The physics classroom was warm. The sun streamed through the windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.

Mr. Tesla stood at the front of the room. He was drawing a diagram of a parachute on the whiteboard.

"Air resistance," Mr. Tesla said. "It is the force that opposes motion. The faster you go, the harder the air pushes back. It is the enemy of speed."

Alex sat at his desk. He tapped his pen on his notebook.

Resistance.

He knew all about resistance.

Since winning the Champions League, every team played differently against Arsenal. They sat deep. They defended in numbers. They resisted.

"Mr. Finch," the teacher asked. "How do you overcome air resistance?"

Alex looked up.

"Streamlining, Sir," Alex said. "You make yourself smaller. You remove the rough edges. You become efficient."

"Correct," Mr. Tesla smiled. "Aerodynamics."

The door burst open.

Mark stumbled into the room.

He was wearing a full body lycra suit. It was bright neon green. It covered him from his neck to his ankles. He looked like a giant, radioactive green bean.

"I AM STREAMLINED!" Mark yelled. "I AM SMOOTH! THE AIR CANNOT CATCH ME!"

The class erupted in laughter.

"Mark," Mr. Tesla sighed. "Why are you dressed like a vegetable?"

"I am not a vegetable!" Mark insisted, squeaking as he walked to his desk. "I am pure speed! We play Tottenham tomorrow! The North London Derby! I need to be slippery!"

"You look ridiculous," Alex whispered.

"I look fast," Mark whispered back. "Also, it is very tight. I might need help getting out of this."

Alex shook his head.

The North London Derby.

Arsenal versus Tottenham.

It was not just a game. It was a tribal war. Red versus White. The Gunners versus The Spurs.

And this year, Tottenham were dangerous. They had a new manager. They played attacking football. And they had Son Heung min.

School finished. Alex walked out to the car park.

Milo was waiting.

Milo was dressed as a cannon.

He was wearing a black cardboard tube that covered his body. His face poked out of the top. He had a fuse made of string hanging from his ear.

"THE HUMAN CANNONBALL!" Milo shouted. "BOOM! ALEX! I AM SELLING EXPLOSIVE ENERGY! IT IS JUST FIZZY WATER WITH CHILLI POWDER! IT KICKS LIKE A MULE!"

"Milo, you cannot sell chilli water to children," Alex said.

"IT BUILDS CHARACTER!" Milo yelled. "AND IT CLEARS THE SINUSES!"

They drove to the training ground.

Steve, the manager, was waiting.

The mood was serious. A Derby week was always serious.

"Tottenham," Steve said, pointing to the screen. "They are brave. They play a high line. They press high."

He showed a video of Son Heung min sprinting.

"Son," Steve said. "The Smiling Assassin. He is nice. He helps you up if you fall. He smiles at the referee. And then he shoots the ball into the top corner from thirty yards. Do not trust the smile."

He looked at Alex.

"Professor. If they press high, there is space behind them. But you have to be fast. You have to think fast."

"I will be quicker than the air resistance," Alex promised.

Saturday. The Emirates Stadium.

The atmosphere was toxic in the best way possible.

Sixty thousand fans screaming. The noise was a physical weight.

The Tottenham players stood in the tunnel. They wore white.

Son Heung min stood next to Alex.

Son looked at Alex. He smiled. It was a warm, friendly smile.

"Hello, Champion," Son said. "Congratulations on the trophy."

"Thank you," Alex said. "Good luck today."

"We will try our best," Son said politely.

Then the whistle blew.

And the niceness vanished.

Tottenham attacked. They ran hard. They were fearless.

In the tenth minute, Maddison got the ball. He spun away from Rice. He played a through ball.

Son was running.

He was fast. Electric fast.

He ran past Ben White.

Ramsdale came out.

Son did not panic. He smiled. He curled the ball around the goalkeeper.

Goal.

Zero one. Tottenham.

The away section went wild. Son ran to the camera and made a shape with his fingers. A snapshot.

"He smiled while he did it!" Mark yelled. "That is so rude! Stop smiling and be angry like a normal person!"

Alex stood in the center circle.

One zero down in the Derby. Not good.

"Focus!" Alex shouted. "They are high! Look at their defense! They are on the halfway line!"

Arsenal restarted.

They tried to play long balls to Mark.

But Van de Ven, the Tottenham defender, was fast. He was a rocket.

Mark ran. Van de Ven ran. Van de Ven got there first.

"HE IS FAST!" Mark complained. "HE IS A CHEAT CODE!"

"Streamline yourself!" Alex yelled. "Use the lycra!"

"I AM NOT WEARING THE LYCRA!" Mark shouted back. "IT WAS CHAFING!"

Twenty minutes. Thirty minutes.

Tottenham controlled the game. They were pressing Arsenal into their own box. The resistance was too high.

Alex needed to solve the equation.

Problem: High pressure leads to high resistance.

Solution: Reduce the surface area. Play through the gaps.

Alex dropped deep. He went all the way to his own penalty box.

He got the ball from Ramsdale.

Maddison came to press him.

Alex waited.

He waited until Maddison was one meter away.

Then Alex passed the ball through Maddison legs. A nutmeg.

The crowd cheered.

Alex ran into the space.

He saw the pitch differently now. It was not a field. It was a geometry problem.

