Has Anyone Seen Our Striker? Page 3

  We’d practised corners a lot lately, and I took my place at the near post. I was tall and knew my height would block the goalie’s vision. I watched, heart thumping, as Nika raised her left hand. That meant she was going to cross it towards me. As the ball headed in my direction, I prepared to jump, ignoring all the jostling I could feel going on behind me. I was focused on the ball, thinking this was it, my chance to make up for the last couple of games, but before I could do anything the whistle blew. I looked behind me. Amy was writhing on the ground, her eyes squeezed shut in pain. At first I thought she might be acting – I wouldn’t put it past her – but Hannah’s concern was real enough as she helped Amy hobble off.

  “It was her!” Jenny-Jane called out, pointing to one of the defenders. “She gave her a dead leg, didn’t she.”

  “I never!” the defender retorted.

  “You take it, Eve,” Katie ordered.

  For a moment I didn’t realize what she meant until I saw the referee nodding at me and pointing to the spot. Penalty.

  I took a steadying breath, stepped back two, three, four paces, then I did something stupid. I looked around for Gemma to give me a bit of moral support, but of course she wasn’t there. I knew then I’d miss – and I did. You should have seen that ball blaze over the crossbar. Terrific.

  After that I went from sluggish to slug. I barely moved. From the corner of my eye, I saw Katie signalling to Hannah. Seconds later Dylan was put on in my place. How bad is that? Being subbed for one of the Psycho twins?

  “Are you OK?” Hannah asked as I trudged off the field.

  I slapped on my happy face. “Course I am! The Belles paid me twenty quid to miss that penalty. Think how much chocolate I can get with that!”

  “You daft bat!” Hannah said, shaking her head. “Go and sit with Amy for a minute.”

  I glanced over Hannah’s shoulder to where Amy was sitting on an orange plastic chair; her leg propped up on a bag of balls. “Do I have to?”

  “Course you have to. It’s what team-mates do.”

  This should be interesting, I thought as I headed towards her.

  8

  I began with a curt, “Yo.”

  Amy replied with a curt, “Hey”, but immediately followed it with, “Check this out.” Then she pulled a bag of ice from her thigh and showed me a large red mark.

  “Nasty.”

  “I love it! I’ve never had a sports injury before. I can’t wait to tell Gemma.”

  I gazed across at the game. “I wish she was here now. She always loved playing the Belles.”

  “Did she?”

  “Well, dur!”

  Amy shrugged. “You know me. I totally zoned out when the pair of you talked football.”

  “Yeah. You’re not exactly what you’d call a sports enthusiast, are you? I’m surprised you still turn up.”

  “What with me being so useless.”

  I felt my cheeks singe. It sounded bad when she put it like that. “Kind of.”

  She shrugged. “I have to turn up. I’m the link between Gemma and the Parrs, aren’t I? Lose that and we lose her.”

  “That’s a bit big-headed, isn’t it?”

  Amy threw down the ice pack in exasperation and glared at me. “You just don’t get it, do you? If I don’t get her to play again she’s letting the fear win, and if the fear wins she’s never going to get over being kidnapped, is she? Don’t you ever read the problem pages?”

  I felt as if Amy had thrown the ice pack at me instead of the ground. Of course. How had I missed that? I nodded, to show I understood.

  “Finally!” Amy reached out her hand. I pulled her up and we began to walk towards the touchline, her arm slotted through mine for support.

  “But how can we get her to play if she won’t come to matches or anything?” I asked.

  “That’s the problem. I don’t know. I was hoping you might help me come up with something, seeing as you’re the one who’s got that dream-team thing going with her.”

  “Had.”

  She sighed. “Had, but could have again if we work together. Look, how about we meet at after-school club on Monday? To talk about it?”

  “Sure. I’d like that.”

  “Me, too.”

  A look of understanding passed between us, then Amy unhooked herself and limped towards our pile of coats and bags. I joined Tabinda on the touchline just as the final whistle blew. That was it. We’d lost one–nil to Grove Belles thanks to my missed penalty.

