“Sorry,” he said, not looking sorry at all. “It was an accident, honest.”
“Well just be more careful in future!” Mr Pownall told him crossly.
I was furious. I bet Scotty-chops was trying to knock me out or something, just so I wouldn’t be in the team. Well, it was going to take more than that to stop me.
I got the ball and dribbled it past Ryan, calling, “Come on then, get it off me!”
Mr Pownall shouted, “Kenny… Kenny… Oh, I’ll tell you later!”
Then he blew his whistle and we started on the exercises.
I know that I shouldn’t say this, but they were really quite easy. I mean, it was the same stuff we do every week, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone. But the way some of the boys played, you’d think they’d never even seen a football in their lives before. I mean, they were just so BAD! Even Danny McCloud seemed to be put off by all the noise the spectators were making, and that’s just stupid. Have you ever seen a professional footballer go to pieces in front of a big crowd? Of course not, they love all the attention – and so do I! I played the best I’d ever played in my life. It really helped when I looked across and Frankie, Lyndz and Rosie were going wild with their cheering. Even Fliss looked as though she was letting her hair down – a tiny bit!
When it came to the actual match I was on fire. I mean, I was just so hot I couldn’t put a foot wrong. Danny, Ryan and I were on the same team and all our practising together really paid off. We could sort of tell where the other person was going to pass the ball; it was like telepathy or something. We played a blinder, and by half-time (which in five-a-side matches is after six minutes) we were three-nil up and we’d each scored a goal.
“We’re all bound to get in the team at this rate,” Danny said as we were changing ends. “And if we play like this in the competition, I can’t see anyone beating us, can you?”
Scotty and I had to admit that we did appear pretty invincible.
The second half got even better. Neil Hughes in the opposite goal let his brain go walkabout again and kept handling the ball outside his area. We were awarded four penalties. We had this arrangement before the match that we’d take it in turns to shoot penalties. The other boy on our team, David Harper, said he wasn’t bothered. I think he was a bit intimidated by us actually. Anyway, I ended up taking two of our penalties. What do you mean, did I score? Of course I did! Scotty-chops missed his though, which was a shame. No, I genuinely felt sorry for him about that.
By the end of the match, the score was 7–2 to our team. We’d played out of our socks, and we were as high as kites when Mr Pownall called us all over to announce the team. The gym had been going wild, but as soon as Mr Pownall said that he was ready to make his announcement it went deadly quiet.
“In goal, we’ll have Alex Brown…”
We commiserated with Neil Hughes and told him “better luck next time”.
My heart began to thump and I prepared myself for hearing my name next.
“The rest of the team will be Ryan Scott, Danny McCloud, Bobby Brook and…”
My name had to be next, it just had to be. I could hear Frankie and the others chanting “Kenny, Kenny, Kenny!”
“… Charlie Acres. And the reserves will be…”
I couldn’t believe it. I was better than all the others on the pitch and he hadn’t even picked me to be in the team. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to be a reserve.
“… Dean Sullivan and Michael Blackwell.”
I wasn’t even down as a reserve! What had I done wrong?
It was Ryan Scott who piped up first.
“But what about McKenzie, sir?”
“Yeah, she’s the best player here,” agreed Danny. “After me and Ryan of course!”
Frankie, Fliss, Lyndz and Rosie came flying over. “Why haven’t you picked Kenny?” they demanded. “She played a blinder.”
Mr Pownall held up his hands to silence everybody.
“I tried to tell Kenny before the trials, but she didn’t listen to me,” he explained.
I looked at him blankly.
“I couldn’t pick you because girls aren’t allowed to play in a boys’ team. No mixed teams are allowed. It’s the rule. I really am sorry, Kenny.” He sounded quite upset himself. “If you can find enough girls to form your own team, then you can enter the competition. What about that?”
He was smiling at me but I had to turn away. I could feel big tears welling up in my eyes and I wasn’t going to let anyone see me cry.
