What's Ukrainian for Football? Read online

  There were about twenty of them. The man who had told Hannah where our chalet was now stepped up to the microphone. He said he was called Tom. He welcomed us and said how great it was to see so many faces, old and new. “It is a record turn-out.” He smiled. “That just shows how girls’ football is becoming more and more popular.”

  That made everyone cheer.

  “Now for the exciting bit!” Tom announced. “Sally, the balls, please!”

  From the side of the stage, a lady in a tracksuit pushed what looked like an enormous goldfish bowl on wheels in front of her. The bowl was full of ping-pong balls.

  “What is this?” I asked Lucy.

  “I think this is where we find out who we are during the tournament. When our team is called, they’ll match it to a country.”

  “Oh.”

  “Fingers crossed we get England!”

  “Oh yes,” I said. “I see.” I crossed my fingers like she and all the others on my row were doing.

  We had quite a long wait. All the Under 9s and 10s had to go first. Then it was our turn. The first team to be drawn were called the Lincoln Griffins Lionesses. Tom sifted through the ping-pong balls and pulled one out from the bottom. “Brazil!” he announced.

  “Yay!” voices from near the front cheered.

  “Ooh,” Megan whispered, “not bad. Brazil were my second choice, with the USA third.”

  Sally then read out the next team name: “Camelford Youth …”

  “… are Korea DPR!”

  “Strong team,” Lucy muttered.

  One by one the Under 11s teams were matched to a country. Sweden, Denmark, Germany, Republic of Ireland, the Netherlands, Canada, Italy … were all allotted but England, among others, still remained and so did we, among others. Then Sally read out our name: “The Parrs …”

  Lucy clung to my arm. We held our breath as Tom fumbled among the remaining balls.

  “… are Ukraine,” he announced.

  I forgot I should have been waiting for England. “Wahoo!” I cried, and I jumped up and punched the air.

  As soon as I sat back down I realized from the silent, grumpy faces that I had made a mistake. How many times had Mama and Tato told us that we must show respect for the country we now lived in? Jumping up and punching the air was not showing respect.

  “I am sorry for yelling out loud,” I said to everyone as we headed back to our chalets. “I got excited when the man said Ukraine.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Katie said, patting me on the head. “I’d have done the same; it’s only natural. What a coincidence, eh?”

  “Yes,” I said, “a big coincidence.”

  Behind me, Megan sighed. “I suppose us getting England was a long shot.”

  “It made it worse when it took ages for England to be drawn. We built our hopes up,” Petra added.

  “It would have been great, though, wouldn’t it? I’d have loved to tell my brothers that I’d played for England. It’s more than they ever will.” Eve laughed.

  I began to chew my lip. How disappointed they all were! Then Jenny-Jane piped up. “At least Nika’s happy,” she said, with a cold edge to her voice. “She’s got what she wanted.”

  My heart raced. “I did not expect this…” I began apologetically, leaning forward so that I could look her in the eye.

  “You got it, though, didn’t you?” she snapped back.

  Hannah, walking alongside Jenny-Jane, gave her a friendly hug. “Hey! There’s no need for that! Just remember, the country you get doesn’t really matter. The teams are still really only from Huddersfield or Plymouth or wherever.”

  “Ukraine, though! I’d rather have had Scotland than them.” Jenny-Jane sniffed. “I mean, what have they ever won?”

  “Ooh, I wouldn’t go dissing Scotland, JJ. Dylan and Daisy will set their granny on you,” Eve joked.

  “Wales, then,” Jenny-Jane muttered. “I’d rather have had Wales than lame Ukraine.”

  I lowered my head so no one would see my red face.

  Hannah quickly clapped her hands together. “Right. Who’s up for a game of charades back at ours?”

  “Me, me, me!” Megan’s dad said, jumping up and down.

  Megan rolled her eyes at her mum. “Mum! You promised if I let you come he’d behave!”

  Everyone laughed, me included. It was a relief to be able to focus on someone else.

