Never Really Over

Chapter 2

March 2013

John slides into his usual seat at the crowded table and immediately starts shovelling his cereal into his mouth – you have to eat quickly around here or not at all.

"Are you drinking this John?"

Before he can even react, Ross' hand has wound around John's glass of orange juice, and he can only watch helplessly as Ross swallows it in one gulp.

"You're an idiot," John mumbles through gritted teeth. Ross' only response is a smug grin – his unwavering confidence is sort of unnerving. "You love me really!" He sits down next to John, rubs his hand over John's tightly shorn hair – which he hates people doing – and launches into a conversation that John tunes out of.

Instead of listening to Ross talk about girls and what car he is going to buy when he finally makes the first team, John concentrates his energy on finishing his delicious breakfast of Shredded Wheat and skimmed milk. He misses home.

Home is 75 miles away. There's 75 miles separating his old life and his new one. It doesn't sound like a lot, but it certainly feels it; Barnsley and Liverpool seem a million miles apart. The funny thing is, ever since he was a little kid, he was totally adamant that he wanted to move to a big city, that he would be truly at home there, he couldn't wait to get out of Barnsley. But now he's in the big city, and it doesn't feel like home at all...

It's March, yet it feels as though winter is never going to end. A cold breeze nips at his cheeks and carries the sound of laughter from across the training pitches. Curiosity leaves him momentarily distracted; he takes his eyes off the coach as he drones on with as much enthusiasm as he can muster after being stuck training Everton's Development Squad for longer than he can care to remember and follows the laughter. In the not so far distance, he can see the first team preparing to being their training session, bursting with confidence and enthusiasm after winning at the weekend. That's where he wants to be.

"Stones? STONES?" It's several moments before John realises someone is talking to him. "Pay attention or you'll never be there." The coach cocks his head smugly towards the Premier League players John has been watching so enviously. John mumbles an apology, resisting the urge to make some snide remark about how the coach wants to be over there just as much as John does. He feels like he's back at school when he's here, it's so different to Barnsley where he was treated no different to player with years of experience behind them.

"I want you in defence today, Stones."

It's not getting any better, is it?! He must have missed the day he became a bloody defender.

It's not going well, and then, some idiot, almost breaks John's ankle with the stupidest tackle he's ever seen. John is thinking about suing or knocking him out. He hasn't decided which yet.

When the torture is finally over, John wants to ask the coach, Alan, why he thinks playing him in defence is a good idea, but he doesn't have the bottle. Instead, he trudges pathetically towards the dressing room.

"That was fucking pitiful," he kicks his boots off in frustration as soon as the door closes behind him. The fact that none of his teammates can barely mumble a denial proves that he is not far off the mark in his analysis. The only person who bothers to sympathise is a lad called Darren, and that's only because John has nicked his place at centre back.

The lunch menu in the canteen is just about as exciting as the breakfast one; Everton F.C. are clearly trying to build athletes of the future but John is pretty sure he'll have died of hunger before he gets anywhere near the first team. He is sitting down to a plate of rabbit food when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket – a text! Someone has remembered he exists. It is a really sad state of affairs when the thought of a text makes you smile but he is having a shit day.