‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell us how awful that man was.’ Mum’s knuckles were turning white around the handles of her handbag as we walked through the hotel lobby to the dining room where the trophy ceremony was going to be held. If Jez didn’t keep out of her way, I could see her smacking him with it.
‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you knew I’d been left on the bench,’ I protested. ‘How long were you keeping that a secret?’
‘How long were you?’ Dad replied drily.
I hated it when he had a good point.
‘We called yesterday to ask what position you’d be playing,’ Mum said. ‘Because you’d told us the team wouldn’t be told in advance, we exercised our parental rights to obtain additional information.’
‘I wanted to make sure I had a rhyme,’ Dad added helpfully.
‘Well, you managed that, at least. And hey, at least one of your sons is a future star athlete.’ Jude had slain the opposition at his demonstration match. They didn’t give trophies out to five-year-olds, but he was wearing his I PARTICIPATED rosette with as much pride as he would a gold medal.
‘They’re campaigning to make football the first powerchair sport in the Paralympics,’ Dad said proudly. ‘I reckon I’ve got a contender for England captain here.’
Jude tipped his head back to beam up at us. ‘I precipitated!’
I grinned in return. ‘Yeah, I heard you were the best precipitator in the place.’
‘But,’ Dad said, reaching out to ruffle Jude’s hair, ‘I don’t know what you think there is to be ashamed about, being a sub. You’re a vital part of the team on that bench.’
‘What sort of vital part?’ I asked. ‘The third wheel? I only got to play because Laurie was hurt.’
‘And you showed more class in those final minutes than anyone on the pitch. The game would fall apart without reserves, Dylan. A good coach picks his subs as carefully as he picks his first team. You bring a sub on when your opposition are starting to get tired legs, and they’ll be uncatchable. Or if one of the players is having a bad day – bring on a reserve who isn’t. They can completely change a game. You should know that, after today.’
When I thought about it, what Dad was saying was a nicer version of the dressing-down Jez had given me the other day. The one I thought I’d learned my lesson from. It seemed like I might need to hear it a few more times. ‘It’s not about how good the player is; it’s about how good they make the team.’
‘That’s my boy.’ Dad winked. Then he shrugged and went on, ‘But you should have started in a forward spot. The man must be coaching blindfold to have missed that.’
Jez hadn’t missed anything. That was exactly why he didn’t want me to play. But I’d told Mum and Dad enough about how rubbish Jez was as a coach already. The match was over, and us winning had given Jez all the payback he deserved.
Walking next to Jude reminded me to keep an eye out for any sign of the Ratbusters, but it looked like they’d been told to keep out of sight during the celebration. There was a different vehicle pulled up by the doors, though. I nudged Kayla.
‘If we duck out of this party, maybe we can stow away in there?’
The Deathsplash tour bus was standing with its storage section open, a collection of black and silver boxes and interesting-looking wires just inside.
Kayla sighed. ‘I’ve made my peace with missing the concert. Deathsplash and I may be star-crossed music lovers when it comes to me seeing them perform live, but we’ll always have breakfast, hot dogs and hamsters.’
I slung an arm round her shoulders. ‘And at least you won’t have to lie to your dad about where you are tonight. Trust me, that never works out.’
‘Yes – heaven forbid I keep secrets. I might turn out like you.’ Kayla smiled.
‘Like I said, more people have been keeping secrets from me. Like Leo – did you know this big show he’s been rehearsing for was tonight? Because he only mentioned it to me when I tried to call just now.’
Kayla shook her head. ‘I didn’t know anything about it.’
‘Big show?’ Dad asked, clearing his throat. ‘Didn’t mention what it was, did he?’
‘No.’ I sighed, like that mattered. ‘It could be anything from Swan Lake to Escalators: A Steps Tribute Performance for all I know. That isn’t the point. The point is, if I’d known, maybe we could have skipped the party and gone back home tonight. At least I’d have got to see him for a couple of days.’ I let a little bit of a whine creep into my voice. It had been a stressful few days; surely I deserved something going right for a change.
