Long Shot (3 page)

“I don't see any tree tunnel around here,” said Marek, looking about him.

“It's at the back,” said Roddy, leading the way.

Sure enough, behind the changing rooms, there was a double row of young trees with a path between them.

“It's fantastic!” said Marek enthusiastically. “And how clever, to grow the trees like this to make a tunnel.”

“Wait until you see the seats,” said Geno. “It looks so strange, doesn't it, having a bunch of stadium seats without the stadium.”

Jimmy shrugged. He seemed a bit uneasy.

“On the day of the trial, I almost sat in the one that's all charred from the fire,” said Roddy. “But no one is allowed to sit in it because it was Jon Masters's seat when he came here as a child.”

Keira laughed. “There's a whole mythology about the place, isn't there,” she said. “Did they tell you there was supposed to be a
ghost here? The girl who showed our group round said that someone died in the old stadium fire, and their ghost haunts this tree tunnel leading to the football field, and the seats as well.”

“I don't believe that!” laughed Roddy. “Our guide said that the old stadium was burnt down after it had been abandoned. There wasn't anyone there to get hurt in the fire.”

“There might have been,” said Jimmy. “It
is
spooky here.”

“You don't believe in ghosts, do you, Jimmy?” Roddy grinned at his roommate, but his smile faded as he realised Jimmy was serious. “Come on, people are always making up spooky stories. It doesn't mean they're true. Besides, who could believe in ghosts on a day like today?”

He was right. The sun was shining, and everything looked quite harmless, but as they
got further into the tree tunnel, the light changed to a kind of green dusk, and the rustling leaves
did
sound uncannily like people whispering. The temperature had dropped a bit, too. It would be easy to imagine all kinds of things going on here.

“I think I'll wait for you,” said Jimmy, backing away to the start of the tunnel again.

“Once we're in the first team, and allowed to walk down here onto the Stadium pitch, you won't be thinking of ghosts!” said Geno.

“Let him go,” said Roddy quietly, as Jimmy hurried away. “I think he's quite superstitious.”

At the far end of the tunnel, they emerged once again into sunlight. The pitch lay straight ahead, but Keira stopped Marek from walking onto it. “It's out of bounds,” she warned. “We have to earn the right to play on it – which means we need to get into the first team for our year. I can't wait!”

Marek had a look at the preserved seats – the only ones that were left from the original stand. It was just a couple of rows of wooden seats. Most of them were brightly painted in the blue-and-green Stadium School colours, but one stood out amongst them – it was charred black, and had obviously been left that way since the fire.

“Don't sit down!” shouted Geno.

“Why not?” said Marek, who was just about to sit on one of the painted seats. “I'm not stupid; I wasn't going to sit in Jon Masters's seat.”

“But the painted ones are only for the winners of the house competition,” explained Roddy. “The rest of us have to stand on the touchline to watch big matches.”

“We will be sitting there at the end of the year,” predicted Marek in his serious voice.

“Let's hope so,” said Roddy. “Come on.
We'd better go back and find Jimmy. It's almost time for our next class.”

At the end of the afternoon, there was another training session. This time, Mr Jenkins announced that they would play a match. The students in Banks House would play against Moore, while Charlton took on Stiles.

Roddy had thought he was pretty fit, but he struggled to keep up with several of the group, including Keira. She was seriously good, and Roddy realised that if he wanted to get into the first team he'd need to work hard, and harder still if he was going to make it as captain.

Charlton took an early lead, but Roddy felt he was struggling to make an impression on the game, while Keira was drawing Mr Jenkins' most vocal praise.

Jones is looking a little subdued today, and
definitely not having a good game by his own high standards. Luckily for Charlton House, the slack is being taken up by his midfield partner, Sanders. She is causing the Stiles defence all sorts of problems with her spectacular runs and searching passes. The ball comes to Jones now, but he plays the simple pass to Sanders, who goes off on another run. Jones follows the play up the pitch, but is not involved as Sanders threads the ball expertly between the central defenders to play in Dvorski, who almost bursts the net with a powerful strike. The outcome of this match is put beyond doubt, and the coach calls time on this disappointing outing for Jones, who makes way for a substitute. He's going to have to play a lot better than this to catch the eye of his new manager.

As both teams trooped off the pitch, Mr Jenkins had words of encouragement for every player, but Roddy was sure that he
singled Keira out for special praise. A token few words was not enough for him. He told himself that he would do better the next day. Keira was a seriously good player, and he was determined to be every bit as good as she was.

At breakfast the next morning, Roddy and his friends were chatting quietly when a senior boy stood up and banged the table to get attention.

“House meetings for first years will take place straight after tea today,” he announced. “Stiles will squeeze into the library, Charlton will be in the hall, Banks at the gym, and as last year's winning team, Moore gets to stay in the dining room.”

There was an even greater buzz of chatter as the boy sat down again, but it was nearly time to get ready for training, so they quickly finished their breakfast and, after registration, headed over to the changing rooms.

