"You look like a boxer, Alex," she said, touching his cheek carefully. "A very small, very brave boxer."
"I blocked the ball, mum," Alex said, trying to chew without moving his face too much.
"With your face," she sighed. "Next time, use your foot. Or your knee. Or... someone else's face."
His dad, David, walked in. He was holding a newspaper. He looked like he had won the lottery.
"The Nose of God!" David roared, slapping the paper on the table.
The headline was huge. Below it was a picture of Alex, eyes shut, ball smashing into his face.
"It is not my best angle," Alex muttered.
"It is beautiful!" his dad said. "You saved the season! You saved the team! The Suit ripped up the contract! You are staying!"
"I am staying," Alex smiled. "But I have a physics project due today. And if I don't hand it in, Mr. Harrison will terminate my contract with school."
He grabbed his bag. He grabbed his project—a model of a bridge made of popsicle sticks.
"Bye mum! Bye dad!"
