Starting Eleven Read online

  ‘We’re about to find out,’ said Jason. ‘All I know is, if he tries to tackle me I’m jumping out of the way!’

  The lad called Adam walked slowly out onto the pitch and took up his position in defence. He’d be facing Jason and Abs, who’d both been given strikers’ roles. He looked weird. Like his arms and legs were too big and he couldn’t control them properly.

  ‘See?’ said Abs. ‘He’s like a big bear, Dal. We’ll just pass the ball around him . . .’

  Mr Turner started the game as me and Chris watched from the touchline.

  ‘Keep stretching, lads,’ Mr James warned us. ‘You could be on any minute . . .’

  I grinned as the action started. The other team passed the ball to each other, and Steven, who’d warmed up with us, tried really hard to get the ball back. But the rest of our team didn’t do anything. They just let the other team play! Very quickly they were bearing down on our goal and it was the big lad, Adam, who had the ball. I looked across at the defence and groaned when I saw Dipesh and another lad called Danny playing there. Both of them had been rubbish during the warm-up and now they looked scared. I glanced over at Abs, who was running back to help the defence. His face was red and his arms were all over the place as he ran.

  He was shouting: ‘STOP HIM!’

  Steven caught up with Adam and managed to get him to run wide of the goal but then Adam passed the ball to one of his team-mates. The lad who got the ball touched it past Dipesh and then put it through Danny’s legs. Nutmegged! As Gurinder, our goalkeeper, came rushing off his line, the lad pushed it past him too, and into the back of an empty goal. Our entire team groaned and the other team cheered.

  It was 1–0!

  The ball went back to the centre circle, and Mr Turner, who was refereeing the game, blew on his whistle to restart the match.

  ‘Get organized, lads!’ Mr James shouted from the touchline. ‘Four-four-two, like before!’

  Steven got the ball in midfield and passed it on to Jason, who dribbled it past two of their players. Then he pushed it forward to Abs. Adam was right behind Abs but didn’t make a tackle. Abs faked a turn to his left but instead swivelled and went right, leaving Adam standing.

  Abs looked up and let go a powerful shot which sailed just over the bar. Another groan went up.

  Abs shook his head and took up his position again. For the next ten minutes the ball went back and forth between our team and the opposition. But then Adam got hold of it again and he ran straight through our team. No one could stop him! He was left with only Dipesh to beat. Dipesh cried out as Adam ran at him, closed his eyes and swung out his right foot. But he kicked fresh air. Adam just went to his left and then shot into the bottom right corner, just past Gurinder’s outstretched hand. It was 2–0!

  Immediately Mr James told me and Chris to get ready.

  ‘You’re going into the defence,’ he told us.

  I smiled, because defence is my position, but Chris is a striker and he complained to Mr James. The coach shook his head and pulled Chris up.

  ‘The first rule of the Rushton Reds,’ he told Chris, ‘is teamwork. I need you to play for the team – even if it is out of position.’ Chris nodded slowly.

  ‘Now get out there and sort things out at the back. Get tight on their strikers and stop them getting any space. Understand?’

  ‘Yessir!’ said Chris.

  Mr James called Dipesh and Danny off, and me and Chris entered the game.

  ‘Come on!’ I shouted to my team-mates. ‘Let’s start playing!’

  Chapter 4

  I WAS REALLY confident when I ran onto the pitch with Chris. But within five minutes things got even worse! Their strikers, Dave and Harry, played the ball to each other a few times and even though I managed to tackle Harry, the ball deflected off my foot and into Dave’s path. As Chris came in with a tackle, Dave planted the ball in the net and it was 3–0!

  Mr James shouted out instructions and switched some players around. Steven came into defence with me and Jason was put into midfield. Chris was sent up to partner Abs in attack. And it worked. Within two minutes we’d scored a goal. And it was a real beauty!

  It started at the back, where I won the ball from Adam and passed it to Steven. He moved out of defence and gave it to Jason, who ran past three players and played it out to Abs, who was standing on the left wing. Abs cut inside his marker and crossed the ball at knee height, to the edge of the box. Before anyone else blinked, Chris was onto the ball and he smashed a shot into their goal. 3–1! We went crazy and jumped Chris as Mr James shouted at us to calm down.