  At home I folded another match out of sight and sighed. As you can see, the list was disappearing faster than a puddle in a desert.

  SOUTHFIELDS ATHLETIC (HOME)

  CUP WEEKEND – NETTIE HONEYBALL CUP SEMIFINAL GROUP “A”:

  TEAMS TBC TEMBRIDGE VIXENS V. PARRS

  LUTTON ASH ANGELS (HOME)

  9

  I spent all Saturday evening and the whole of Sunday trying to figure out how to persuade Gemma to return, but everything I came up with – like phoning or writing – had already drawn a blank. Still, the last thing I wanted was to turn up at after-school club empty-handed. I wanted to prove to Amy that I could bring something to the table, even if it was only a few sandwiches. But by Monday I was still waiting for inspiration, so I did what any Parr would do and called for back-up.

  For once that Monday morning it was me, not Megan, who arranged a meeting with the Mowborough Massive. “Will this take long?” Petra wanted to know as we gathered in the IT Suite again. “Only I’ve got drama club in ten minutes.”

  Eight heads swivelled in my direction. I was nervous, so I started off with a long-winded introduction. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, socceroos, dudes and dudesses…” I caught Megan’s eye. Be serious, her expression read. I stopped and cleared my throat. “OK. You all know I’ve been mega diabolical recently. Missing penalties and little things like that.”

  “Yes,” everyone chorused.

  “Well, apart from penalties, the thing I’m missing most is Gemma. I really want her to come back. Plus, she needs to come back. For her own sake.”

  Amy’s reasoning didn’t seem to have the same impact on the rest of the team as it had had on me. In fact, I was surprised to see a few shrugs. “No one forced her to leave the team,” Megan pointed out.

  “I know, but she’s confused. She needs our help.”

  “We tried to help. We sent her letters and cards with loads of hearts and kisses, but she didn’t reply,” Daisy said.

  “Yes but…”

  “And we’ve all got problems, haven’t we?” JJ interrupted. “It doesn’t stop us coming to football.”

  “But Gemma’s problems are because of football!’ I said, growing exasperated.

  There was a frosty silence. This meeting was not playing out at all like it had in my head. Everyone was meant to come up with loads of ideas for me to take to Amy, not argue with me.

  Lucy tried to soothe things over. “Look, Eve. We all want Gemma back as much as you do, but we’ve been told to back off by her dad and Hannah, so that’s what we’re doing.”

  “But Amy says—” I began but Petra stood up to leave before I could finish and soon everyone was shuffling and gathering bags.

  “One thing before you all go…” Megan said, reclaiming the floor. I sagged with relief, assuming she was going to come out with one of her stirring we’re-all-in-this-together speeches but no. “We need to start thinking about a leaving present for Hannah and Katie,” she said instead and was immediately greeted with way more positive reactions than I’d got.

  Megan smiled. “Cool. Any volunteers to collect money and stuff?”

  “Why don’t you ask Amy or Holly to do it?” I suggested, remembering what Amy had said about us being cliquey but not thinking for one minute Megan would agree.

  To my surprise, she nodded. “Minty. I’ll leave it to you to tell them, then, yeah?”

  “No problem,” I mumbled.

  So that’s how the meeting ended, with me feeling deflated and wi
th the added bonus that I’d landed Amy and Holly a job they probably didn’t want. Another Akboh mess-up.

  10

  “Um … how’s your leg?” I asked the moment Amy stepped through the door at after-school club.

  “Better,” she replied. She hung up her blazer in the cloakroom then raised her eyebrows. “What?”

  “What do you mean ‘what?’”

  “You’re hovering. You never hover.”

  “I have a confession to make,” I told her. “Actually, two confessions.”

  “Don’t tell me. You’ve eaten a deep-fried Mars bar and thrown up in the book corner?”

  “Worse…”

  “You’ve thrown up on Mrs Rose?”

  I frowned. “Will you leave it out with the throwing-up stuff?”