He saw Odegaard moving. He saw Saka moving.

Triangles.

Alex passed to Odegaard. Odegaard passed back to Alex. Alex passed to Saka.

One touch. Two touch. Three touch.

They cut through the Tottenham press like a laser.

Alex was now in the Tottenham half.

He saw Mark making a run. But Van de Ven was tracking him.

Alex knew Mark could not win a foot race against Van de Ven today.

So Alex did not pass into space.

He passed to feet.

"Come short!" Alex yelled.

Mark stopped running. He turned around. He came towards the ball.

Van de Ven could not stop. His momentum carried him backward.

Mark got the ball. He was on the edge of the box.

He had space to turn.

He turned.

He saw the goal.

He saw Vicario, the goalkeeper.

Mark wound up his leg.

"POWER!" Mark screamed.

He smashed the ball.

It flew like a cannonball.

It hit the underside of the bar.

CLANG.

It bounced down.

It bounced up into the roof of the net.

Goal.

One one.

The Emirates erupted.

Mark ran to the corner. He tried to do a knee slide. But he bounced. He did a roly poly instead.

"I AM A GYMNAST!" Mark yelled.

Halftime.

One one.

Steve was happy.

"You broke the press," Steve said. "They are breathing heavy. They cannot keep running like this. In the second half, they will crack."

He looked at Alex.

"Professor. Son is dangerous. He is drifting inside. You need to cut the supply line."

"I will disconnect the wifi," Alex said.

Second half.

The game became a chess match played at one hundred miles per hour.

Tottenham attacked. Arsenal countered.

Son hit the post.

Saka forced a save.

Seventy minutes. Eighty minutes.

The tension was unbearable. A draw in the Derby was okay. But a win? A win was legendary.

Eighty fifth minute.

Alex had the ball.

He was tired. His legs felt heavy. The air resistance felt like a wall.

He looked at the Tottenham defense. They were organized. Romero was shouting. Porro was watching.

There was no space.

Alex looked at Maya in the stands. She was holding a notebook. She pointed to the ground.

Low center of gravity.

Alex looked at the ball.

He started to dribble.

He did not run fast. He ran weird.

He zig zagged.

He went left. Then right. Then left again.

He was weaving through the defenders like a needle through fabric.

He got to the edge of the box.

Romero came out. The aggressive defender. He wanted to smash Alex.

Alex waited.

He saw the physics of the tackle. Romero was coming in hard.

Alex did a "Roulette". The Zidane turn.

He spun over the ball.

Romero slid past him.

Alex was through.

He was ten yards out.

The angle was tight.

Vicario covered the near post.

Alex looked at the far post.

He saw a tiny gap. Between the defenders legs and the post.

"Precision," Alex whispered.

He did not smash it.

He passed it into the net.

Gentle. Smooth. Accurate.

The ball rolled. It kissed the post. It spun in.

Goal.

Two one. Arsenal.

The stadium shook. It actually shook.

Alex ran to the crowd. He stood on the advertising board. He opened his arms.

The Professor.

Mark jumped on his back. Then Jude. Then Saliba.

"GENIUS!" Mark screamed in his ear. "YOU ARE A WIZARD!"

The final few minutes were chaos.

Tottenham threw everyone forward. Even the goalkeeper came up for a corner.

But Arsenal held on. They were the Kings of London.

The final whistle blew.

Arsenal 2. Tottenham 1.

North London was Red.

Alex fell to the grass. He was exhausted.

Son walked over. He was not smiling anymore. He looked sad. But he was still polite.

He shook Alex hand.

"You are special," Son said. "See you next time."

"See you," Alex said.

Milo ran onto the pitch. The cannon costume was ripped.

"THE CANNON IS FIRED!" Milo shouted. "VICTORY! ALEX! THE DRIBBLE! I AM SELLING SLALOM POLES! LEARN TO SKI! LEARN TO SCORE!"

"Milo, we are playing football, not skiing," Alex laughed.

"SAME THING!" Milo yelled. "IT IS ALL ABOUT THE HIPS!"

They walked into the dressing room.

The music was loud. The team was dancing.

Alex sat in his corner.

He checked his phone.

A text from Maya.

"Efficiency rating: 98 percent. You minimized energy waste and maximized output. Also, do not forget we have a biology test on Monday. Photosynthesis. Plants need light. You provided the light today."

Alex smiled.

He looked around the room.

Mark was wearing a bucket on his head.

Jude was singing loudly.

Antoine was dancing.

They were happy.

But Alex felt a little ping in his chest.

November was coming.

The World Cup was coming.

Soon, this dressing room would be empty.

Soon, Mark would be wearing a blue shirt for France.

Soon, Jude would be wearing a white shirt for England.

Alex looked at his England badge on his bag.

He was ready.

But he would miss this.

"Hey Professor!" Mark yelled. "What is photosynthesis?"

"It is how plants eat sunlight," Alex said.

"Do they eat it with a fork?" Mark asked.

"No, Mark."

"With a spoon?"

"No, Mark."

"Weird," Mark said. "Plants are weird."

Alex laughed.

He closed his eyes.

The Derby was won.

The City was theirs.

Now, the World was waiting.

And the Professor had a lot of studying to do.

The Dynasty was going global.

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