As before, Mr Jenkins concentrated on building up their physical strength.

“It doesn't matter how good you are,” he said. “If you can't run for the last ten minutes of a game, you'll concede goals against teams who can. It's the score at the end of a match that's important, not half-time. So, three laps of the pitch while I set up some sprint exercises for you. Get going, everyone!”

After training, it was maths, one of Roddy's least favourite lessons. Mr Henderson tried to make it more interesting with football-related questions, but it was difficult to make percentages fun. Roddy decided that if he made it big, he would have an agent to work out the fine details of his contract.
He
would concentrate on playing great football.

Before lunch, Mr Jenkins gave a lesson on tactics. Roddy had been looking forward to it, and hurried to get a good seat in the swanky
media centre. The junior coach spent most of the time introducing everyone to the different programmes they could use to demonstrate tactics. There was one similar to the kind that pundits used on TV to highlight important players in the playbacks. Another programme allowed you to move virtual players around and organise them to play in different ways.

“A lot of people are still using boards with magnets to do this kind of thing,” said Mr Jenkins. “But at Stadium School we can use the latest technology to make it much more realistic. For instance, when we show a corner-taking routine, we can factor in things like the heights of players, and then play the set piece through to see how it works.”

He loaded up a plan that the senior teams used, and ran it through to show them. The figures on the screen were obviously not real
players, but the way they moved was very convincing. The first time Mr Jenkins ran the simulation, a defender managed to clear the ball, but the second time, it rocketed into the back of the net, getting a few cheers from the class. Roddy found it fascinating, and for the rest of the day his head was filled with formations and set pieces.

Later, when it was time for the house meeting, Roddy and his friends hurried over to the hall.

A senior boy took charge. “I'm David Leval,” he said. “I'm in my final year at Stadium School, and I was voted captain of Charlton last term. It's my job to tell the new students what our house is all about.”

“Hopefully winning!” Keira whispered to Roddy.

“A major part of the house competition is the football,” David continued, after giving
Keira a sharp look. “But it's not all just about winning. Although the most points are given for a win, other points are given for goals scored and clean sheets, and they're taken off for red and yellow cards. Charlton are known for our attacking approach on the pitch, and we always try to rack up as many bonus points for goals as we can.”

Roddy smiled to himself, anticipating all the great attacking play he would be doing. He imagined himself scoring shedloads of goals.

“Don't forget,” David continued. “The teachers don't let us get away with shoddy academic work, and if they think we're slacking, they're quite capable of giving us a yellow, or even a red, card for that. A yellow card means minus ten points and a red is minus 25. And, just like in a match, a red card means you miss the next house match, so we want you to avoid cards as much as possible.”

“But what if you're just not very good at a subject?” asked Roddy. “It seems a bit harsh.”

“Good point,” said David. “Of course we'll be thrilled if you're an academic whiz; the bonus points can help a lot. But the red and yellow cards are used to punish lack of effort. As long as you're trying, the teachers will be happy enough. What they don't want is for us to be so focused on football that we forget about everything else.”

“Our housemaster said we could be docked points for bad behaviour, too,” said a boy to Roddy's left.

David nodded. “That's right,” he said. “Bad behaviour can also get a red or yellow card. So you see, it's not just winning our house matches that's important, we have to make sure we don't lose unnecessary points and, if possible, we need to win a few, too.

“Good leadership gets points, and helpful
behaviour. You don't need to suck up to the teachers,” he said hastily, as several groans went up. “Just concentrate on not being total idiots.”

“Make sure you don't prat about then, Roddy,” said Keira with a cheeky grin.

David glared at Keira's interruption. “It doesn't matter so much now,” he said. “But talking in lessons can easily lose you points, and if you keep it up, you might receive a yellow card.”

Keira blushed.

“OK,” David went on. “We'll have a run out of you first years before tea tomorrow. We want to see what we've got in the way of talent in our new players. We were so close to winning the House Cup last year; you lot could make all the difference.

“Of course, as juniors you play mixed football. The seniors play single-sex games,
so we don't have so many people to choose from. But it's the same for every house, and all the Charlton teams do pretty well, right the way up through the school. Don't forget, there is a cup for each year, too – an extra incentive to do your best in all the matches.”

Roddy felt really excited. He wanted to talk about it with his friends. But David was speaking again.

“The first house matches will be later in the week,” he said. “So you'll be able to come and cheer our teams on. Hopefully we will inspire you! First years don't start matches until the week before half term, to give you time to bond as a team both on and off the pitch. As you know, everyone plays six games a term, apart from the first years, who only have three in their first term.”

Roddy and Geno grinned at each other.

“Right,” said David. “That's about it. Don't
forget to come along to practice straight after lessons tomorrow. We'll meet on the field nearest the changing rooms. I'll be there and so will Sam.” He nodded towards a friendly looking girl with short, brown hair. “Sam will be the Charlton first years' coach.”