  She grinned and headed into the main room, signed in, turfed two kids out of the book corner and then looked at me. “Well?”

  I took a deep breath and described what a downer the meeting had been. “I got nowhere,” I admitted miserably.

  “Of course you didn’t. They’re putting the needs of the team before the needs of the individual.”

  “Are they?”

  “It’s a classic dilemma in competitive situations.”

  “Is it?”

  “Of course it is. You only have to watch one episode of Junior Apprentice to know that. And the second confession?”

  I was so bamboozled by the “needs of the team” gubbins that she had to repeat the question.

  “Right! The second confession,” I said. This time I spoke so fast I sounded like I’d been inhaling helium gas all day, then squeezed my eyes shut.

  I expected at least a heavy sigh or a “Well, that’s just typical” but when I opened one eye, Amy had this humungous grin on her face. “That’s brilliant!”

  “Is it?”

  “Gemma adores Hannah and Katie. I know she’d want to join in with this.”

  “You think?”

  Amy nodded, her face filled with the same light that I’ve seen in the eyes of old ladies at church when the spirit moves them. “Definitely. This is the subtle thing we needed. Go, Eve! All we need to do now is plan the meetings. We should have them here, on neutral territory.”

  “Are you sure she’ll come? With me being here?”

  “Eve, how many more times? This isn’t about you! Gemma only stopped coming to after-school club because she needed some space to get her head together. That meant cutting out all the things she didn’t have to do so she could concentrate on the bits she did have to do, like go to school.”

  That made sense. Although I hated to admit it, Amy really did know Gemma better than me. “Wow, Amy. Are you going to be a psychologist when you grow up?” I asked her.

  “No. I’m going to be a businesswoman like my mum and Karren Brady. Now, about the meetings. I’ll invite Holly too. It will look less suspicious.”

  “Good call.”

  “And don’t mess up by talking football.”

  “I won’t,” I promised.

  “Let’s start on the gift ideas now,” she said, plunging into her retro leather satchel and pulling out a notebook. She began to jot things down in neat columns, looking up only occasionally to frown, cross something out and then add something else. I just sat there, staring in admiration, realizing I was watching a maestro at work.

  11

  I was sure Amy wouldn’t be able to persuade Gemma to come to after-school club but what did I know? On Tuesday Amy declared she’d done the selling job of her life, and on Wednesday, miracle of miracles, Gemma arrived. She seemed nervous, but then I wasn’t doing an impression of a cool cucumber myself. First she glanced around, like a holidaymaker returning home to check everything was where she’d left it, and then she looked at me.

  We stared at each other for about ten seconds before doing that thing of talking at the same time, which sounded funny and broke the ice. It helped having Holly there, too, especially as she was an after-school club newbie. The three of us focused on making her feel welcome. The even number balanced us out, too, and even if it hadn’t, Amy wasn’t going to give us time to dwell on anything. “Here you go,” she said, producing a badge for each of us.

  We squinted at each other’s labels. Holly was Graphics, Gemma was Researcher, Amy was Chief Buyer and I was Liaison Officer. “Liaison Officer? What’s that?” I asked.

  The Chief Buyer guffawed. “Hello! You liaise! You are the link between the committee and the others. You collect the money, update them with decisions and stuff like that.”

  “I’m not allowed money in school.”

  “No worries. You hand it over to Tracie and she keeps it until we need it.”

  “She’s already offered,” Holly confirmed.

  “Neat,” I said, grinning at Holly. Tracie, Holly’s stepmum, is our lunchtime supervisor. How handy is that?

  Amy continued. “Right. I’ve spoken to Megan. She reckons the handover of the gifts should be at the presentation evening in May, so that only gives us six weeks. It’s going to be a push but we’ll cope.” She began dishing out lists and printouts and magazines and gel pens.

  “Um … before we start, can you show me where the loos are?” Holly asked.

  “Follow me,” Amy said.