‘We’re here for the weekend,’ Dad said firmly. ‘I’ve booked us tickets for a falconry display tomorrow.’
Oh, no. ‘Last time we went to one of those, you beat all the little kids to being chosen to participate, and then you lost the bird.’ I whimpered, physically pained by the memory of all those crying children when Dad joked it had probably been eaten by a cat. ‘It’s going to be a nightmare.’
‘Tough,’ Dad said. ‘It’s going to be a nightmare we have as a family.’
He really knew how to make it sound appealing.
Before I could come up with a new protest, or consult Kayla for my legal rights in making an official appeal against cruel and unjust treatment, I spotted Freddie hovering just outside the doors of the dining room.
Like me and Kayla, he’d decided to dress up this evening. Except, where my suit was left over from my uncle’s wedding last year, and I’d grown at least three inches since then – which was exactly how much ankle the trousers exposed – Freddie’s looked like it had been hand sewn by a fancy tailor first thing that morning. My jacket, in opposition to my trousers, was three sizes too big, as Mum still insisted on buying me things to ‘grow into’, despite the fact I’d just turned fifteen, and my shoulders probably weren’t going to pop out to the size of a pro-bodybuilder’s overnight.
Freddie looked like he’d just fallen out of the pages of one of those bridal magazines I’ve definitely never picked up and flicked through in the dentist’s office.
He looked amazing. And I still only wanted him to be my friend.
Kayla skipped forward and caught one of Freddie’s hands. She looked well matched with him, wearing a short, dark navy dress with a skirt that faded out into pale pink at the hem. It glittered with tiny sequin stars – the dress she should have been wearing for the concert later. ‘What are you lurking out here for? Shouldn’t you be helping your mum with any last-minute decorating?’
‘Oh, she’s finished it.’ Freddie grinned. ‘It’s a load of balls.’
Mum’s eyebrows curved into two exclamation marks. ‘I’m not sure that’s appropriate language in front of the children.’
I thought she might have meant Jude, but she turned and gestured directly at me instead.
‘No, no. I mean, literally.’ Freddie held open the doors for us, waving an arm at the décor. ‘Take a look.’
It was a load of balls.
FORTY-TWO
No one could say Freddie’s mum didn’t know how to work a theme. Footballs of every shape and size filled the room – strung above the tables like bunting, tied together into a makeshift chandelier – there were even miniature footballs on sticks poking out between floral arrangements on the table. It looked like a weirdly formal version of one of the rooms at Jude’s soft-play centre.
We must have been among the last to arrive. The tables were filling up fast with other team members and their families. Even some of the pros had turned up, along with a photographer from the local paper who was lurking around a table at one end of the room, where a huge trophy took pride of place.
‘It’s not real,’ Freddie said, catching me looking. ‘Mum bought a plastic Tudor goblet from a party shop in the Arndale Centre and “distressed it”. She nearly knocked Dad out with the paint fumes.’
My dad had dashed up to take a selfie with it anyway. He looked around the room with the same awed expression Jude had worn la
st Christmas, when he assumed every present under the tree was meant for him. If Mum didn’t put her foot down fast, I could tell he’d have plans for redecorating when we got home.
Freddie’s mum popped up next to Dad, beaming proudly, and took his camera to take a better photo. Then they got one together, thumbs up next to the plastic cup.
I nudged Freddie. ‘It’s like one of those films where the supervillains team up. They’re going to be unstoppable now.’
Freddie groaned. ‘I’m pretty sure Mum’s been looking up the cost of hiring her own choir already.’
‘Speaking of which,’ Kayla cut in, ‘it looks like Flauntyboy arrived early to make sure no one was having too much fun.’
Leroy and his mum were sitting together on the opposite side of the room. It didn’t look like they’d brought any musical accompaniment with them this time.
I frowned at Kayla. ‘Isn’t it about time you stopped pretending you don’t know his name? He was great today, and he’s been helping you all week. Just because you’ve met the only person on earth who takes rules more seriously than you do.’
‘Only the stupid ones!’ Kayla retorted, before sighing huffily. ‘Fine. I was just going to suggest we join Leroy’s table before someone else does, anyway.’