“I’m really sorry, Kenny,” Danny McCloud mumbled as he walked past me.
“Kenny, I don’t believe it! You were brilliant out there!” Frankie grabbed me and gave me a big hug.
“Yeah better than the boys – by miles!” agreed Rosie.
“Well it doesn’t matter now does it,” I muttered, “because I’m a girl and it doesn’t matter how well I can play.”
I headed for the changing room, where I’d left my bag.
“Don’t be like that,” said Frankie when she caught up with me. “You heard what Mr Pownall said. All you need to do is find some other girls who can play football, and then you can enter the competition too.”
“And where am I going to find four girls who can make up the rest of my team?” I asked. “They don’t exactly grow on trees, you know.”
I put my head in my hands. I’d dreamed and dreamed of playing in that competition, and now it had been snatched away from me. I glanced up and the others were all looking at me full of concern.
“Hang on a minute!” I shrieked, suddenly coming to life. “There are four of you! We could start our very own five-a-side team!”
“Oh no!” laughed Frankie, shaking her head. “No way!”
You didn’t think I’d let them get away so easily, did you? Of course I didn’t! Once I have a plain in my head, nothing, but nothing, will make me give up on it. Especially where football is concerned. But at the same time I knew that I had to tread pretty carefully. Football had just nearly split us up after all – the last thing my friends needed was me ramming it down their throats again. So I decided to play it cool.
“Sorry guys,” I apologised. “I know that football’s not your thing. It was silly of me to even think we could form a team. Forget I even mentioned it.”
“Don’t worry, we will!” sniffed Fliss.
But at least Lyndz and Rosie looked as though they might just be giving it some thought. I don’t know what Frankie was thinking – she’s hard to figure out sometimes.
When I’d changed, we all sneaked out of the back of the gym so that I wouldn’t have to face Ryan Scott and the others.
“At least you’ve got us!” Frankie whispered, squeezing my arm.
Yes, but did that mean that they were prepared to drop everything to form a five-a-side team? Somehow I doubted it. But I was convinced that all it needed was some of my famous McKenzie persuasion, and soon they’d be begging to play football in the competition with me. What I needed was a plan!
I mulled it over all evening, and by the next morning I knew exactly what I had to do. But first I had to face the boys.
“Come on Kenny, we’re waiting for you!” shouted Danny McCloud as soon as I got into the playground.
“Nah, I think I’ll give it a miss, thanks,” I called back.
He just shrugged his shoulders.
“I never thought I’d see you passing up the chance to play football,” Frankie shouted as she ran towards me.
“There’s not much point now, is there?” I muttered sadly.
“That’s a silly attitude,” she warned me firmly. “You can’t give up on something just like that.”
“Well, unless I miraculously turn into a boy overnight, I don’t see how I’m going to play in the competition, do you?”
“You could disguise yourself,” she suggested.
“Get real, Frankie!” I laughed. “You’ve been watching too many films.”
The others soon joined us. But F
liss might as well have been on Mars for all the attention she gave us. She was too busy watching Ryan Scott playing football. Does that girl need a brain transplant or what? But it did present me with an ideal opportunity to put Phase One of my plan into action.
“He’s pretty good, isn’t he?” I asked, going to stand with her. “He’s actually quite nice too, once he’s playing football. There’s a whole different side to him that you’ve never seen.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, but you only ever see it when you’re playing football with him,” I told her seriously.
“I bet he’s still annoying though, isn’t he?” asked Rosie, who had joined us.
“Only some of the time!” I laughed. “On the football pitch he actually listened to what I had to say for once. I had this amazing feeling of power over the boys when they realised that I had more idea about tactics than they did.”
My plan certainly seemed to be working, because Fliss and Rosie were still chatting together about boys and football when the bell went.
