Hot Prospect (3 page)

“Yes,” said Roddy. It was horrible when teachers started off cheerfully, as if they weren't really annoyed.

“You want to play for Wales one day, is that right?”

“Yeah,” Roddy said cautiously, wondering where it was leading. “That would be a dream come true.”

“Well, I wanted to let you know that we were really impressed with you today,” said Mr Jenkins. “You've definitely got something.”

Roddy looked at the coach in surprise. “I thought you were going to tell me off,” he said before he could stop himself.

“Did you?” Mr Jenkins looked confused for a moment, and then his expression cleared. “Oh! You mean the girl you knocked over? Don't worry, these things happen. It's all a matter of awareness, and you were so focused on getting the ball, I imagine you weren't thinking of much else.”

Roddy nodded thankfully. “That's it,” he agreed. “I try to notice where all the players are, but sometimes I forget.”

“Well, it's something you can work on,” said the coach. “But that isn't why I wanted to speak to you. You see, we'd like to give you a proper trial, if you and your parents agree.”

“Really?” Roddy was puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“We think you've got a lot of talent,
Roddy,” said Mr Jenkins. “The sort of talent that would be a real asset at Stadium School. I can't say you'd be a dead cert for a place, but we're trying out some promising kids in a couple of weeks' time. If you'd like to join the group, I think you'd have a good chance of getting into the school.”

Roddy's mouth fell open. “Me? At Stadium School? Like Peter?”

“That's right,” said Mr Jenkins. “If you're good enough on the day. Would you like that?”

Roddy could only nod. His heart had started pounding in his chest. It was such a big thing to take in.

Mr Jenkins clapped him on the shoulder. “All right, lad,” he said kindly. “Is your dad coming to collect you? I'd like to have a word. I'll come out in a minute. Don't go until I've had a chance to speak to him.”

Roddy went back outside to where Bryn was waiting.

“How did it go?” asked Bryn.

“He wants me to go for a trial,” explained Roddy in a daze, still finding it hard to believe. “It looks like I've got a chance of getting into Stadium School!”

Bryn laughed. “Yeah right,” he said. “Pull the other one.”

“No, really!” said Roddy. “They want to speak to my dad and everything. It's not a wind up, honest!”

“Honest?”

“Honest! Look, there's Dad now. I'd better go and tell him.”

Roddy could feel his friend's eyes following him as he went to meet his dad. He didn't blame Bryn for not believing him. It was incredible. If he went to this trial, and if he got through,
he
could be wearing that cool
blue-and-green strip in the autumn, instead of starting at Valley Comp. This was one of those rare opportunities Mr Jenkins had talked about. And it had come to
him
!

In spite of the hot weather, Roddy felt a shiver run up his spine. There was no way he would let this chance pass him by. No, Roddy Jones was going to do everything he could to earn a place at Stadium School.

At home, they spent the whole evening discussing what had happened. His parents wanted to know exactly how Roddy had been singled out as possible Stadium School material.

“I don't
know
how,” said Roddy for the umpteenth time. “I was just playing football like I always do.”

“Well, they must have seen your potential,” said his dad. “To be picked out like that is amazing! And that coach fellow said you were the only one. I'm really proud of you, Roddy.”

“So am I, love,” said his mum, giving Roddy a hug. “Perhaps being half Brazilian helps,” she teased. “But this is a big step, Roddy.
If you got into this school, football wouldn't just be a bit of fun any more. You'd be expected to take it seriously.”

“She's right, son,” said his dad. “You'd have to train every day, and work at your game like a job. It's a big decision. Do you
really
want football to dominate your life?”

Roddy stared at his parents. “Of course I do!” he burst out. “It's
always
been more than a bit of fun for me. Can't you see that?”

Mr Jones smiled. “I can see it means everything to you right now,” he said.

“And it always will,” said Roddy seriously. “It's all I've ever wanted to do.”

“Well, OK,” agreed his dad. “I can see you need to go for the trial, and we're with you all the way, but we don't want you to be too disappointed if you don't succeed. You must be realistic about your chances.”

“And if you did get in, you wouldn't
be able to come home whenever you felt like it,” said his mum. “Stadium School is
miles
away.”

Roddy tried hard to think about what it would be like to live at a school and only see his family during the holidays, but all he could think about was the trial. What would they make him do? How could he best practise for it? Did he
really
have a decent chance of getting in?

“Well?” said his mum. “What do you think?”

“I want to go for it,” said Roddy desperately. “I really do.” He looked at their worried faces impatiently. “What's the matter
now
?”

His parents exchanged glances. “Well,” said his dad slowly. “There's also the matter of affording it.”

“I could get a paper round to help out,”
Roddy offered. “Or wash cars …
anything
!”

His mum smiled. “I think the fees for Stadium School might be a bit more than that, Rodrigo,” she said. She only used his full name when things were serious.

“Well, in that case, there's no point in me going for the trial, is there?” said Roddy, trying to sound mature. But he couldn't avoid a note of resentment creeping into his voice.

Roddy's dad glanced though all the leaflets he'd been given by Mr Jenkins. “There are some grants and bursaries,” he said. “If you got one of those, it would make a big difference.”

“How do I do that?” said Roddy.

“Some are awarded on hardship grounds,” said his dad. “But they're all linked to ability. Basically, the best students get the most help.”

“So I don't just have to get through the trial, I have to get through it
brilliantly
,” said Roddy heavily. “Great!”

Mrs Jones put her arm round her son. “Dad and I will do a few sums later on tonight,” she told him. “We don't want you to miss out any more than you do, but there's only so much money to go round.”

