The bus started rumbling like thunder as it drove down a cobbled street. The buildings on either side looked like ancient skyscrapers all crammed together. Calum glanced up at a sign: The Royal Mile.
“Feeling worried, Caleytown’s gifted number nine?” Leo asked, punching Calum’s arm.
Calum tried to laugh through his nerves.
After a brief tour of the city, the bus finally pulled up in a car park, stopped and sighed like Calum’s dad when he flopped down on the settee. All the players stretched and yawned as they stood up to get off the smelly bus.
Jordan snatched his music mix back off the startled driver, just as Lewis barrelled past him to be sick again on the tarmac.
While Coach Brown went to check on Lewis, Mr McKlop shouted, “Welcome to Holyrood Park, ladies and gentlemen.” He pointed to the big, rocky hill behind him. “That’s Arthur’s Seat over there. It’s an extinct volcano.”
Calum remembered from an old lesson that Arthur’s Seat was supposed to look like a resting lion. From the park he could make out the outlines of a bunch of people perched on what must be its rocky head. There was a small loch across the road. The lion’s water bowl, Calum thought.
***
“Caleytown! You made it. Welcome to the annual Castle Rock Primary tournament!” A friendly woman spread her arms in front of them. Her name badge said: ‘Mrs Tait’.
She busied herself with Mr McKlop and Coach Brown, getting them to sign piles and piles of forms. While the teams waited, Calum nervously scanned the crowds of players, teachers and parents.
Off to the side, there were two big white tents: one for boys to change in and one for girls. There were also a couple of portable toilets, an ice-cream van and, of course, two back-to-back pitches all set up, ready for action. The corner flags flapped in the wind.
Next to one of the flags, Calum spotted a few kids wearing Scotland Stars t-shirts. He recognised Reiss Robertson from the interview they’d watched in training. He was talking to a player who had shades on and jet-black hair fixed with gel into a side parting. He was wearing a full Hibs tracksuit. Brandon Cramond, Calum thought. It had to be him.
***
“Right guys, let’s do this thing!” Coach Brown said as she led the girls’ team to their tent. Calum, Leo and Jordan walked together with Mr McKlop. Janek, Ryan, a sickly Lewis and the rest of the squad followed them towards the boys’ tent.
Out the corner of his eye, Calum thought he saw a fast-moving green shape coming towards them like a cat. Of course it’s not a cat, he thought to himself. There are no such things as green cats.
When he turned back around, Brandon Cramond was standing in front of Mr McKlop, with his shades on and his hand outstretched.
“You must be Coach Iain McKlop,” Brandon said, “formerly of West Lamont Primary? I’m Brandon Cramond.”
Mr McKlop stared at Brandon Cramond for a while, as if to make sure he was real.
“It’s Mister McKlop to you, Mr Cramond. Pleased to meet you.”
Calum and Leo stood there with their mouths hanging open. The rest of the squad looked on.
Brandon stared at Calum over his shades.
“You must be Calum Ferguson. I read that you scored a couple of good goals against Muckleton. I’m looking forward to seeing if you’re as ‘gifted’ as Scotland Stars F.C. says you are.”
Calum had never heard anyone his age speak like Brandon before. He had no idea how to respond.
“We can’t wait,” Leo said for him.
“Me too, Leo Nkwanu, me too,” Brandon said without missing a beat. Leo was taken aback but before he could respond, Brandon Cramond was off.
“See lads, he’s been preparing, just like you have,” Mr McKlop said.
Calum felt like someone inside his stomach had turned the dial marked ‘nerves’ up to ten.
“Wow,” Leo said, “if leopards could walk, talk, play football and wear bright green tracksuits, then that’s what they’d be like.”