Do Shinpads Come in Pink? Read online

  Gemma nodded. “It’s great,” she said, but I could tell from her tone she was thinking, Is that it? Is that what we’ve spent all the money on?

  I turned to Shane and then pointed to the packages. “She had them in, then?”

  His eyes twinkled. “She certainly did.”

  “May we see?”

  Shane slid one of the packages towards him. They were wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with a matt silver bow. He undid one of the bows carefully, then pulled out a crushed pink velvet drawstring bag. So sweet! Nestling inside the bag was one of the two identical silver necklaces I’d chosen from his sister Rachael’s brochure. The brochure had been lying on the counter last night and I’d flicked through it to try to hide my wet face. There, right on page one, I’d seen the totally perfect gift for our coaches. I could tell from Gemma’s reaction that she thought so too. “Oh, it’s beautiful. So delicate. I love the tiny footballs,” she said.

  “Shane’s sister made them. She’s dead clever.”

  “I’ll pass on your compliments,” Shane said, coaxing the necklace back into the bag and muttering that he’d never be able to tie the ribbon back up again with his turnipy thumbs.

  While he did that I burrowed into my bag and brought out all the money we’d collected. “Hope that covers it,” I said to Carol as pound coins rolled everywhere.

  It did but only just. Shane had done the T-shirts for free but of course the necklaces weren’t.

  “See you later, then. Have a good time,” Shane said, holding the door open.

  “He was friendly,” Gemma said when we were outside.

  “Indeed.” I smiled.

  After that it was crazy busy. We had lunch at Nando’s, then Kriss dropped me off at home. I left the presents and T-shirts with Gemma so that she could hand them over when she arrived at the club. It gave me one less thing to stress about.

  Upstairs, I packed my trainers and Ashley’s ball into a Monsoon bag, had a shower, washed my hair and put on my specially selected outfit. I’d gone deliberately boho to maintain my fashionista rep. Despite the extra prep time I was ready and waiting in the shop for Holly by 2.55 p.m.

  Mum was serving a customer, which gave me a chance to go over my plan. So, after we’d finished the song, I’d do the bit about moisturizer (ho ho), then I’d flip my ballet pumps into the audience, pull on the trainers, get out the football and go into my freestyle routine. There’d be stunned silence, followed by cheering (with Megan leading the standing ovation probs). I’d take a bow, maybe sign a few autographs. And cut!

  “Angel?” Mum was saying.

  “Mmm,” I said dreamily, still imagining the shock on JJ’s face.

  “Holly’s here.”

  So she was, waving frantically at me through the window. Mum gave me a kiss, told me I looked gorgeous and wished me good luck.

  I took a deep breath.

  This was it.

  The presentation evening.

  Bring it on!

  When we arrived at the function room, it was hectic. Everyone was hyper. Daisy and Dylan were flying round the room pretending to be aeroplanes; Tabinda’s dad was rounding everyone up so he could take photos; Eve and Lucy were blowing balloons up and batting them about; and everyone else was crowding around Hannah and Katie.

  Good, I thought. All this confusion would give me a chance to hide my bag somewhere. I strode across to the stage area and tucked it behind the curtain. I felt all tingly. In less than an hour I’d be doing my stuff on that parquet flooring. Scary.

  The tingling increased when Hannah clapped her hands and gathered us all together. She wasn’t in her tracksuit today and looked so different in her sleeveless shift dress and heels. See, you can look pretty and be sporty, I wanted to tell JJ.

  “It’s so fab to see you all,” Hannah began, her eyes sweeping round the whole room. She talked about the season and how proud she was of us all and everything we’ve achieved. Then Mandy drew back the stage curtain to reveal a trestle-table groaning with trophies. I gasped. Not because of the size of the trophies (please – they’re not real gold or anything) but because I’d presumed that was where we’d be doing our dance and therefore my routine.

  I dug Gemma in the ribs. “Where are we doing the dance?” I whispered.

  “On the carpet here,” she whispered back.

  “Oh,” I said, telling myself it didn’t matter. I could fetch the ball when I went up for my medal. (F.Y.I. yes, I get a medal. Don’t sound so surprised – everybody gets a medal. Last year I stuffed mine in the back of a drawer somewhere and forgot all about it. I wouldn’t be doing that this time, though.)

  First came the big awards. Lucy won Coaches’ Player of the Year and Nika won the Players’ Player of the Year. Tabinda and Jenny-Jane shared “Most Improved” and Megan won “Clubman” for the second year running.

  When it was my turn to go up (last – go figure) I was surprised by how emotional I felt. Nobody seemed to be clapping any less heartily for me. In fact, Gemma and Holly were whistling and Daisy shouted, “Go, Amy Mint humbug! We love you!”

  I felt my eyes prick with tears as I stared at the gilt disc with a football on it. “Thank you,” I whispered as Katie presented it to me.

  “You’re welcome,” she said, then added, “babe,” and everyone laughed.

  Hannah gave me a huge hug. “I’ll miss you.”