  ‘You haven’t won anything yet!’ he bellowed. ‘Get back to your positions and concentrate!’

  We had two more chances but missed both before the whistle blew for half-time.

  As we trudged off the pitch, Abs was moaning.

  ‘That was rubbish,’ he said repeatedly. ‘Rubbish, rubbish, rubbish . . .’

  ‘We’ll be OK,’ I told him. ‘We’ve started playing now and they haven’t had a shot since we scored.’

  ‘Yeah, but we’ve got some right potatoes playin’ for us,’ added Abs.

  Jason smirked. ‘What’s with all the stupid vegetable names?’ he asked Abs. ‘It was cabbage-face before, and now potatoes . . . you got any funny ones?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Abs, grinning. ‘How about . . . Jason?’

  ‘Get lost!’

  I shook my head and sat down at the edge of the pitch.

  Mr James came over and told me to get up. ‘You’ll get cold sitting down,’ he said to me.

  He had a plastic tub with him and there were oranges inside it, cut into slices. He offered them around and then started talking to us about the first half.

  ‘You’ve got to do better,’ he told us. ‘I know they’ve got that big lad with them but he’s not that good . . . we need to pass the ball to each other and run more . . .’

  He went on for another minute or so, telling each player what to do, before walking off to talk to Mr Turner. As I watched, they wrote some stuff down on a clipboard. And then they pointed out some of the other players, nodding to each other. They hadn’t pointed at me or my friends, and I started to panic. What if they were picking the people who’d made the squad? Maybe we weren’t going to make it. Suddenly I felt a bit sick. I turned to Chris.

  ‘We have to do better,’ I said to him as my stomach started to feel funny.

  He nodded as he sucked on a slice of orange.

  ‘No!’ I said urgently. ‘Look! They’re picking the squad and they aren’t looking at us.’

  Chris looked over at the coaches and his face fell.

  ‘Nah!’ he said, after he’d spat the orange slice out.

  Just then my dad and Jason’s mum came over.

  ‘Come on, lads!’ said my dad, smiling. ‘You’re better than this.’

  ‘Yes . . . come on!’ said Jason’s mum, making a fist. ‘You are going to play for the Rushton Reds! Go on!’ Her face was bright pink and she looked a bit scary.

  ‘We have to make the team,’ I said to Jason.

  He looked at his mum and went red.

  ‘She can be so embarrassing sometimes,’ he moaned under his breath as my belly began to feel as though it was full of ants, all crawling around inside.

  The second half started a few minutes later and I was determined to turn things around. The other team had made some substitutions, and I told Jason that we had to attack them from the start.

  ‘Just get the ball to me,’ he replied, ‘and I’ll get Abs and Chris going . . .’

  It took ten minutes to find a way through the other team’s defence, but when we did Abs scored a cracker with his left foot. 3–2! He went mental, running all the way back to high-five our goalkeeper. And straight from the restart, Steven won the ball and passed it to me. I ran into the opposition’s half of the pitch and skipped two challenges before coming up against Adam, who had moved into midfield. He was bearing down on me like a buffalo and I started worrying
that I might lose the ball. He was steaming towards me . . .

  But just as Adam got close, Jason popped up next to me. I squared the ball to him. He spun round and found Abs with a great pass. Abs already knew he was better than the defender in front of him. He flew down to the touchline and crossed the ball. It was sailing through the air and I sprinted to meet it with my head. Bang! The ball flew into the net and my head exploded in happiness. It was 3–3! This time even Mr James was jumping up and down and cheering. I heard my dad shout, ‘Nice one, son!’ and then I went back to take my position.

  After that the game got scrappy, and in the end we didn’t manage to find a winner. But that didn’t bother me. When the final whistle blew, I was happy that we’d got the draw after being three goals down. I felt like an FA Cup-winner and as we walked off the pitch the other lads were congratulating each other.

  But it didn’t last very long. Mr Turner gathered all the players together and shook his head.

