(Kyra Cooney-Cross, Alessia Russo and Steph Catley)
Kyra Cooney-Cross stood at the entrance of Arsenal's training ground, the iconic red and white logo gleaming under the soft morning sun. Her heart raced as she clutched her backpack, filled with freshly signed paperwork and a pair of neatly polished boots. Arsenal. The dream. But now that she was here, reality hit her harder than she'd expected. She felt small, overwhelmed, and achingly nervous.
The young Australian midfielder had grown up dreaming of moments like this. After an impressive World Cup campaign, the buzz around her had been electric, and Arsenal's offer had been the cherry on top of her breakout year. But as she stepped into the facility, her confidence wavered. Everyone here was a star, a household name in women's football. Could she measure up?
Kyra swallowed hard, her steps faltering as she entered the players' lounge. She was greeted by an explosion of energy—a mix of laughter, chatter, and the faint hum of a coffee machine. The smell of fresh espresso filled the air. Players milled around, some scrolling on their phones, others animatedly discussing last weekend's match.
"Hey, you must be Kyra!"
The warm voice belonged to none other than Steph Catley, Kyra's compatriot and a seasoned Arsenal defender. Steph's face lit up with a smile as she approached. Kyra's shoulders immediately relaxed; seeing a familiar face felt like a lifeline.
"Hi," Kyra replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Her Australian accent felt thick and clunky compared to Steph's effortless ease.
"Don't look so nervous! You're going to be amazing here," Steph said, her tone encouraging. "Come on, let me show you around."
Steph looped an arm around Kyra's shoulders, guiding her through the lounge. They passed by the tactical board, where manager Jonas Eidevall was chatting with his assistants, and then through the dining area, where a few players waved or offered quick smiles.
"You've made a great choice," Steph continued. "Arsenal's like a family, and we take care of our own. Alessia's just over there—she's been dying to meet you."
Kyra's eyes followed Steph's gesture to a table where Alessia Russo, the Lionesses' superstar striker, was sitting with a cup of tea. Alessia looked up and immediately grinned, giving Kyra an enthusiastic wave.
"Kyra! There she is," Alessia called out, standing up to greet her. The striker's warm energy was infectious, and Kyra found herself smiling back despite her nerves.
"Hi," Kyra said, her voice timid again. Alessia didn't seem to notice; she gave Kyra a quick hug and motioned for her to sit.
"I've heard so much about you," Alessia began, her tone bright. "Steph's been hyping you up nonstop. And after that World Cup performance? You're going to be unstoppable."
Kyra blushed, fiddling with the strap of her backpack. "Thanks... I'm just a bit nervous, I guess. It's a lot to take in."
Steph chuckled, taking a seat beside her. "Nerves are normal. Trust me, my first day here, I was convinced I'd trip over a cone and never recover."
Alessia laughed. "Oh, she did. Twice."
"Thanks for that, Less," Steph retorted, playfully rolling her eyes. "The point is, we've all been where you are now. And we're here to help you settle in."
The conversation moved effortlessly from football to lighter topics—Kyra's favorite cafés in Melbourne, Alessia's disastrous attempt at baking banana bread, and Steph's obsession with Australian soap operas. Slowly but surely, Kyra felt her nerves begin to melt away.
As the trio finished their tea, Steph glanced at the clock. "Right, time to show Kyra the pitch. You've got to see it—it's beautiful."
The walk to the training pitch was accompanied by light banter. Alessia teased Steph about her Spotify playlist, which apparently featured an alarming number of Taylor Swift songs. Steph defended herself with mock indignation, earning a genuine laugh from Kyra.
When they reached the pristine training ground, Kyra's breath caught. The emerald grass stretched out in perfect symmetry, bordered by a backdrop of Arsenal-red buildings. Players were already warming up, their movements sharp and precise. The sight was equal parts inspiring and intimidating.
"You'll get used to it," Steph said, catching Kyra's awe-struck expression. "But the first time? It's always a bit overwhelming."
Alessia handed Kyra a ball. "Let's have a kick-around. No pressure—just the three of us."
Kyra hesitated before taking the ball. Her touch was tentative at first, but as they passed it around, her natural instincts kicked in. A cheeky nutmeg on Alessia earned her a round of applause from Steph, and soon, Kyra was laughing freely.
"See? You've got this," Alessia said, grinning. "By tomorrow, you'll be running this place."
The session ended with a few light drills and plenty of encouragement from Steph and Alessia. By the time they headed back inside, Kyra felt a spark of confidence rekindle in her chest.
As they entered the locker room, Steph slung an arm around her again. "You're part of this team now, Kyra. We've got your back."
Alessia nodded. "And anytime you need someone to talk to—or someone to embarrass on the pitch—you know where to find us."
Kyra smiled, her earlier shyness replaced with a flicker of excitement. Maybe this wouldn't be so scary after all. Surrounded by teammates who felt like instant friends, she realized she wasn't just stepping into a club; she was stepping into a family.
For the first time that day, she couldn't wait for tomorrow.