  “Back at you,” I replied, my voice breaking. I walked away, sniffing and TOTALLY FORGETTING TO PICK UP MY MONSOON BAG. Noooooooooooooooooo.

  I turned back, intending to fetch it but Hannah was talking again and I didn’t want to seem rude, so I just stood there, biting my lip and trying to listen.

  “Anyway, thanks for everything and…” She paused and looked around. “We were hoping to introduce you to the new coach but she’s not here yet, so I guess we should all start mingling…”

  I felt sick. This was it. The handing over of the presents bit followed by the leavers’ song followed by… I swallowed, hoping Hannah and Katie would like the gifts I’d chosen for them. I waited for Nika and Dylan to hand them over, but it was JJ and Tabinda who stepped forward. From behind the stage curtain, Mandy Leggitt unexpectedly produced two huge bouquets of flowers. She handed one bunch to JJ and the other to Tabinda. ‘“These are for you,” JJ said, her voice croaky as she thrust her bouquet at Hannah.

  “Aw, these are lovely…” Hannah began. But before she could finish Nika and Dylan had dashed forward with the official prezzies and Lucy was following behind with the box of T-shirts. My stomach did a somersault. The T-shirts were meant for after. Never mind. Never mind.

  There was a hush as Hannah and Katie opened the packages and brought out the velvet bags. I held my breath.

  “Aw!” they both said at the same time when they saw the silver necklaces.

  Hannah’s eyes glistened. “That’s fabulous.” She held it up for everyone to see. The room filled with “ooh”s and “ahh”s.

  “Well done,” Gemma said to me, but my mind had already moved forward. It was the song next, surely? And after the song… Argh! My palms were sweaty. “Is this where we do the dance?” I croaked.

  “Think so. Eve’s going to signal.”

  I was so nervous and I still hadn’t managed to sidle over to the curtains to get the ball. Lucy was blocking my way. She was waiting for the fuss over the flowers and gifts to die down before she presented the T-shirts to Hannah and Katie. “I’d give them now,” I suggested, wanting her to move out of the way so I could sneak across to the stage – but just as she stepped forward Mr Shah appeared out of nowhere. What was he doing getting in on the act? Oh, crumbs. He was going to make a speech!

  He went on for AGES about Hannah and Katie’s contributions, wishing “the ladies” luck in the future, blah-blah-blah. It was all fair enough and I totally agreed with every word but COME ON!

  Lucy was straight in with the T-shirts the second he finished. “Amy had these done specially for us all…”

  Ever
ybody looked at me and I blushed my head off. “Just a small … um … thank you,” I said as the T-shirts were given out. I could have – should have – fetched my bag then, but I was torn between doing that and watching everyone’s faces as they read the writing on the T-shirts and tried them on. In the end, I went for watching – and laughing. Daisy and Dylan’s came to their ankles.

  Then Gemma grabbed my hand and I really started to sweat. It was time for the singing, and after the singing…

  Eve called for everyone’s attention. “Wait up, dudes. There’s more. You didn’t think the leavers would just walk off into the sunset, did you? No chance. We’ve got a song we’d like to sing for Hannah, Katie and all the rest of you – Meggo, Petra, Tabs, JJ, Psycho One and Psycho Two. The best team-mates anyone could have. This is for you…”

  Everyone shuffled back to make space for us as we lined up. Holly, Nika and Eve on my left, Gemma and Lucy on my right.

  The bag! I still hadn’t got the bag! Too late. The music had started and we were off. I had words to sing. And I did sing them, loud and clear along with everyone else but it was really difficult. My mind kept jumping to the next bit – my bit. Then, just as I was about to deliver my line about moisturizer, Daisy leapt up and yelled, “Sing it again!”

  That wasn’t meant to happen. I should have known it would but it wasn’t meant to.

  So we had to sing it again, only this time everybody joined in. “So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, gooodbyeeeeeeeeeeee.”

  As we neared the end for a second time I could see Daisy and Dylan both getting ready to leap up and ask for another encore. I couldn’t bear it. I had to freestyle now or I’d burst. I stepped forward and garbled, “All you need is a really good moisturizer and I’ve got some in my bag,” or something stupid like that. Then I darted across to the curtain thinking I wouldn’t even bother with my trainers. I’d just freestyle in my pumps.

  But it wasn’t there. My bag with everything in it wasn’t there! I couldn’t breathe. “I left a bag … a Monsoon one…”

  Mandy, who was near by, smiled. “Oh, sorry, duck. I didn’t know what it was. I moved it downstairs when I was hiding the flowers. It’s safe behind the bar…”

  What? You crazy woman! Why would you even do that?

  I took the stairs two at a time, grabbed the bag and dashed back upstairs, but by the time I’d come back the entire scene had shifted. People had splintered into groups. Gemma had been hijacked by Hannah and Katie, Holly was at the buffet with Lucy. The tune from The Sound of Music had been replaced by something by the Black Eyed Peas. Everyone was chatting and smiling and mingling.

  Eve and Nika were nearest the door. Eve thumped me on my back. “Brilliant way to end, dude. The bag thing. Nice touch.”