I didn’t have to wait too long before I could put Phase Two into operation: our next netball practice on Friday, to be precise. We all got there early, and I just happened to get my hands on a ball before Miss Burnie, the teacher, appeared. I started kicking it about and soon the others joined in. Every time Lyndz took a shot I yelled, “Great shot Lyndz!” or “I wish I could do that!”
Lyndz looked chuffed to bits, and you could tell that she was getting more confident too.
“Girls! If you want to play football I suggest that you find Mr Pownall. This is a netball court!” Trust Miss Burnie to spoil our fun.
“You really are good at football!” I told Lyndz as we were waiting for the netball practice to start. “You should play more, you know. You’d run rings round the boys.”
“I don’t think so!” Lyndz said, blushing. “My brothers all laugh at me when I try to play with them.”
“Well, they’re just jealous,” I told her confidently. “Just think if you did play, it would be like proving to your brothers that they’re wrong about you. I bet they’d take you more seriously too.”
Well, that really got Lyndz thinking, you could tell. Now all I had to do was work on Frankie.
Actually, as it turned out, Frankie was smarter than I’d figured. She came up to me one lunchtime the following week, after I’d been telling Fliss how much Ryan Scott admired sporty girls.
“He says that they’re much more fun,” I told her. “Look how well I got on with him after the five-a-side practices.”
I could see that she was getting pretty jealous.
“If you turned up at one of those practices, you’d knock his socks off for sure!” I reassured her. “Ow!”
Frankie very rudely interrupted me by nipping my arm and dragging me off to a corner of the playground.
“I know what you’re doing,” she hissed, “and I’m not sure that it’s going to work.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, all innocent.
“You’re trying to force us all to form a five-a-side team for the competition, aren’t you?” she asked menacingly.
“Might be.”
“Look Kenny, we know how much the competition means to you, and I for one would love to help out,” she went on. “But we’re not going to make fools of ourselves for you or for anybody.”
“You won’t!” I promised. “All we need is some practice.”
“Even Fliss?” asked Frankie. “She’s not exactly Alan Shearer, is she? Neither is Rosie, come to that.”
“Well one of them can go in goal,” I reasoned. “And between you, me and Lyndz we should be able to pull it off. Thanks, Frankie – you’re the greatest!”
“Talk about twisting my arm!” laughed Frankie. “OK then, I’ll help, but haven’t you forgotten something? We’ve still got to persuade the others what a brilliant idea this is, remember? And another thing McKenzie,” she added in her best gangster’s voice, “if this comes off, you owe me. Big time!”
All week I kicked a football around whenever I got the chance, and Frankie always joined in. Sure enough, after a few minutes the others joined in too, and we had a right laugh. So what if Fliss kept missing the ball, or Rosie kept tripping up? They were having a good time. Whenever any of the boys appeared, we pretended we’d just found the ball and were mucking about with it. The last thing I needed was those stupid idiots making fun of us – that would put Fliss and Rosie off for life.
“You know what we need?” I asked the others on the Wednesday. “A football-themed sleepover, that’s what!”
“Why?” asked Rosie and Fliss together. “We’ve never had one before.”
Frankie and I looked at each other.
“That’s precisely why,” Frankie burst in quickly. “We’ve never had one and it would be kind of different. Remember that great horse-themed one we had? That was fun, wasn’t it?”
Everybody started giggling about the clothes and the games, not to mention the food we’d had at our horsey sleepover.
“So is everybody agreed that a football sleepover is a good plan?” I shouted.
“Yes!”
“Right, my place, Saturday. Be there or be a banana!” I laughed, throwing a load of invitations at everyone. It had taken me ages to write them all the night before, and it had taken me even longer to bribe Molly the Monster into letting me have our bedroom without her poking her nose in every five minutes. (I did threaten to leave my rat Merlin in her bed one night, but she said that I was disgusting and that she’d tell Mum. So in the end I had to promise to buy her a bag of crisps every day for a week. What a creep!)
Anyway, I’ve got a spare copy of the invitation here. What do you think? Cool eh?
