Saturday morning came with clouds but no rain. Lucas stood at the edge of the dusty pitch of Grêmio Esperança, heart thumping like a samba drum.
Around him were over thirty boys, each one eyeing the others like rivals. They all had the same dream. Only two would get in.
Lucas wore his faded black shorts and a plain white T-shirt. His Mercurials—patched, worn, and bursting at the seams—looked like relics compared to the gleaming boots around him.
But he didn't care. His feet knew the ball.
His soul knew the rhythm.
A tall man in a blue Grêmio polo blew a whistle. "Warm up. Ten minutes.
Then we begin."
Lucas jogged, stretching his arms, scanning the crowd. Some kids looked stronger. Some faster. But he had something they didn't.
Magic.
The tryout started with drills—cone weaving, sprints, passing triangles.
Lucas did fine.
Not exceptional.
Not terrible.
But then came the scrimmage.
"Team blue, team white," barked the coach. Lucas was on white. The midfield. His position.
The whistle blew, and it was chaos.
Everyone tried to be the hero. Screaming for the ball. Sliding into tackles. Showboating.
Lucas waited.
He touched the ball once. Then twice. Found space. Passed with calm precision.
And then—it happened.
A pass came to him near the sideline. A defender rushed in, eager to impress.
Lucas tapped the ball behind his standing leg, spun, and left the boy grasping air.
The crowd of players murmured.
Coaches glanced up from their clipboards.
He wasn't done.
Lucas darted past two more, then chipped the ball over a fourth defender like it was nothing. A flick. A glide. A grin. Neymar style.
He didn't score. He didn't need to.
He danced.
When the whistle blew, Lucas walked off, breathing hard but smiling. Júlio ran over, eyes wide. "Bro... you killed that. Did you see their faces?"
Lucas shrugged, trying to play it cool, but his heart was bouncing. "They saw me."
One of the coaches, a bald man with sunglasses and a serious face, pointed toward him. "Santiago, right?"
Lucas nodded.
"We'll be in touch."
That night, Lucas lay on his rooftop, looking up at the stars. He didn't know if he'd made it. But he knew something had changed.
He had finally stepped into the game.
Chapter 4: The Call is next—Lucas will find out if his dream is just beginning… or already slipping away. Want to continue?