There were signed shirts on the wall. A giant TV was playing a football game.

"David! Alex! Come in, come in!"

A man came bounding towards them. He was not old. He was probably the same age as Alexs old self, thirty two. He was wearing bright white trainers, expensive looking jeans, and a sharp blazer. He had perfect teeth and a watch that cost more than Alexs house.

This was Milo.

"A pleasure. A real, real pleasure," Milo said, shaking Davids hand so hard he almost fell over. "And this is the man. The brain! Alex Finch!"

Milo grabbed Alexs hand and shook it. His energy was like a small explosion.

"I am so glad you came. Coffee? Water? A protein shake? No? Good. Lets talk."

Milo bounced over to a big leather sofa. "Sit, sit! Make yourselves comfortable."

Alex and his dad sat down. They both sat bolt upright, like they were at a school assembly.

Milo did not sit. He paced. He was like a panther.

"So," Milo said, his voice suddenly all business. "Here it is. I will not waste your time. You are sixteen years old, Alex. You have just made your Premier League debut against Manchester United. Your life is about to change. My job... is to make sure it changes in the right way."

His dad cleared his throat. "Now, Mr Milo..."

"Just Milo, please, David. We are partners."

"Milo. We are... we are just looking," his dad said. "We are not signing anything today."

"Of course not!" Milo laughed. "This is not a signing. This is a presentation. I am here to apply for a job. The job... of guiding your sons career."

He clapped his hands. The giant TV on the wall suddenly stopped showing football.

Alexs face appeared on it.

It was a highlight reel.

There was his pass to Mark in the derby.

There was his "stunned duck" header drill. No, not that.

And then... the Manchester United game.

The video slowed down. It zoomed in.

"The Bruno turn," Milo said, his voice full of wonder. "We call it the Bruno turn. At sixteen. In your debut. You did not just beat him. You embarrassed him. Do you know how many views that clip has, Alex? Twelve million. In two days."

Alex felt his face go hot. Twelve million.

"You are not just a player, Alex," Milo said, his eyes shining. "You are a story. And stories... are what sell."

He clicked a button. The screen changed. It was full of data. Graphs. Charts.

Alexs analyst brain sat up. He was leaning forward.

"Your pass completion is ninety four percent. You create two point five key chances per game. But this... this is my favorite." Milo pointed. "You have a ninety percent success rate on defensive pressure. You are not a traffic cone. You are a genius. You know where the ball is going. You do not tackle. You intercept."

Alex was stunned. Milo was not just an agent. He was an analyst. He was speaking Alexs language.

"You are not the next superstar," Milo said. "You are the first Alex Finch. You are 'The Pivot'. 'The Brain'. You are the kid who plays like he is thirty. That is the brand. Smart. Calm. Deadly."

"A brand?" his dad asked, looking confused.

"Of course! The brand is everything!" Milo said. "Now. Here is the plan."

The screen changed again.

"First, a new contract. The club will offer you one. It will be small. We will reject it. We will demand a 'first team pathway' clause. A 'loan approval' clause. We will not ask for money. We will ask for opportunity."

Alex liked that.

"Second," Milo said. "Sponsors."

He clicked. A picture of Alexs bright green boots appeared.

"These," Milo said, his face full of disgust. "Are terrible. They are the free boots the academy gives everyone. They are... cheap."

A new picture appeared. It was a sleek, black, beautiful football boot. From the biggest sports company in the world.

"This," Milo said, "is the new 'Finch' boot. Well, it is not. It is their new 'Control' boot. But you... you will be the face of it. The 'control' player. The 'brain' player. We have a meeting with them next week. They want you. They want the 'Bruno turn' kid."

Alex could not breathe. His own boot deal.

"And finally," Milo said. He clCked. The screen showed a picture of Mark.

"Mark. The striker. Your U18 partner," Milo said.

Alex froze. "What... what about him?"

"He is fast. He is strong. He is... okay," Milo said, waving his hand. "But he is better with you. You are a package. We bring him with us. We tell the club, Alex needs his partner. We link your careers. It is a good story. The 'Brain' and the 'Speed'. We can sell that."