* * *
Kenny is having a
FOOTBALL SLEEPOVER
On Saturday 25th September
Wear togs to play football in
Bring ‘football-type’ food
for the Midnight Feast!
Party on, dudes!
* * *
So at least everybody knew what to expect at the sleepover – it wasn’t as though I’d conned them or anything. It’s just that I hadn’t exactly told them that they would be forming our five-a-side team either. But hey, it was my job to show them how great it would be, and Frankie had promised that she would help.
It all started out well enough. Saturday was a really warm sunny day, so I’d set up loads of stuff in the garden. Everybody knows that I’m a bit wild and I like to let off as much steam as possible. In fact I was charging about like a mad monkey when everyone appeared.
“So what exactly has that got to do with football?” asked Frankie as soon as she saw me. “I know that some players act like animals, but that’s ridiculous!”
“Ha ha ha!” I laughed. “Hey you all look wicked. Let’s have a look at you!”
Fliss paraded about in the new tiny white shorts and stripy top she’d got for her birthday. It’s true that I’d never seen a footballer wearing make-up and plaits before, but at least Fliss had entered into the spirit of things.
“I’ve brought my tracksuit in case it gets cold,” she explained. “I really wanted to show you my new skirt though. I mean, this isn’t really me, is it?”
“You look fab!” I gushed. “If only Ryan Scott could see you now!”
Frankie shot me a warning glance. We’d agreed that we wouldn’t mention the actual competition until everyone was chilling out – probably when we were having our midnight feast.
“If you tell them too early everyone will freak out and the sleepover will be a disaster,” she had warned me.
I thought that Frankie was wrong about that, but I didn’t say anything else to Fliss all the same. Instead I turned my attention to the others. When I saw Rosie I didn’t really know what to think.
“What are you like!” I gasped when I saw her. She was wearing this mega-long pair of baggy shorts and a really thick long shirt.
“It’s what my granda
d used to play football in,” she explained. “Mum found it in a box in the attic. What do you think?” She pretended to do a catwalk turn.
“I bet Ryan Scott wouldn’t fancy you if he saw you in that!” sniffed Fliss.
“I wouldn’t want him to,” Rosie snapped right back. “I only came in this as a joke. I wish I hadn’t bothered.”
“Don’t be daft, you look great!” Frankie laughed. “Too great!” She grabbed Rosie and wrestled her to the floor. The rest of us piled on top.
“We’ve got to make those clothes a bit dirtier so you all look like proper footballers,” I squealed, making sure that Rosie and Fliss got the dirtiest of all of us.
“I thought you were going to be playing football!” Dad suddenly appeared on the patio. “That looks more like a rugby scrum to me!”
We all scrambled up from the ground.
“We’re just getting into the swing of things,” I explained. He looks a bit straight, my dad, but he’s kind of cool really.
“So I see,” he smiled. “Well it’s good to see the rest of you girls. And it’s really good of you to help Kenny get over her disappointment with that five-a-side thing like this. I’m sure you’ll be splendid when you form your…”
“Thanks Dad,” I butted in quickly. “I think Mum’s calling for you.”
“I didn’t hear… oh, right, I can take a hint!” Dad disappeared inside again.
“What did your dad mean, Kenny?” Lyndz was looking very suspicious. “How are we helping you and what are we going to form?”
The others were all looking at me expectantly.
“Well, erm, you’re cheering me up with this sleepover, aren’t you? And we’re, erm, going to, erm, form, erm…”
“Cheerleaders!” Frankie exploded. “We’re going to form a group of cheerleaders!”
“Great!” squealed Fliss.
“Fantastic!” screamed Rosie. “I’ve always wanted to be a cheerleader!”
I shot Frankie a nasty look and mouthed, “What have you done?”
She shrugged.
“Hey what about playing football?” I called, running to fetch a ball. “That’s what we’re here for. We won’t bother about teams yet. For the moment it’s every girl for herself!”
Sleepover Club Goes For Goal! Page 3