‘Oh . . .’ I raised my eyebrows. ‘Good idea.’
Freddie went to sit with his family, while mine packed round the table with Leroy and Mrs Hughes, Dad making both of them blush the exact same colour by clapping Leroy on the back and calling him a ‘top skipper’.
We’d just taken our seats when the lights dimmed, and Jez and Lacey made their entrance.
Jez had changed out of his kit from earlier, and he had a plaster over the back of his head, but he was still wearing the same pained expression: teeth gritted tightly together like he’d just sat on a beehive and was trying not to let anyone know. He managed to arrange his mouth into an upward curve that would almost have resembled a smile had it not seemed so much like he was ready to bite anyone who got too close.
So Lacey was brave to be walking at his side. I noticed they weren’t arm in arm, but, judging from the gasps round the room, no one else was paying attention to anything except her dress. Dresses might not be my thing, but even I had to admit this one was pretty spectacular. She looked like she’d stepped out of the final scene of a Disney film, one of the ones where the princess does go to the ball. Her golden skirt was as wide as she was tall and made of netting with what looked like fairy lights woven into it: she literally glowed. Even in an expensive suit, Jez looked drab in comparison.
‘That’s it – I’m googling tailor electricians immediately,’ Kayla whispered. ‘That’s unbelievable.’
‘Yes,’ Leroy agreed, much too loudly. ‘A high-visibility vest would be cheaper and much more efficient. I hope she’s not planning to plug it into the mains.’
Kayla rolled her eyes at me, obviously being very restrained about not thumping her head against the table. She snapped a quick photo of Lacey’s dress and pulled out her phone – I could already guess she was about to text her dad with the first item on her Christmas list for this year.
As Jez and Lacey took up their places on either side of the trophy table, I could see Jez look down and briefly scan the menu. I’d checked it earlier, and I bit my lip not to smile now as he read that we were about to be served our choice of Jez Jalfrezi or Dutton Mutton Dhansak. That’s the problem with bad curries: they repeat on you for ages.
Narrowing his eyes, he reached to snap up a glass from the table, picking up a spoon to tap it with – as if all the attention in the room wasn’t already on him. By now, most of the parents must have started to hear rumours about his coaching style.
‘Right,’ Jez started, clearly settling in for a lengthy speech.
I didn’t mind – our team had completely showed him up today, and he was finally going to have to admit it. He could take all the time in the world.
‘Nice to see all these faces one last time,’ Jez said, clearly making it sound like it was seeing us for the last time that was the good bit. ‘Today was a roller coaster of a match. We had ups, we had downs, and half you lads looked like you were going to wet yourselves with nerves before the ride started. But I think you knew I was looking out for you all along. See, the thing with football is, it’s not always about being good – it’s about thinking you’re good.’
Except, we had been good – really good.
Kayla kicked me under the table, pulling a confused face. I shook my head, waiting to see where this was going.
‘And that’s my job, as coach. To let you lot think you’re good. So if we went a bit easy on you today, it’s worth it to see the boost it gave you. Of course, you can’t always expect people to let you win . . .’
A murmur went up from where Chidi’s family were sitting. And Freddie’s.
Let us win?
Jez went on as if he couldn’t hear. ‘But you can always remember this one time you did.’ He scooped up the trophy on the table and held it high. ‘So I’m accepting this one for all of you. We deserve it.’
Across the room, Laurie Deering stood up, leaning heavily on a brand-new crutch. ‘You don’t deserve anything.’
‘Except a clip round the ear,’ Mrs Hughes said fiercely.
‘Leroy earned that cup.’ Freddie put his hands on the table and stood up too.
Leroy joined them. ‘We all did!’
‘Fluffy!’ yelled Jude, waving his hands in the air.
‘I know you like to be included, but that’s a bit of a tangent,’ I said to him, while Dad and Mrs Alton pushed back their seats and started marching up to the top table.
The families of the rest of the team were crowding in behind them. I could hear snatches of complaints like fouled a child and how can a coach play against his own team and just in it for himself.
