Starting Eleven (4 page)

‘
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 of 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.

‘Can you come out for a bit?’ he asked in a whisper.

‘Why are you whispering?’

‘Can you?’ he repeated.

‘I’ll have to ask . . .’

My dad looked at his watch when I asked him. ‘Where are you going?’

‘With Chris,’ I told him. ‘He’s in the hallway.’

Dad got up and walked out into the hallway with me.

‘It’s OK, Mr Singh,’ Chris said when my dad asked him where we were going. ‘It’s just over to the church – my mum wants us to help with fundraising and there’s a quick meeting today. It’ll be over by seven-thirty . . .’

‘Oh,’ said my dad, smiling. ‘That’s a great idea. Something worthwhile for you layabouts to do. It’ll stop you playing on those silly computers, won’t it? Just make sure you both get home on time, OK?’

‘Thanks, Dad!’ I beamed.

‘And call me if you need a lift,’ he said.

‘OK,’ I replied as I followed Chris out of the front door.

I waited until we were three houses away before I pulled my best friend up.

‘What are you on about?’ I asked. ‘What fundraising?’

Chris grinned. ‘Relax,’ he told me. ‘We’re going to help a good cause.
Our
cause.’

He didn’t say anything else until we got to the end of the road. Abs and Jason were waiting there for us. They looked as puzzled as me.

‘This better be good,’ Abs warned Chris.

‘My mum didn’t want me to come so I had to get my dad to say yes.’

‘Yeah,’ added Jason. ‘My mum isn’t happy either. I have to be home for seven-thirty dead on . . .’

Chris pulled the backpack off his shoulders.
It
was black with two red straps. He unzipped it and pulled out a roll of posters. As the rest of us looked at each other, he unrolled the posters and showed one to us. It was handwritten, in huge letters, and then scanned and photocopied . . .

I shook my head. ‘Are you bonkers?’ I asked Chris.

‘It’ll work,’ he said. ‘All we have to do is put these up all over the place and half the lads won’t turn up until it’s too late.’

Abs started laughing.

‘What if they don’t see the poster?’ asked Jason.

‘If only five of them see it, that’s five
less
people to compete against,’ Chris said.

You’re
stupid
!’ Abs told him.

‘Well, I don’t see
you
doing anything to help,’ Chris said back. He looked a bit hurt.

I looked at the poster again and felt the familiar knot in my stomach. I had to make the final team, but this wasn’t the way we were supposed to do it.

‘We
could
try it,’ I heard myself say. ‘I mean, the trial is tomorrow so it might not even work, but what’s the harm in trying?’

Jason looked unsure. ‘It’s a bit like cheating though, isn’t it?’ he asked.

‘How?’ asked Chris.

‘Well, we should be in the starting eleven because we’re the best ones. Not because we’ve tricked people,’ he explained.

‘Oh, let’s just put them up,’ said Abs suddenly.

‘Changed your tune now?’ asked Chris. ‘Shouldn’t expect anything less from a Man Poo fan . . .’

‘They aren’t going to work,’ Abs said.
‘Just
like Liverpool’s strikers. But that don’t stop the manager from putting
them
out.’ He started laughing at his own joke.

‘Come on then,’ I said. ‘Let’s do it!’

Chapter 6

Thursday

WE PUT THE
posters up everywhere. On lampposts, bins, bus stops. We even stuck one on the notice board outside the local church. Then we all ran home. I tried not to think about it all the next day – the posters or the trial.

Six o’clock came round so quickly but our scam hadn’t made any difference. By the time we got to the youth club all the lads from the first trial were already there. And Mr Turner was standing with a group of parents
staring
at one of our posters.

‘I really don’t know,’ I heard him say as I walked over to where he was standing.

‘They were everywhere, Steve,’ added one of the parents, a tall man with grey hair.

‘It’s very strange,’ continued Mr Turner. ‘I didn’t change the time and nor did Ian James, so I can’t for the life of me understand why—’

That was all I heard because I walked away to go and tell the others what had happened.

‘It didn’t work,’ I said to them.

‘Knew it wouldn’t,’ replied Abs. ‘It was a stupid idea. Just like making a football team called Liverpool–’

‘Shut up, you chav!’ Chris shouted.

I sighed. ‘Can we just concentrate on the trial?’ I asked.

Jason nodded. ‘Yeah. It doesn’t matter
about
the posters. It was cheating anyway,’ he said.

‘But I did it for all of us,’ said Chris. ‘And how was I supposed to know it wasn’t going to work?’

‘Who cares?’ replied Abs, in his usual cocky way. ‘We’re gonna get into the starting eleven – trust me . . .’

‘Bit hard to trust a Man Poo fan,’ I said.

‘Least I ain’t got a face like a toilet brush,’ replied Abs.

As we walked into the changing rooms at the clubhouse, Jason asked Abs how someone could have a face like a toilet brush.

‘Just look in the mirror,’ he replied, giggling at his own joke. As usual.

The other lads were already changing when we got inside and I ended up getting ready between Steven and Adam – the big lad.

‘You’re back!?’ Adam said, smirking. ‘I
thought
only the good players could come back?’

I gave him a funny look. ‘What does that mean, mate?!’

Adam just went on, ‘I didn’t play my best last time so I’m going to be even better this time,’ he said.

‘That wouldn’t be hard,’ Chris said from the bench opposite.

‘We’ll see,’ Adam warned.

In my head I was worried about what Adam had said. He was so much bigger than the rest of us. And if he had a problem with me, what could I do about it? I didn’t want him to know I was worried though. So I tried to see if I could wind him up. He’d started on me so it was fair game.

‘There’s girls I know that play better than you,’ I said.

Adam spun round and faced up to me.

‘You what?’ he said, screwing up his face.

‘
Girls
,’ Chris told him. ‘You know, them people that don’t have anything to do with ugly freaks like you?’

I could see that Adam was getting angrier and I wondered whether we should stop pushing him but Chris didn’t care.

‘And how big
are
your feet anyway?’ he asked Adam. ‘Munster or Shrek size?’

Adam clenched his fists by his side. They were huge. ‘You’re gonna regret saying that!’ he told Chris. ‘Even if I don’t get into
this
team. It ain’t the
only
team in the league . . .’