  ‘Some good play,’ he told us, ‘but not enough. The defending was sloppy – and half of you couldn’t be bothered to run. I only want determined players for Rushton Reds and some of you just weren’t up for it. I’m going to read out thirty names. If your name is called out then you need to be back here for six p.m. on Thursday.’

  I gulped down air and my stomach turned somersaults. I had to be on that list of names. Had to be!

  ‘And if your name isn’t called out, then never mind. You haven’t made the squad this time. But don’t give up. There are lots of other trials to attend . . . and thank you all for trying.’

  Jason put his hand up to ask a question.

  ‘What is it, son?’ asked Mr James.

  ‘Isn’t thirty players a lot for one squad?’ he asked.

  Mr James nodded as Mr Turner explained further.

  ‘Thursday is trial number two,’ he told us. ‘That’s when we’ll narrow the field down to sixteen players, with another four or five as standbys . . .’

  I looked around. There were some really good players. I wasn’t sure that me and all of my mates would make it. Mr Turner started to read out the list of names . . .

  He read one name and then another. But he hadn’t read my name out or any of my friends. He read out two more names. Still none of us! I started to panic and I could feel the sweat on my forehead tingling. What if we didn’t make it? What were we going to do then?

  That was when I heard ‘Abs, Jason and Chris.’

  I expected to hear my name next, but I didn’t. And it wasn’t the next one either. What was going on? Was I going to fail when my best friends had all made it? Would they still want to be my friends if I wasn’t a Rushton Red like they were? I was starting to feel sick again. What if I was no good . . .?

  Then I heard my name, just as I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest. I wanted to jump up and down but I didn’t. Instead I reminded myself that I still had to pass the second trial. I couldn’t see one bad player in the list for Trial Number Two. We were only over the first hurdle. Thursday was going to be even more difficult.

  ‘Come on then, lads,’ said my dad, after the coaches had left. ‘Time to get home and showered. Well done!’

  I looked at Abs. ‘There’s some good players coming back on Thursday,’ I said.

  ‘I don’t care,’ replied Abs. ‘We’ll be better than them again.’

  I turned to Chris and Jason. ‘What do you two think?’ I asked them.

  Chris shrugged and Jason shook his head.

  ‘It’s gonna be hard,’ Jason said.

  ‘Not if some of them don’t make it in time,’ said Chris mysteriously.

  ‘Huh?’ I asked.

  ‘Never mind,’ said Chris. ‘Just leave it to me . . .’

  He winked at me and then refused to tell me what he was on about all the way home.

  Chapter 5

  Wednesday

  THE NEXT DAY all we talked about was football. Very soon everyone else at school started to get fed up. The first person to say something was a girl called Lily Jones. Only she wasn’t actually fed up. She was just mad!

  ‘Can’t you talk about anything else?’ she asked me and Jason as we sat on a wall during morning break.

  Jason shrugged and asked her what she wanted to talk about. His face went a bit red because he fancied Lily.

  ‘Oh, anything,’ she replied. ‘Just not football. I mean, I like football. I even play, but can’t we please talk about music or something?’

  I groaned as Jason just smiled at her. The fool.

  ‘But you weren’t even talking to us,’ I said to her.

  Lily grinned. ‘Yeah – but I could have been,’ she replied as one of her friends, Parvy, joined her.

  ‘And . . . ?’ I asked.

  ‘And just think of all the cool points you could get . . .’

  Parvy started to giggle.

  ‘I mean – it’s not every day that someone like me talks to you, is it?’ Lily continued.

  But I didn’t have a clue what she was on about.

  ‘Er . . .’ I began.

  ‘And with me being so beautiful and clever – just think how jealous everyone else will be . . .’

  She took my hand and squeezed it hard. I tried to pull it away but she held on tight. Then she kissed me on the cheek! Jason’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. From behind us I heard a really irritating voice. It was Nilesh – the school geek.

  ‘EHHHH!’ he whined. ‘Dal just kissed Lily! Dal just kissed Lily!’

  ‘Dal’s got a girlfriend! Dal’s got a girlfriend!’ sang his silly friend, Mark.

  As I pulled away from Lily she shook her head.

  ‘Boys are sooo silly!’ she said to Parvy as they walked away.