But Jude was still waving and yelping, ‘No, it’s Fluffy! I found him! He’s there – He’s there!’
I looked up to where he was gesturing. Swaying above Jez Dutton’s head, as he tried to keep it out of the grip of a dozen angry football families, there was a small hamster peering out of a large gold trophy.
‘Wait—’ I started, diving under the table to try and get through the crowd.
Kayla moved at the same time as me, climbing over the rows of chairs. ‘Stop! Don’t let him drop the—’
But we were too late.
Neither of us reached Jez in time to stop him tilting the trophy a little too far . . . pouring its orange, fuzzy contents straight on to his own head.
FORTY-THREE
‘A RAT! A RAT! GET IT OFF ME!’ Jez was screaming.
For some reason, he’d clambered on to a chair, even though Fluffy was already on him, trying to pick his way through spikes of gelled hair.
‘He’s not a rat – he’s a HAMSTER!’ I could hear Jude yelling from the back of the room.
‘Get Fluffy!’ Kayla yelled at me, climbing on to one of the tables as I emerged out from under a black and white tablecloth.
A waiter tried to get in between me and Jez’s table, but I skirted round him. ‘We have to save that hamster!’
Meanwhile, Jez was doing his best to send Fluffy flying, reeling round on the chair with his arms whirling. I kept one eye on Kayla as we coordinated our rescue attempt. I flung my arms round Jez’s waist, keeping his flailing limbs pinned to his sides while Kayla tried to climb up beside him.
Rearing back, Jez’s shadow was caught by the light of the football chandelier, projecting the massive black silhouette of a monstrous hamster on to the opposite wall. Jez yelped in fear and swept a hand towards his own scalp, as if he were swatting a giant fly.
‘Fluffy, no!’
My yell got lost in a chorus of screams as all the lights in the room suddenly went out.
I thought I felt something small and furry skitter across my shoulders and skim down my shirt to the floor.
The room was in chaos. All around me, I could hear the so
und of glasses tipping, plates sliding to the floor, and tables creaking as people tripped over carefully placed footballs and fell into each other. Everyone was scrabbling around in the pitch-black – until a ghostly, glowing figure swept across to take my hand.
‘This way – I think I saw him!’ Lacey Laine exclaimed.
With Kayla, Leroy and Freddie following in the trail of her light-up skirt, we ran for the door.
The lights flickered and came back on, dimmer than they were before.
‘What was that?’ Mrs Hughes was saying anxiously. ‘Does anyone smell smoke?’
Mum was standing in the middle of the room, one hand resting soothingly on Jude’s head, the other caught in Dad’s collar, keeping him from knocking Jez off his chair. She looked up in wonder. ‘Mary the maid!’
‘It doesn’t matter – there he goes!’ Kayla pointed to the doors that led back to the lobby as Fluffy skittered through.
From just outside, I could hear Alfie the porter screaming, ‘Rat! The rat came back!’
‘How many bright orange rats have these people seen?’ I asked, as I bolted towards the doors, with Kayla, Lacey, Freddie and Leroy close behind.
‘Where did he go? The hamst—Rat. Where did the rat go?’ Kayla asked Alfie, while we spread out to cover as much ground as possible.
Ms Toshkhani was on the phone behind the desk, probably summoning the Ratbusters to get down there as fast as possible.
Alfie pointed towards the car-park doors.
I gasped. ‘No, no – he can’t have gone out there.’ The Deathsplash tour bus was revving its engines as I spoke. ‘He’ll be flattened! I’m not bringing my little brother back a hamster he can use as a coaster.’
‘We have to go and see.’ Kayla hooked her arm in mine and dragged me to the door.
The Deathsplash groupies had finally all abandoned the hotel – they were probably already at Old Trafford, getting ready to watch the concert. One of their roadies strolled past us as we scanned the tarmac.
‘Kayla?’ Leroy said, coming outside to join us.
‘If you’re about to tell me it’s against the rules to leave the venue during an event, I’ll scream,’ she snapped.
Boy Meets Ghoul Page 18
