Frankie vs. the Pirate Pillagers

by Frank Lampard

  To my mom, Pat, who encouraged me to do my homework in between kicking a ball all around the house, and is still with me every step of the way

  CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ALSO BY FRANK LAMPARD

  COPYRIGHT

  Welcome to a fantastic fantasy league — the greatest soccer competition ever held in this world or any other!

  You’ll need four on a team, so choose carefully. This is a lot more serious than a game in the park. You’ll never know who your next opponents will be, or where you’ll face them.

  So lace up your cleats, players, and good luck! The whistle’s about to blow!

  The Ref

  “Should we go in, too?” Frankie asked. “Maybe Louise got lost.”

  “Nah,” said Charlie, glancing toward the haunted house. “She’ll be out soon.”

  Frankie and Charlie were standing by the exit, waiting for their friend Louise. The sun was dropping behind the Ferris wheel, and soon the carnival would be shutting down for the year and leaving town.

  “Not scared, are you?” said Frankie.

  Charlie blushed, and all his freckles stood out. “Of course not.”

  Frankie grinned. He remembered that Charlie hadn’t wanted to go in last year, either. It was pretty scary. There were walking skeletons, dangling spiders, and wailing ghosts. He would have gone in again today with Louise, but it cost a dollar and he only had fifty cents left.

  Frankie’s dog, Max, was sniffing around the ground looking for scraps of food.

  “Here you go, boy,” Frankie said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a dog biscuit. Max opened his mouth and Frankie dropped it in, then tickled the dog under his furry white muzzle.

  The doors opened and a few screams drifted over. Then a balding man with pale skin and wide eyes stumbled out. It was their gym teacher, Mr. Donald.

  “Looks like Donaldo’s spooked,” said Frankie.

  Mr. Donald saw them and walked over, smoothing down the few hairs on his head.

  “Is that a spider on your shoulder, sir?” asked Charlie.

  Mr. Donald jumped about a foot in the air, craning his neck.

  “Only joking, sir,” said Charlie.

  Mr. Donald stared at them with a frown. “I hope to see you both at soccer practice tomorrow.”

  “Of course, sir,” said Frankie. “We wouldn’t miss practice for anything!”

  Mr. Donald walked off, still checking his shoulder.

  The doors of the haunted house creaked open again and Louise emerged. She was playing a handheld video game.

  “We thought a skeleton might have gotten you,” said Frankie.

  Louise rolled her eyes. “Sooo not scary — I almost fell asleep.”

  Frankie checked his watch and saw it was nearly a quarter to five. “We should go home — my mom wants me back by five thirty.”

  “Mine, too,” said Louise.

  They made their way past the bumper cars and the ring toss. Their friend Kobe from school was standing behind a rope, trying to knock the tin cans off their stands with baseballs.

  “Over here, Kobe!” said Charlie. “Hit me!”

  Kobe turned and launched a throw toward Charlie. Charlie dove and caught the ball in his goalie gloves.

  Max barked excitedly.

  “The best goalies are —” Charlie began.

  “— always ready!” said Frankie and Louise. They’d heard it a gazillion times.

  Charlie threw the ball back. He never took his gloves off, except when the teachers forced him to. He said he even slept wearing them. Charlie might have been small, but Frankie knew he was the best goalie in their grade at school. Probably better than anyone in the grade above, too.

  “Win any prizes, Kobe?” asked Frankie.

  His friend shook his head. “Nope. I’ve hit the cans, but they don’t fall off. Watch.”

  He crouched like a baseball pitcher and hurled a ball. It smashed right into a can that didn’t even wobble.

  “Better luck next time,” said the short woman in a woolly hat and thick coat behind the game’s counter.

  “I bet it’s fixed,” huffed Kobe.

  “Watch what you say, young man,” said the woman. “I’m as honest as they come. Straight as an arrow.”

  But Kobe was already hopping over the rope toward the cans. He grabbed one and tried to tug it from its holder. “See!” he said. “I knew it — you’re cheating!”

  “Must be the hot weather,” said the woman, folding her beefy arms. “It’s made the cans stick together.”

  “I don’t think that’s true,” said Frankie.

  “Cheater!” said Louise.

  “Cheater!” echoed Charlie. Max began to bark.

  The woman shuffled over and put her fingers to her lips. “Keep it down, will you? Here!” She snatched a large pink teddy bear down from a peg and thrust it toward Kobe. “Take this and go.”

  Kobe looked at the bear with a frown. “My sister might like it. See you at school, guys.”

  As Kobe strolled off with his prize, Frankie and his friends walked toward the exit. The cheating woman had left a sour taste in Frankie’s mouth. He hated when people didn’t play fair.

  Behind the hot dog stand, another booth caught his eye. It had a painted sign with a soccer ball whizzing through the air. How come I didn’t notice it earlier? Frankie wondered.

  “Hang on, guys,” he said, walking over.

  Max lingered for a moment, staring up at some hot dogs turning under a heat lamp.

  “Come on, Max,” said Frankie. “You’ll get your dinner later.”

  At the soccer booth, an ancient man with bushy gray hair was up on a ladder, about to take down the sign.