  5

  The next morning we had to travel in the minibus to the playing fields. The Under 11s league was to be held at a secondary school, eight kilometres away. Both today and tomorrow we would be playing five matches. This sounds ridiculous, but each match is only six minutes each way, with breaks in between.

  Tom and another of the organizers, Tamsyn, met us on the fields to tell us our schedule. “First to arrive! Well done! Ukraine, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” Hannah replied.

  At the mention of the word Ukraine, I felt my stomach clench. So far this morning, nobody had talked about not being England, but they hadn’t talked about being Ukraine, either. I got the feeling everyone was “making do” with it.

  I listened self-consciously as Tom told us the arrangements. “This morning, Ukraine, you’re meeting Russia first, followed by Australia, then Sweden. This afternoon you take on China and the USA. Don’t worry if you don’t remember; there’s a list on the board outside the changing rooms. Results will be recorded there – but just so you know, we’ve decided not to display goal difference this year.”

  “Why not?” Megan asked.

  “In case any teams lose by several goals. We don’t want to knock anyone’s confidence.” When he saw Megan’s outraged expression he laughed. “I know, I know. Not my decision.”

  “I hate it when they treat us like babies,” she complained.

  Tom nodded, then continued, “Toilets and so on are in the changing rooms. Good luck.”

  We were already changed, so we didn’t need to use the changing rooms. Instead, we inspected the empty group table, to see which other teams we’d be meeting. It looked like this:

  Sherburn Sands 7th Festival of Football Fun World Cup Competition

  Girls’ Under 11s Group 1

  My heart sank when I saw that Ukraine were bottom but one. I knew the list was in alphabetical order, but it seemed like an omen. I could almost read Jenny-Jane’s thoughts: “See, told you they were lame.”

  As I sat on the grass and pulled on my boots, a heavy feeling settled inside me. Was it only yesterday I’d perched so happily on Uncle’s back step to clean them? I sighed, remembering how excited I’d been. How anxious to get going.

  The boots began to rub as soon as I squeezed my feet into them. No matter, I thought, jumping up and beginning my stretches; no matter.

  “Right, girls,” Hannah said, gathering us round after our warm-up. “These matches are only short, but don’t go tearing round the pitch. We haven’t got any subs, so pace yourselves. I don’t want you flaking out by lunchtime.”

  “OK,” we replied.

  “Now, let’s have Megan in goal, with Petra and Lucy at the back for starters… Gemma, I’ll have you central midfield, with Nika and Jenny-Jane assisting. Eve, you go up front. OK?”

  “I’m on it, chief!” Eve said with a salute.

  Hannah laughed and saluted back. “Let’s go and enjoy ourselves. Remember, this is a fun tournament – right?”

  Fun? It didn’t feel much like fun at the moment.

  6

  I confess I did not play well in the games against Russia, Australia or Sweden. I could feel my boots rubbing against my heels, sending shooting pains up the backs of my calves, with every step I took. It was agony, making me slow and clumsy. But if I was bad, it was nothing compared with Jenny-Jane.

  I should make it clear that despite Jenny-Jane not being very nice to me sometimes, I still rate her as a player. She is like a mosquito, buzzing in and out, barging the opposition off the ball, holding possession for as long as she can – often longer th
an she should – before passing or shooting. She is brave and she is loyal.

  Today, though, she was not any of these things. Today, whenever there was a fifty-fifty ball in her area, she seemed happy to let the opposition have it. There was no chasing. No tackling. No shouting. No bravery. This was not just for the first match, but for all of them. The mosquito had turned into a potato.

  I suppose because our results were mixed – we lost to Russia one–nil, drew two–all with Australia and beat Sweden three–nil – nobody else noticed.

  “Four points. Could be worse,” Megan said simply as we gathered round the board at the end of the morning.

  So that was that.

  But if nobody else noticed Jenny-Jane’s attitude on the pitch before lunch, they did after it. She hardly moved during the match against China. Potato? A statue of a potato, more like! Once, just as she was about to reach a loose ball she stopped dead, allowing the China defender, who’d been miles away, to pounce. The defender stared at her in disbelief, unable to believe her luck. We lost that one three–two.