  While we waited for them to return I found myself so overwhelmed that Gemma was actually sitting opposite me that I couldn’t think of a thing to say. Actually, that’s a fib. I could think of plenty I wanted to say, like how dreadful I felt about the whole photo episode and how shocked I was when I heard about the kidnapping and how rubbish I’d been playing without her, but I didn’t dare say any of it. I knew I’d scare her right off and then we’d be back to square one. Or minus square one because Amy would have killed me. “Nice to have you back,” I managed instead.

  Her cheeks flushed. “Nice to be back,” she replied.

  12

  Parrs v. Southfields Athletic (home)

  What a difference a few days makes! I bounded out of bed that Saturday morning and almost snapped the pulley right off when I opened my bedroom blinds. “Good morning, wonderful world!” I called out, then galloped downstairs.

  “What’s with you, Hyper Girl?” Claude asked when I entered the kitchen letting rip with a few funky dance moves. “You been on the Nutella?”

  “She can’t have. I polished it off last night,” Samuel informed us.

  “Excuse me, brothers, but not all my happiness is chocolate related.”

  “Since when?” Claude asked as I reached for the Coco Pops (Mum was out – it was safe to do so).

  “FYI, I’m happy because I’m friends with Gemma again.”

  “Cool.”

  “Is she back in the team, then?” Samuel asked.

  “Not yet, but me and Amy are working on it.”

  Claude stood up and began to clear his breakfast things from the table. “Hope so. I felt bad over what happened with Marlon. She’s quality. It would be criminal for her not to play any more.”

  I nodded. There was no arguing with that.

  “How’s it going with Hursty?” Megan asked the second I arrived at the ground.

  “Splendid,” I replied. As Liaison Officer, I’d been keeping everyone informed about our progress and Megan was naturally taking a keen interest.

  “Any chance she’ll be back for the semifinal against the Vixens?”

  “Well…” I began, but Amy arrived out of nowhere and grabbed me.

  “With regret we are unable to give a precise date at this moment in time,” she told Megan before whisking me away.

  “What did you do that for?”

  “Because I know you. You’ll say something silly like ‘For sure she’s coming back’ when she’s nowhere near ready yet.”

  “Sorry,” I apologized because she was right, I would have. But my insides were fizzing. Gemma would come back soon. She would. She had to.

  Meanwhile I was feeling much more confident about my football. Just seeing my old partne
r again had geed me up so much. “Put me on first, please. Pretty please,” I begged Hannah (and I mean begged – I was down on one knee).

  “Get up, you daft doughnut.” She laughed but she did put me on first. Result!

  As I waited for kick-off I could feel the adrenalin pump through me. This was it, I thought, taking in huge gulps of air, This was what it was all about. I looked up at the sky. Wish me luck, Dad.

  Then the whistle blew and it was game on. Poor Southfields. They had always been the whipping boys (or girls) of the league and today was no different. The score at half-time was nine–one to us. I’d like to report I scored a few of those nine but I didn’t. Still, at least I’d vanquished the tent pegs and was running with the ball way better.

  Close to the end of the first half I almost pulled off a great one–two with Nika, but my shot glanced off the post. Our supporters “ooh” ed at that one. When I saw Hannah clapping my effort I put my hand to my forehead and said, “Has anyone seen our striker?” to save her doing it.

  Hannah just laughed and told me, “You’re getting there.”

  Before the start of the second half she called us all together. “If we win I don’t want any silly celebrations at the end. Southfields get thumped every week. Think about how they feel,” she whispered.

  We did win – 14–2 – but we remembered what Hannah had said. We just stood still and waited as their captain called for three cheers for us. It came out as a half-hearted, defeated mumble. But when it was our turn, not only did we give them three rousing cheers, we clapped them off the pitch. “What you doing this for?” a girl called Crystal asked me. “Are you being sarcastic?”

  “No,” I told her. “We’re doing it because you deserve it for never giving up.”

  She shrugged. “What a bunch of weirdos.”

  Charming. There’s no pleasing some people!

  When I filled in the Southfields score that night, my joy at the win evaporated. Look at the fixture list, dude! You have to squint to even see it!