Taking The Long Way Around - Chapter One
August 1993
When Xabier Alonso’s parents had told him that they were moving to England, one could have said that the boy was shocked and disappointed, even angry. But that would have been an understatement. Xabi felt completely devastated. His mother tried to explain to him the reason why they were moving (his dad had gotten a job offer from some town called Liverpool), but he didn’t care about the reasons. He didn’t want to leave his hometown.
He couldn’t believe that his parents were doing this to him. Not only were they dragging him away from his family, friends and everything he knew and loved, they were taking him to a country he had never been to and the language of which he didn’t understand.
But, although he didn’t want to admit it to his family, now that they were on the plane to Liverpool he couldn’t help but feel excited about the moving and little butterflies were flying around his stomach. It was his first time on a plane and Mikel, his older brother, kept teasing him about gazing continuously through the little window to get a good look at the views. Xabi didn’t care though, he was going to England!
He stepped out of the taxi and took his first look at the Landsdown View. This was his street now; his home. Everything looked quite different from what he had gotten used to in Spain. There were similar looking houses in long rows and the gardens were taken good care of. While he was looking around and his parents were having a conversation in Spanish with his brothers, a boy walked down the road; a boy with thick, brown hair, lovely eyes and a bright red football kit. The young Spaniard couldn’t help but stare at the boy who didn’t even seem to notice them (which in Xabi’s point of view was impossible, because his parents were talking extremely loudly).
Xabi didn’t see the boy after that, though somehow he wanted to. He had played football in Spain and had thought he could continue playing in England; the problem was that he didn’t really know any football clubs. He had heard of Liverpool and Everton, but how on Earth was he supposed to know which club he should join?
Xabi spent the rest of his summer vacation improving his English; he studied grammar, learned new words and practised those little things he already knew with Mikel, who’s English was better than his. But nothing could prepare him properly for what was coming.
September 1993
He had never felt so nervous about going back to school; usually he was excited about meeting everyone again and he actually liked learning new things. But when the morning of his first school day finally arrived his mother had to practically drag him out of bed and into the bathroom. Even having a warm shower, which usually managed to relax him, didn’t help. He went downstairs for breakfast and tried to eat something, but couldn’t; the feeling of anxiety in his stomach was far too overwhelming.
When he finally arrived at the school, the whole schoolyard was empty. Xabi knew that he shouldn’t be late on his first day; it didn’t really give a good first impression. Knowing that the headmaster was already waiting for him and not knowing where to go didn’t make things any better. He felt like he might throw up soon; he sat on the bench beside him and rested his head against his hands.
After just sitting there for a few minutes Xabi realised that he wasn’t alone anymore. The first thing he noticed were the footsteps that echoed in the deserted yard although he didn’t look up. The second thing was the smoke that came from a cigarette; the smell he didn’t like made him lift his head up to see who was coming. When the Spaniard noticed that not only was the boy who was walking towards him the same one he had seen that day couple of weeks ago wearing the football kit (yes, it was definitely the same guy, he had the same bright blue eyes), but he was only a few metres away from him. He panicked. The boy had most likely been sent to fetch him and he was probably very angry with him and Xabi didn’t really know what he should say to the boy if he started talking to him.
“You look like you’re lost," the boy said and now that he was right in front of Xabi he noticed there were no signs of anger on his face. It took a moment for the Spaniard to make out what he had said. Lost: that was a word he had heard before.
“I...I am finding. No, I am looking for... the room.” Xabi felt like smacking himself. Why was this so difficult for him?
“You have to be a little more specific with me, lad.” The blue eyed boy smirked and blew some smoke right to Xabi’s face; although he tried to fight it, he couldn’t help but cough. Great, now he’s laughing at me. Xabier, you are an idiot.
“So, what are you looking for? Some classroom maybe? The toilets? The headmaster’s office?” When he recognised the familiar word, Xabi’s face lightened up and he breathed out a quiet sí. As soon as he realised that the boy probably didn’t understand Spanish, he repeated his answer in English.
“I can take you there, if you let me finish this first, okay?”
When Xabi didn’t say anything, just nodded almost invisibly, the smoking boy decided to ask him more questions to fill up the silences.
“So, you’re new here, right?”
Xabi stared at the distance, trying not to get any more smoke into his lungs and nodded again.
“Did you just move to Liverpool?” he asked again and this time the Spaniard looked up at him and gave a proper answer.
“Yes, from Spain.” He was meant to say Basque country, but he thought that the other boy had probably never even heard of it. Xabi stared at the boy, who didn’t meet his gaze; he was too occupied with smoking his cigarette. When he was done, he dropped the cigarette stub to the ground and put it out with his foot.
“I’m Stevie, by the way. Steven Gerrard.”
“My name is Xabier Alonso. Just Xabi is fine.” While they were walking to the office, Stevie continued asking his questions. He didn’t want to walk in silence but the Spaniard didn’t seem to be able to start a conversation.
“How old are you anyway?” he inquired, hoping that the Spaniard wasn’t as hopeless with the language as he seemed to be this far. Xabi processed his question for a moment, but was finally able to give him an answer.
“14. 15 in noviembre... I mean in November” Xabi answered, getting now even more anxious, because they were reaching the building.
“Really? You look a lot younger than that, but you’re actually as old as I am,” Stevie said and Xabi didn’t know if he should be offended by the comment or not. As they reached the door that led into the headmaster’s office he decided not to. When he noticed that the young Spaniard looked like he was about to puke, Stevie encouraged the shy boy.