  “But…”

  “The song went really well. Everyone loved it,” Nika added.

  Eve flung her arms round us both. “Right, teamies. Time to par-tay.”

  That’s when I realized there was absolutely no point in trying to get my freestyle act in now. The moment had gone. So totally and so utterly GONE. “Um … back in a min,” I said. I turned and went back downstairs.

  In the car park, I up-ended the bag and watched the ball roll across the uneven tarmac and come to rest in the gully at the edge of the pitch. I sighed, knowing I’d never play on that grass again. I was surprised at how that tugged at me.

  I bounced the ball a couple of times on my knee and then automatically dropped into my routine. Five keepy-uppies followed by an Around the World. Five keepy-uppies followed by an Around the World. Again and again.

  Once I’d started I couldn’t stop. It was instinctive now, like swallowing or cringing at my teacher’s hideous taste in cardigans. At some point I became aware that I’d beaten my PB. I had got seven, then eight keepy-uppies in a row. My heart began beating faster. Eight! Wait until I told Ashley.

  I kept going. My headband started falling in front of my eyes but I ignored it. I’d do blind keepy-uppies. Even Billy Wingrove couldn’t do that, bet you. I felt my feet getting faster, my arms tilting and swaying as I fought to keep my balance. Six-seven-eight. Eight again! I laughed out loud. Go me!

  “Wow! Well done, you.”

  I stopped, startled by the unexpected interruption. I looked up to see a woman staring at me. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Sian Lewis. I’m taking over from Hannah and Katie. I was meant to come earlier, but I got stuck on that daft bypass.”

  “Oh.”

  “I can tell you’re a Parr.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I can tell you’re a Parr. Hannah said you were all as keen as mustard but I hadn’t realized how keen. Keepy-uppies on a party night? That’s dedication.”

  “If you think I’m keen you should see the rest of them,” I told her.

  She smiled. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Seriously, though? You can tell I’m a Parr?” I asked, falling into step beside her as we headed inside to the party.

  “Definitely.”

  A slow smile spread across my face. “That is so cool,” I said.

  Final Whistle

  You know what? When Sian said, “I can tell you’re a Parr”, my disappointment at not getting the chance to freestyle in front of everyone evaporated in an instant. That was my accolade right there. What more could I ask for?

  I knew something else too. As I walked back into that function room with the new coach, I realized I was going to carry on playing sport. No way was I going to let all that hard work and those hours of practice go to waste. I loved how I’d felt when I mastered the keepy-uppies. It had given me a real sense of achievement. I might not have had the chance to show them to my teamies but the main thing was I’d proved to myself that I wasn’t a complete klutz with a ball. In the end that’s all that matters, isn’t it? How you feel about yourself? I felt more self-confident and heaps fitter. I didn’t want to let that go. Smart girls exercise. Fact.

  Hey, and guess what else happened? When I went back inside everyone was signing the T-shirts. Someone grabbed me and shoved a felt pen under my nose and said, “Amy! Sign here! Sign here!” Even JJ wanted my signature.

  “Put ‘babe’ after it or I won’t know it’s you,” she said. LOL!

  Mandy even got everyone to customize one of the spare T-shirts, and she’s having it framed and put above the bar, so I get a kind of legacy after all. And in clothing. How appropriate!

  Don’t go away now. Some of us might have left the building but Megan, JJ, Petra, Tabinda, Daisy and Dylan are still in the picture. In fact, Megan is busy this second getting a new team together before next season starts. You have sooooooooooo got to stick around for that.

  Buh-bye, girlfriends. It’s been fab.

  Amy xxxxxx

  Helena Pielichaty (pronounced Pierre-li-hatty) has written numerous books for children, including Simone’s Letters, which was nominated for the Carnegie Medal, and the popular After School Club series. A long-standing Huddersfield Town supporter, there are few who could write with as much enthusiasm about girls’ football. A love of the game clearly runs in the family: her aunt was in a women’s team in the 1950s and her daughter played football from the age of ten to twenty-six. Helena lives in Nottinghamshire with her husband and has two grown-up children.

  The Girls FC series

  Do Goalkeepers Wear Tiaras?

  Can Ponies Take Penalties?

  Are all Brothers Foul?

  Is an own Goal Bad?

  Who Ate all the Pies?

  What’s Ukrainian for Football?

  So What If I Hog the Ball?

  Can’t I Just Kick It?

  We’re the Dream Team, Right?

  Has Anyone Seen our Striker?

  Do Shinpads Come in Pink?

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. All statements, activities, stunts, descriptions, information and material of any other kind
contained herein are included for entertainment purposes only and should not be relied on for accuracy or replicated as they may result in injury.

  First published 2012 by Walker Books Ltd

  87 Vauxhall Walk, London SE11 5HJ

  Text © 2012 Helena Pielichaty

  Cover illustration © 2012 Sonia Leong

  The right of Helena Pielichaty to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, taping and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data:

  a catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  ISBN 978-1-4063-5051-7 (ePub)

  www.walker.co.uk