“OK,” said Roddy quietly.

When he went up to bed that night, his parents stayed at the kitchen table, with lots of bills and papers spread out in front of them. Roddy felt bad that he was putting them through all this worry, but he was worried, too. Surely he wasn't going to lose this opportunity for the sake of money! It seemed so unfair.

The next morning, Roddy came downstairs after both his parents had gone to work. There was a note for him on the table.

Dad and I think you should go for the trial
, it said.
We'll try to manage the money
.

It wasn't bad news, but it wasn't entirely
good either. It seemed that if he got in his parents were going to struggle finding the money. But they hadn't said no. That was the most important thing. So he bolted down a bowl of cereal and went straight to the computer. When he googled Stadium School, the website came up straight away.

The school looked just as awesome as he'd remembered from the TV programme. But Roddy didn't want to browse, he was looking for information about the school's trials. When Bryn rang the door bell, Roddy was busy downloading some details. He clattered downstairs and let his friend in.

“Do you want to go swimming later, after we've played football?” asked Bryn. “I brought my gear, just in case.”

“Great!” said Roddy. “I'm just on the computer checking out Stadium School. Come with me. I need to print out something.”

Upstairs, Bryn picked at a scab on his knee. “Let's have a look at the website then,” he said.

“Go for it,” said Roddy. He got up so Bryn could sit at his desk.

“Hey! They have a cool swimming pool,” said Bryn.

“I wonder if I'll get to use it,” said Roddy. “Mr Jenkins told Dad I'll have to stay overnight, so I might.”

Bryn didn't reply. “What's that you're printing out?” he asked.

“Just some stuff about the trial,” said Roddy. “They're sending a letter with all the details, but I want to find out
now
if there's anything I can practise.”

Bryn took the page out of the printer and started reading. It said there would be a tour of the school, followed by a big match, where the coaches would be watching carefully. After a
team-building exercise, they had the evening free to do what they liked. After breakfast the next day, there would be some more football, focusing on skills.

“Well,” said Bryn at last. “If you like, I'll help you with your ball skills now.”

“Brilliant!” exclaimed Roddy. “Thanks, Bryn.” He looked at his friend gratefully and Bryn gave a feeble smile.

“Well, I have to help the future star, don't I?” he said after a pause.

After grabbing a drink, the friends went out into the garden. It was fun practising passing, and they did some headers, too.

“Let's have a go at tackling and dribbling,” Roddy suggested.

“Nah,” objected Bryn. “I can never get near you.”

“Please,” said Roddy. “It would really help.”

Bryn sighed. “OK. Just for a bit.”

Roddy couldn't help imagining himself already at Stadium School, training with other stars of the future.

Roddy Jones is working hard in training today, ready for the new season. His dribbling and pace is a big part of his game, and he's running rings around his training partner
.

Bryn was right. Roddy
was
better than him at dribbling, and he soon got rather puffed out and very frustrated.

“Want to stop?” asked Roddy.

“No,” replied Bryn through gritted teeth. “I've got to win at least
one
ball from you.”

Roddy set off, dribbling the ball towards Bryn again. Bryn tried hard to keep his eyes on the ball, but Roddy's quick feet were mesmerising and, as he lunged for the ball, he accidentally caught his friend's leg. Roddy collapsed on the grass and clutched his ankle.

“Sorry,” said Bryn awkwardly.

“You idiot!” shouted Roddy. “The trial is only a couple of weeks away. How am I going to have a chance with an injured ankle?”

“It's not
my
fault,” argued Bryn. “You shouldn't have asked me to tackle you.”

“I didn't ask you to
foul
me!” yelled Roddy. He got to his feet and winced. “I can hardly put any weight on it now,” he groaned. “What if it's a really bad injury? I might never be able to play again.”

“Don't be so
dramatic
!” shouted Bryn. “It's not broken or anything, is it?”

“No thanks to you,” muttered Roddy, limping painfully towards the house.

Bryn left abruptly, and Roddy didn't bother to say goodbye. He hobbled into the kitchen and sat down at the table.

Liz was there, making lunch. “What's happened to you?” she asked. “Has Bryn gone already?”

“Yes,” said Roddy, pulling down his sock to reveal a puffy looking ankle. “Look what he did,” he added angrily.

“Ah,” said Liz unsympathetically, giving his leg a brief glance. “I expect you'll live.”

“But it's my trial soon! What if it's not better in time?” The break in Roddy's voice got his sister's attention.

“Oh, yeah!” she said, sounding more concerned. “Well, what's wrong with it? Can you move it?”

Roddy tried swivelling his ankle, and winced.

“Aren't you supposed to put it up, with an ice pack on, or something?” Liz suggested. “Here, prop your leg on this chair.”

“We don't have an ice pack,” said Roddy, looking dismally at his swelling ankle. “Perhaps I ought to go to casualty.”

But Liz was already dunking a tea towel in cold water and wringing it out.

“Try this,” she offered.

Roddy wrapped the cloth round his ankle and then leaned back in the chair. He tried to think positively. Some people must get ill or injured before a trial. Surely they'd let him go on another day?

If only I hadn't made Bryn practise tackles with me
, he told himself.
He didn't want to. And he was right. We should have stuck to passing and heading and stuff like that
.

Liz put a glass of squash in front of him. “D'you want me to pass you some pizza?” she offered. She was being so nice to him it was scary. Then the door bell rang. “Hang on. It's probably Izzy. We're going shopping.”