  ‘What was that all about?’ asked Jason.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I replied, feeling embarrassed. ‘She’s crazy, she is.’

  Jason looked kind of worried. ‘Are you and her going out?’ he said.

  ‘No!’ I said really quickly. ‘I don’t like girls. I only like football!’

  Jason nodded at me.

  ‘Come on,’ I said. ‘It’s time for our next lesson.’

  ‘I didn’t know Lily played football,’ said Jason as we walked in.

  ‘There’s a girls’ team at the club,’ I told him. ‘I saw a notice about it.’

  ‘Be funny if she played for the boys’ team,’ added Chris.

  I gave him a look that said forget it.

  ‘That’s never, ever happening,’ I replied.

  We walked into our classroom and sat down. Abs and Chris were already there. They’d been helping our teacher, Mr Kilminster, with something.

  ‘What did the Killer want you to do?’ I asked Chris. Killer was Mr Kilminster’s nickname.

  ‘Nothing much,’ replied Chris. ‘We just helped him move some boxes around. What did you get up to?’

  ‘He didn’t get up to much,’ said Parvy from behind us. ‘He was too busy kissing Lily!’

  ‘Eh?’ said Chris, looking shocked.

  ‘No way!’ added Abs, who’d overheard. ‘Did you kiss Lily?’

  I shook my head. I could feel myself going red. Why had she kissed me? I didn’t even like her!

  ‘It wasn’t like that,’ I explained, just as Nilesh and Mark walked in, sniggering at each other.

  ‘He just walked up, asked her out and then kissed her,’ Parvy said, lying through her teeth. ‘Just like that. Didn’t even buy her a pen or something first . . .’

  ‘I was very pleased though,’ said Lily from behind me.

  Now my face was even redder than before. I didn’t know what to say.

  ‘We’re really happy and plan to get married as soon as we can . . .’ Lily added, grinning like a cat.

  ‘NO!’ I shouted as Killer walked in.

  ‘What’s the matter with you, boy?’ he asked me.

  ‘Nothing, sir,’ I replied.

  ‘Good. In that case sit down and be quiet. And that goes for the rest o
f you too.’

  ‘You’re weird,’ whispered Chris.

  ‘I didn’t do anything!’ I whispered back. ‘Honest!’

  ‘DALJIT!’ shouted Mr Kilminster.

  ‘Sorry, sir,’ I mumbled as Killer glared at me.

  ‘You’d better be,’ he threatened, his face going redder than a strawberry. Redder than my face too.

  I looked at Lily and she blew me a kiss.

  *

  At lunch time I asked Chris what he’d meant after the trial.

  ‘Eh?’ he asked, looking at me like I had a sausage growing out of my head.

  ‘You said “not if some of them don’t make it in time” – remember?’ I reminded him.

  ‘Oh, that,’ he said. ‘I was just talking. I didn’t mean anything by it.’

  ‘Oh . . . never mind,’ I said, trying not to sound disappointed. I had hoped that he’d have some amazing plan but he obviously didn’t. ‘We need to get sorted for the second trial,’ I added a bit more cheerily.

  Chris scratched his head. ‘How?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know. But it’s going to be really difficult. We have to play better than we did.’

  ‘We will – have faith,’ he replied.

  ‘I wish someone could make half of the other lads late for the trial,’ I said.

  ‘Why don’t you write a letter to Santa Claus,’ suggested Chris, teasing me.

  ‘It’s not funny,’ I told him. ‘We have to be in the starting eleven on Saturday . . .’

  ‘I wanted a hamster when I was six and my dad told me to write to Santa and I got a hamster,’ Chris told me.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I remember. You let it out onto the street and it never came back, did it?’

  ‘My dad found it,’ he said. ‘A car ran it over. Mum said it went to Hamster Heaven.’

  I grinned.

  ‘Adults are so stupid sometimes,’ added Chris. ‘Like there’s a heaven for hamsters . . .’

  I was at home with my dad, watching The Simpsons, when Chris called for me. I answered the door and he walked in, acting all shady, with a backpack on across his shoulders.

  ‘What’s up?’ I asked.