Carson Messi

Chapter Twenty

"Are you going to school?" Dad asks Thursday morning. He was more then happy to have some Beckhams staying with us.

All week has been uneventful because I've been avoiding the 'popular table' like its the Black Plague. I've literally dragged Bella, Mary, and Athens to the library all week in an attempt to avoid seeing Cara and her groupies. Practices have also been quiet as Coach Leeper has been coaching the goalkeepers recently.

"No," I answer. "If it's okay, I'd like to pick up David up from the airport."

Dad nods understandingly. "That's alright with me. I'm taking your mom with me to work today. She's been wanting to see the practice and she's bringing snacks for the players. I swear she spoils them like their ten." He says.

I laugh as mom comes into the room dressed in shorts and a short sleeved blouse. "Why are you guys laughing?" She asks as she pulls out her pre made snacks.

"You should bring me snacks!" I say, noticing her caramel apple slices.

Mom rolls her eyes. "I prefer spoiling the old ones. They don't get enough motherly love. They're going to need it if they're going to stay out of trouble."

"They're college kids, not drug dealers, Meredith." Dad says, giving his wife a kiss on her cheek.

"Same difference." Mom says, packing bottles of Gatorade into a cooler. "Carson, get dressed in something nicer. Last time you saw David you were in a ball gown."

"Mom, he's aware I'm an athlete. I wear less dressy stuff than the average person." I point out.

"I don't care. Put something nicer on than sweatpants and a tank top." Mom says.

"Alrighty." I say, giving up on any debate I was going to cause. Everyone knows that Mom always wins arguments. No matter what.

"We better go if we wanna set up early. We'll see you later, Carson. Be safe alright." Dad says, hugging me. Mom follows behind him and kisses my cheek before rolling her large cooler out to Dad's truck.

I watch from the kitchen window as they drive down the street. Hershey comes out of no where and barks at me.

I raise a questioning eyebrow at him. Hershey holds my eye contact for a few seconds before trotting to the couch and laying down.

My mom forbids Hershey from laying on our couches, but whenever she isn't here, he takes advantage of it. The dog is smart.

I walk back upstairs, humming a little. What should I wear today?

In my closet, I find a pair of khaki shorts, so I slide those on. Next I find an old Ronaldo Manchester United jersey and put that on. Finally I pull on some Sperry boat shoes that I thought went out of style in 2010.

I pull my hair into a messy bun as I walk back downstairs.

"Hersh? Wanna go on a ride?" I ask the chocolate lab. His head shoots up before he runs to the door. He picks up his leash himself and follows me out to my car.

I open the back door and let him. He lays down the floor of my jeep. I easily pull out of our driveway.

I don't skip school often, but when it comes to retired footballers, I do.

After an hour of driving, I pull up to the pickup gate of the airport. I slide my sunglasses up on my head so David and Brooklyn can find me. I know I won't find them because they'll probably be in disguises.

"Mini Messi!" David says, spotting me. "How are you?"

I give him a hug as I open my trunk for him. "I'm great Davy!" I answer. "How are you, little munchkin?" I ask Brooklyn.

He only rolls his eyes. "I'm good, Carson. You're not that much taller, or older, than me."

"But I still am. So I'll enjoy your height while I can. I'll always be older though." I say, patting his head like he's my little brother.

"Who's this?" Brooklyn asks, sitting down in the car and noticing Hershey.

"That's Hershey." I answer.

David turns around in the passengers side to look at the large dog. Hershey only stares back at him with a challenging gaze.

"Do you guys want lunch?" I ask the two British footballers.

"Sure. Our food on the plane wasn't great. You'd think they'd treat first class better." David answers. He leans back in his seat. "That was a long plane ride."

"I bet." I reply, turning on my turn signal. "You had layovers right?"

"Sure did. Got to stop in Atlanta, Georgia before flying five more hours. It's great for young ones, but not for me anymore." David says.

I roll my eyes at the dramatic Brit. "You're not that old."

He shrugs as we pull into a drive through. All three of us order and get our food before driving back to our house in a comfortable silence.

I met David Beckham when I was four or five. He's good friends with my father and they played on the same club team before my dad switched to coaching. So growing up, he just sorta became like an uncle figure. Someone I treated like an uncle, and his kids are just like my cousins.

"We're home." I announce, pulling into our driveway. I park and grab their bags, which they help me with.

I give them a quick tour and show them to the guest bedrooms.

"Thanks, Carson." David says, giving me a hug. "Your the best little teenager I've ever met."

"Hey!" Brooklyn calls from his room down the hallway. "I can hear you!"

"Thanks David. You're my favorite retired footballer." I say.

David grins as he goes to unpack his suitcase a little.

"Well, I have to get to my practice if I want to play tomorrow. Mom and Dad should be back in a little bit, so try not to break anything. You're welcome to make yourselves at home though." I say.

David nods. "Thanks. Have a good practice." He says, sending a grin.

I wave to them as I leave the house.