  During the short break before our final match of the day, against the USA, Hannah took Jenny-Jane to one side. Everyone tried not to stare, and huddled round the bags and drinks.

  “What’s with JJ?” Gemma asked in a loud whisper. “I passed her the ball at least three times and she just ignored it.”

  “Same here,” Eve said.

  I glanced across to where Jenny-Jane was deep in conversation with Hannah. “I … I know what it is,” I said quietly.

  Everyone looked at me expectantly. “What?” Eve asked.

  I hesitated, torn between not wanting to talk about Jenny-Jane behind her back and the need to explain. “I think it’s because we are Ukraine and she doesn’t want to be Ukraine.”

  Lucy frowned. “What? That’s bonkers.”

  “She did take not getting England quite hard,” Megan mumbled.

  Petra snorted. “You can say that again. She kept going on and on all night. I told her to put a sock in it in the end, and Megan threw her pillow at her.”

  “Seriously?” Eve asked. “But Hannah explained about…” She cut her sentence short as Jenny-Jane stormed past us, her dark eyes flashing like a cornered cat’s. We fell into an uneasy silence and looked everywhere but in her direction.

  Just for the record, we lost to the USA, too. Three–nil. We needn’t have lost, in my opinion; I thought the USA goals were avoidable, the first went in off Lucy’s knee, the second and third after Megan fumbled catches she would normally have dealt with easily. That’s the thing with seven-a-side football. One person’s mood can affect everybody else’s.

  We were all quiet on the minibus afterwards. Mr and Mrs Fawcett tried really hard to get some sort of conversation going, but it didn’t work and even they lapsed into silence. It was awful. How I wished Tom had picked another country for us. Any country apart from mine.

  When we arrived back in Sherburn Sands, Hannah jumped down from the driver’s seat on one side of the minibus and Katie on the other. We all stood in the car park, waiting.

  “OK, ladies and gentleman. It’s free time now, but I think we could all do with a bit of a rest before we start any other group activities,” Hannah said, sounding a little too bright, and she was careful not to look at any of us in particular. Instead she checked her mobile. “It’s just coming up to quarter-past three. Let’s meet again at half-four and go for a paddle in the sea before dinner. Last one in the water buys the ice-creams – deal?”

  That idea seemed to cheer people up. “Deal,” we chorused.

  7

  Once inside our chalet, Hannah went for a shower and the rest of us changed in our bedrooms. “I hope JJ sorts herself out,” Lucy said as she pulled her Parrs shirt over her head. “I hate bad atmospheres.”

  “Mmm,” I replied, trying not to wince as I undid my laces.

  “I mean, I know it’s a shame we’re not England, but come on. Get over it.”

  I shrugged. I didn’t really want to talk about it at all; it churned me up too much. Instead I told her how nice it would be to paddle in the sea.

  “Nice and freezing cold.” Lucy grunted, then foraged in her rucksack and pulled out a Manchester United T-shirt and matching shorts. On her feet she wore a pair of flip-flops.

  “That’s me done!” she declared.

  I chose shorts, too, and a plain T-shirt, but I decided to keep my football socks on. My heels were still throbbing and I didn’t dare take the socks off in case my skin peeled away – and it really, really felt as if it might.

  Back in the living area, Eve and Gemma were watching TV, with Katie near by reading Heat magazine. “Who’s going to make me a cup of tea, then?” Katie asked.

  “I will!” I volunteered, glad of an activity to do.

  “Thanks, chuck. Black, two sugars.”

  “Really? That is how my uncle likes his.” I glanced at the telephone on the worktop. A sudden urge to talk to my family overcame me. “Katie … would it be OK to call home?”

  She looked at me searchingly for a moment. “Sure,” she said.

  “I won’t be long … just a few minutes.”

  “Go for it.”

  I dialled as I waited for the kettle to boil. The phone rang and rang. Where was everybody? I knew Mama and Tato would be at work, but Yuri should have been there. Or Sofi, even. My eyes prickled. “Answer, answer,” I willed, desperate to hear a familiar voice before I faced Jenny-Jane again.