“It’s going to be okay, you know, although you are a little late. The Head's quite nice when you get to know him. He won’t eat you alive or anything.” Stevie grinned, but the dark boy looked like he hadn’t understood half of what he had just said, so he just tapped his back. Xabi bowed his head as Stevie offered him that friendly gesture and when he looked up again, the other boy was already walking away.
The moment Xabi stepped into the office (after politely knocking on the door) he noticed two things. First was that he wasn’t alone with the headmaster: there was another boy in the room, a boy who was taller and older than he was and whose hair was blond and eyes blue. The second thing was that to his horror the boy was wearing a school uniform. Not that he had anything against them, but no-one had bothered to tell him that he should have one. And now he was standing there, wearing his regular clothing and hoping that he could loan a uniform for the rest of the day. He already stood out from the other students with his foreign looks; he definitely didn’t need any other reasons why he should feel like he didn’t fit in here.
“So, you must be Mr. Alonso?” the headmaster said and Xabi nodded. The old man gestured him to sit down on the chair next to the blond boy, who had an indifferent expression on his face, and when he obeyed, the man continued:
“You know, it is very impolite to be late, especially on your first day.” Though his voice was firm, he didn’t look angry at all; his eyes were full of kindness. They talked for a while (the man did most of the talking when he noticed that the young Spaniard was quite insecure about his language skills), the man told him that form teacher would help him get started, but that he was only available in a couple of hours. He introduced Xabi to the blond boy, Sami, and told him that he was a foreigner too (and that he was actually two years older than him and he was from Finland).
“Although you have a bit of an age difference, I’m sure you will get along just fine when you get to know each other. Sami is going to give you bit of a tour around the school. Have a good first day, Xabier.” They left the office and Sami showed him the school with a reluctant expression on his face. This wasn’t exactly Xabi’s idea of good time, either.
He felt like he was isolated from everyone around him. He didn’t know anyone and he was afraid that he might not get to know any of the students, due to the lack of communication. He only knew Sami, who didn’t seem to care about him at all, and Stevie, who (if he was completely honest) he didn’t even know, really. He just liked to think that maybe someday he might.
If just turning up to school had made him sick, it was nothing compared to this; he had to go and get something to eat at the school cafeteria. Xabi looked around, but didn’t see a place where he could eat. All the tables were already occupied and he didn’t want to bother the other students with his presence. He tried to find a familiar face from the crowd, but couldn’t. Stevie wasn’t anywhere to be seen and although he did see Sami, his death glare made clear that he wasn’t welcome at his table. Where Xabi finally ended up
was wandering around the empty yard alone.
He had done it. He had got through the hell, through the torturing hours he had to spend there. But it was all going to be repeated tomorrow and the day after tomorrow and the day after that.
Xabi was walking down the Landsdown View when he met Stevie again. He had a friendly smile on his face and Xabi could have sworn that his eyes were twinkling. They both said hi and continued walking towards their houses in silence. Xabi noticed that Steven wasn’t wearing his school uniform either. It confused him (because he had just been told that it was compulsory to wear it in school) and he tried to ask the boy about it.
“Why have you no clothes on?” Xabi asked, but realised that something wasn’t right with his sentence. And by the way Stevie’s smile widened he assumed that he had noticed that too.
“Do you mean, why aren’t I wearing my school clothes? I could ask you the exact same question...”
“I do not know... No, I did not know about...” Xabi trailed off when he tried to remember the correct word for it.
“About the school uniform? Yes, well it’s a bloody crap idea if you ask me. And if you ask Sami, you met Sami, right? Well, if you ask him, you’ll get a lecture about how useless they really are and how Finland is nice, because you don’t have to wear them there. Believe me, I’ve heard it dozens of times already.” Stevie realised that he had started babbling and that the Spanish boy hadn’t probably understood a word he had said.
“Is Sami like that always?” Xabi asked. He thought that the Finn had acted rather ridiculously, considering that they didn’t even know each other.
“Like what? Well, he might have just had a bad day. He’s a real nice lad, you know.” They had reached Stevie’s house and stopped there. Steven looked into Xabi’s eyes and saw something sad in them. He realised how hard it must be, being so far away from your home and not knowing anyone. He felt pity for the boy.
“Do you have football where you come from?” he asked and saw a little sparkle in the Spaniard’s eyes.
“Yes. I played for Real Sociedad,” Xabi replied, feeling more excited than he had in a long time. Finally he had a change to talk about his passion.
“What position do you play?” Stevie asked again and smiled encouragingly to the Spaniard, amused by the younger boy’s excitement.
“I... How do you say it? I am a... mid-mid... Idiota!” Xabi was frustrated with himself. For once he would have liked to talk for hours about something, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know the words.
“Midfielder?” Stevie said helpfully, still smiling at him. And when Xabi nodded in agreement, he continued. “I’m a midfielder too, you know. Would you like to come to my practise tonight? We could see what you’re made of and if you’re any good you might get into the team.”
Xabi didn’t say anything, but the answer was written all over his glowing face.
“That’s settled then. You live in the number 51, right? I’m going to come and pick you up in two hours; you’ll better be ready by then.” And with that he left Xabi standing there alone in the middle of the street.
Xabi couldn’t have smiled any wider. He was so excited about getting to play again. He would show them what he was made of; he would make his parents proud. He felt something he hadn’t felt since leaving his hometown.
He felt happy.