Alex was completely floored. He had come here worried about his own future.

Milo was offering to bring Mark with him.

"I... I do not know what to say," Alex said.

"You do not say anything," Milo smiled. "You just... think. I will handle the rest."

He clapped his hands again. The TV went blank.

"That is my pitch, gentlemen," Milo said. "I am not just an agent. I am a project manager. And you, Alex... you are the most exciting project I have seen in ten years."

He handed a thick, fancy folder to Alexs dad.

"This is the paperwork. It explains everything. Our fees. Our plan. Show it to a lawyer. Take your time."

He walked them to the elevator.

"It was a pleasure, David. A real pleasure. And Alex... keep working on that defending. It is the only part of your data I do not like."

He winked. The elevator doors closed.

Alex and his dad stood on the street outside. The world was loud again. Taxis were honking. People were rushing.

They just stood there, stunned into silence.

His dad looked down at the thick folder in his hand. He looked at Alex.

"He... he talks fast," his dad said.

"He does," Alex agreed.

"A boot deal," his dad whispered. "He said... a boot deal."

"I know."

"And Mark. He wants to... to help Mark, too."

Alex nodded. His mind was racing. Milo was not just slick. He was smart. He had seen the partnership.

His dad suddenly looked very serious. He put his hand on Alexs shoulder.

"Alex," he said. "This is... it is all happening very fast. Are you... are you okay with this? This is your life. Your choice."

Alex looked at his dad. He saw the pride. But he also saw the fear. His dad was scared for him.

Alex thought about his old life. The boring office. The missed chances. The regret.

He thought about the feeling of the grass at the Emirates. The roar of the crowd.

He looked at his dad and smiled. A real, confident, analyst smile.

"It is a lot, dad," Alex said. "But... I think he is right. He is an analyst. He sees the whole picture. I think... I think I need a guy like that."

His dad just nodded slowly. "Okay, son. Okay. Lets... lets go home. Your mum is going to want to hear all about this."

Alex walked into the training ground the next day. He felt different. He felt... professional.

He had his U21 game at the weekend. He was focused.

He walked into the canteen.

He saw Mark. Mark was sitting alone at the U18 table. He was not eating. He was just stirring his food.

Alex grabbed his own food and walked over.

Sam was not there. It was just Mark.

Alex sat down.

Mark did not look up.

"So," Mark grumbled into his plate. "Did you go? To the fancy office?"

"I went," Alex said.

"And?" Mark looked up. His eyes were not angry. They were not jealous. They were... scared. "What did the agent man say? He wants you, right? He is going to make you a superstar."

Alex looked at his friend. His partner. His rival.

"He did," Alex said quietly. "He offered me a contract. And... he offered me a boot deal."

Mark just flinched. He looked down at his own, beat up, academy boots. "Wow," he whispered. "A boot deal. That is... that is it, then. You are gone."

"No," Alex said. "Not yet. I have not signed anything."

He took a breath.

"He... he also talked about you, Mark."

Mark looked up, his eyes wide. "Me? Why?"

"He watched our games. He saw the data," Alex said. "He said... he said I am better when I play with you. He said you are fast and strong. He said... he wants to represent you, too."

Mark just stared. His mouth was open.

"Me?"

"He said he wants to sell us as a package," Alex said, trying not to smile. "The 'Brain' and the 'Speed'. He said it is a good story."

Mark did not say anything. He just looked at Alex.

Alex saw an emotion in Marks eyes he had never seen before.

It was not anger. It was not jealousy. It was... gratitude.

"So," Mark said, his voice suddenly thick. He cleared his throat. He stood up. "A package, huh? The 'Brain' and the 'Speed'."

"Yeah."

"That is... that is stupid," Mark said, trying to sound tough.

"I know," Alex smiled.

"But," Mark said, grabbing his tray. "He is not wrong. You are better when you play with me. You would be nothing without my runs."

He started to walk away.

"Mark," Alex called out.

Mark stopped.

"We are still training this afternoon, right? My heading is still terrible."

Mark looked over his shoulder. He almost smiled.

"It is awful. You are a duck. Four o'clock. And do not be late. I am a... a professional package. I do not have time to waste."

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