  Finally, Uncle answered. “Yes? Who is it?”

  I smiled. He did not have the best telephone manner. “Uncle. It’s Nika.”

  “Veronika! How are you?”

  “Good,” I said.

  “I am glad you called. It is so quiet here. Yuri and Sofi have gone with your mother to the library.”

  “Is Mama not at work?”

  “Not today, no.”

  There was a long pause. I had nothing to say and yet so much to say – but it was difficult in a room full of people.

  It was Uncle who broke the silence. “So, how is the tournament going? How many goals have you scored? Ten? Twenty?”

  “None!”

  “None! Oh dear.”

  “I…” My throat felt jammed with words. I glanced across at everyone. Nobody seemed to be listening, but… I took a deep breath and changed to Ukrainian. “Actually, it’s not going so good, Uncle.”

  He continued to speak in English. “Oh? How come? It is badly organized?”

  “No. It is well organized. It’s just that we were all given a country for the World Cup, and everybody wanted to be England but we got—”

  “Don’t tell me. Scotland!” Uncle interrupted.

  “No. Ukraine.”

  “Ukraine? Oh-ho! That is fantastic.”

  “Not really,” I said and told him what had happened. “One of the girls isn’t happy. She isn’t even trying to play.”

  “She is a poor sport?”

  “I guess. I think she just thinks it is a rubbish team because we haven’t won anything.”

  “Haven’t won anything? Puhh! That’s all she knows.”

  “Well, we haven’t won the World Cup, have we. Or the European Cup, either.”

  “So what? Sometimes there are things more important in sport than cups and medals. Sometimes there is honour at stake. And pride. And even life.” His voice rose higher and higher, as it did when he became emotional.

  “I know, but…”

  “Veronika!” Uncle said sharply. “Do you remember the story I told you about FC Start?”

  “Of course, Uncle. It is my favourite.”

  “Well, I only told you half of it.”

  “Half?”

  “Yes. I have only told you up to the end of the match. I have never told you what happened afterwards, have I?”

  “Afterwards? What do you mean? What happened afterwards?”

  “Afterwards was when I fully understood the true meaning of bravery in sport.” He hesitated then. “It
is a little harrowing, though. Maybe you are too young.”

  “Tell me, Uncle. I need to know.”

  He took a deep breath. “Yes,” he said. “I think you do.”

  So he told me. He told me and I listened. I listened and I listened. I listened with tears running down my cheeks that I had to wipe away quickly, hoping no one would notice. I listened with such a pain in my heart I thought I must have angina like Babka gets sometimes.

  “So, Veronika Kozak,” Uncle said finally. “When the time is right, you tell her to stick that in her pipe and smoke it.”

  It was a confusing instruction. “I don’t think she smokes, Uncle.”

  “Just tell her!” he rasped.

  “I will.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  8

  I turned to see everyone looking at me. “Oh,” I said. “Er … hello.”

  “Hello.” Katie grinned, sliding past to rinse out a beaker in the sink.

  My hand flew to my mouth. “Oh, your tea! I’m sorry! I forgot.”

  “I forgive you; thousands wouldn’t.”

  Lucy came to stand next to me. “You’re really pale. Are you OK?” she asked.

  I gave her a tight smile. “Yes, I am fine,” I lied. In fact, I felt a little woozy, like you do when you have come out of a dark cinema and it is still light.

  “You were talking really fast in Ukrainian,” Gemma said. “Not that we understood any of it.”

  Eve wriggled her eyebrows. “Or that we were eavesdropping or anything.”

  “I’m fine, really. It was something my uncle was telling me. I just need a minute to myself…”

  Eve promptly told me I couldn’t have one. “It’s twenty to five and no way am I buying the ice-creams.”

  I glanced at the clock in disbelief. Had I been on the phone that long? Dazed, I began to follow Eve and Gemma – but Lucy tugged my arm.

  “It’s OK, I’m fine,” I reassured her again, thinking she was still worried about me.

  “I know. I heard you. I just thought you might like to put some shoes on first.”