THE SUPER GOALS 1: WE'RE GOING TO WIN THIS GAME

VOL.1
WE’RE GOING TO WIN
THIS GAME
Written by
Alberto Casamayor
Illustrated by
Palma&Kako

Click!
Click!

1
Alex strikes the ball with the tip of her foot, sending
it soaring over her head. She is small and slender,
just eight years old, with long, wavy, brown hair.
With a swift feint, she deceives two opponents who,
mesmerized, watch as the ball moves away—only to
crash into each other. What a collision!
The crowd leaps to their feet, exhilarated by Alex’s
skill. She wears the number 10 jersey and runs
like a gazelle. Dozens of journalists have gathered
to watch her play!
Alex reaches the edge of the box, cuts inside past
the central defender with the outside of her foot,
and, without hesitation, strikes the ball with her
instep.
Click!

The stadium’s roar falls silent as the ball slices
through the air at a blistering speed, soaring past
the goalkeeper—too fast for him to react—and
slamming into the back of the net.
Goooooal!
The giant screen lights up, and her name echoes
through the stadium speakers, “Alex! Alex! Alex!”
POW!

Alex,
set the
table!
Alex furrows her brow. What do they mean, set the
table?
“Did you fall asleep again?” scolds her grandmother,
peering at a plant from behind what must
be the thickest glasses the world has ever seen.
“If you didn’t spend every night kicking everything
around and shouting ‘Goooal!,’ you wouldn’t be
dozing off in every corner. You scare me so much at
night, I’m going to lose all my hair! When I was your
age—nine years old…”
7

“Grandma, I’m right here! And I’m eight…”
“That’s what I said. When I was nine, I slept less
than my hens. And mind you, my hens barely slept,
because any hen that did sleep was a hen I ate!”
Grandma bursts into laughter, all by herself. She
laughs so hard that her back arches and creaks
like the hinge of an old wardrobe. And she doesn’t
stop laughing!
She places one hand on her lower back and
shuffles toward the kitchen, sniffling and waving
her other hand in front of her to avoid bumping
into the furniture.
This afternoon, the Super Goals—the
neighborhood’s seven-a-side kids’ soccer team—is
finally kicking off the season.
And Alex wouldn’t dream of missing it!
It’s the team her mother played for as a kid. Alex
would love to join, but they don’t let anyone under
nine sign up.
8

That means she’ll have to wait until the next school
year to be allowed to try out in the soccer trials,
no matter how much her grandmother insists that
she’s already nine years old.
Oh, no! A sofa cushion has fallen to the floor. Only
someone with Alex’s skill can fix it.
Watch! She lifts it with her foot, tosses it into the
air, and, with a gentle kick, lands it perfectly back in
place. The crowd erupts with excitement like never
before.
“Croak! Croak!”
“‘Croak’? What do you mean, ‘croak’?”
By the window, in a small coop, lives Priscilla—a
huge green toad with a voice that would make any
opera singer jealous.
At night, when she croaks, the windows of the
entire neighborhood tremble!
9

Swollen like a beach ball, Priscilla watches Alex
with bulging eyes, flicks out her tongue like a whip,
and snatches a fly out of midair. SLURP!
Alex slides a finger between the bars and strokes
Priscilla’s damp, slimy head.
“No matter how much Grandma insists,” she
whispers, “you’re not a hen. You’re a toad, Priscilla.
I don’t know if it’s her eyes, her ears, or her memory
that’s worse.”
Slurp!

After lunch, Alex flies down the stairs at full speed.
A ball is tucked under her arm, and as soon as she
passes through the garden gate, she drops it to
the ground and takes off running—dribbling with
her feet, weaving between trees, trash cans, and
lampposts as if they were defenders.
What a change of pace!
What amazing footwork!
As on most days, a blazing yellow sun hangs high
in the city sky, scorching the neck of anyone brave
enough to step outside.
Sweating, Alex finally arrives at her friend Paulie’s
house. Since the school year began just ten days
ago, he’s had the great honor of being the Super
Goals’ backup defensive midfielder. She finds him
sitting in the shade on the steps leading up to his
front door.
11

He’s wearing the team’s stunning uniform,
showcasing the city’s traditional colors: a blue
jersey, like the sea, and golden shorts and socks,
like the sand on the beach. A golden number five
gleams on the back.
Paulie is so absorbed in reading on his tablet that
he doesn’t even notice Alex standing in the yard. She
leans toward him, baffled that he still hasn’t seen
her. He’s engrossed in an article about an unsolved
crime. He’s in for a real scare!
“Paulie!” she suddenly shouts.
“Ahhh!”
Paulie jumps so hard that the tablet flies out of his
hands, slipping through his fingers like a salmon
fighting its way upstream.
It escapes his grip again and again…
It’s about to smash against the ground!
“Oh no!” he cries, clutching his head. “It’s my dad’s
new tablet! They’ll ground me, and I won’t get to
play with the Super Goals ’til I’m ninety!”
12

2
A foot appears out of nowhere. Alex gently stops
the tablet’s fall and, with a flick of her ankle, sends
it sailing straight into Paulie’s hands.
“I almost died!” Paulie exclaims. “Do you know how
many people die every year from fright?”
“Ha, ha, ha!” Alex grins. “No idea. Shall we go to
the Super Goals’ match now? I can’t wait!”
“By the way, have you heard the big news?” Paulie
asks, still looking pale. “Yesterday, Coach Da Costa
told us that after today’s game…he’s going to
announce two huge surprises that will define the
season!”
What surprises?
What surprises?
What surprises?!
I haven’t
the slightest
clue what they
could be.