  “Is it too late to play?” Frankie asked.

  The old man shook his head as he climbed down the ladder. “I’m afraid …” When he saw Frankie he paused, then nodded. “I suppose one more won’t hurt. Fifty cents gets you three shots. Get it in the bucket and you win a prize.”

  He reached under the counter and pulled out a soccer ball. It must have been almost as old as he was. The ball was half flat, and the leather was cracked and peeling off.

  He set it down in front of Frankie. Max sniffed at it, then whined.

  “That bucket is tiny,” said Charlie. “It might be fixed like the other game.”

  Frankie stared at the old man. There was something odd about him, with his eyebrows like bristling caterpillars and his deep wrinkles, but he looked honest enough. Frankie fished his last fifty cents out of his pocket and put it on the counter. He took a step back and drew in a breath. With a stab of his toe, he sent the ball sailing over the top of the bucket.

  “Just missed,” said Louise.

  The old man placed the ball back at Frankie’s feet. “Two tries left.”

  Frankie looked at the bucket, fixing it in his mind. This time he chipped the ball into the air with less power. He heard his friends all suck in their breaths.

  The ball dropped toward the bucket, bounced off the rim … and onto the ground.

  “Close,” said the man running the game, “but not close enough.” He brought the ball back again.

  “Told you,” said Charlie. “I doubt the ball even fits.”

  But Frankie didn’t like to give up. He closed his eyes and told himself to relax.

  “You can do it, Frankie,” whispered Louise.

  Frankie opened his eyes, took a step, and kicked the ball. It spun as it rose through the ai
r, then looped down. It plunked right into the center of the bucket.

  “SUPERGOOAAALL!” yelled Frankie, throwing his arms in the air.

  “Great shot!” said Charlie, clapping him on the back. Max jumped up on his hind legs.

  The old man rubbed his chin, his mouth gaping. “Well, I haven’t seen a kick that good in years,” he said.

  Frankie smiled and blushed.

  “What’s the prize?” asked Charlie.

  The old man looked at his feet. “Um … I don’t have one.”

  “Huh?” said Charlie.

  “Well, no one usually wins,” he said. He looked Frankie right in the eye and held his gaze. “Tell you what, you can have the ball if you’d like.”

  “Oh, great,” grumbled Louise. “Even Max wouldn’t touch it.”

  But Frankie nodded. He wasn’t sure why, but something drew him to the battered soccer ball.

  The old man picked the ball out of the bucket and tossed it to them.

  Frankie caught it on the arch of his foot and balanced it perfectly. “Must be my lucky ball,” he said.

  “You never know,” said the old man, with a twinkle in his eye. “It just might be. Here, you’d better have this back.”

  The old man flicked the two quarters over. Before they reached Frankie, Charlie’s hand shot out and grabbed them. “Always ready,” he said.

  Frankie laughed. “Come on, let’s go.”

  “Do we have time to kick the ball around?” asked Louise, nodding to the park gates across from the carnival.

  Frankie checked his watch. Five fifteen. There’s always time for soccer, he thought. “Maybe for ten minutes.”

  They ran into the park. At first, Frankie thought it was completely empty. Then a voice called out, “Look who it is, Kev!”

  Frankie turned around and saw his brother, Kevin, with two of his friends. They were leaning against a fence, drinking cans of an energy drink.

  “Cool ball, Frankenstein,” said Kevin. He laughed at his lame joke, downed his drink, then dropped the can on the grass.

  “Let’s get out of here,” muttered Charlie.

  But Frankie’s blood was boiling. “You should put that in the trash, Kev,” he said.

  “Oh yeah?” said his brother. “You gonna tell Mom?”

  Frankie stared at him. He knew that if their mom could see what Kevin had done, she’d drag him home by his ear.

  Frankie walked toward his brother, then stooped to get the can. If Kevin wouldn’t put it in the trash, he would. But at the last moment, his brother kicked the can out of reach. “Nice try,” he chuckled. Frankie reached again, and Kevin dribbled it away, laughing. “Too slow, Frankenstein!” he said.

  “That’s enough,” said Louise.

  Kevin lifted his foot to kick the can away. “Hey!” he shouted as Max charged in. The little dog snapped up the can in his mouth and ran off. Kevin lost his balance as he swung his leg and fell on his backside. Max trotted to a trash can, stood on his hind paws, and dropped the can in.

  Frankie managed to keep a straight face, but Kevin’s friends burst out laughing.

  “Great skills!” said one of them.

  “Tackled by a dog!” said the other.

  Kevin clambered to his feet, blushing bright red. His jeans had a dark grass stain on the back. He turned angrily to Frankie. “You’d better not be late for dinner!” he said, and stormed off. His friends followed.

  “Or what?” Frankie called after him jokingly. “You gonna tell Mom?” He gave Max another treat. “We’d better make this a quick game,” he said to the others.

  “There!” said Charlie, pointing to a jungle gym shaped like an old ship. He jogged over and stood in front of it. “The ship’s the goal.”

  Frankie booted the ball high into the air. Max streaked after it. It tangled in his feet, and he tumbled over the top.

  “Pass it!” called Frankie.

  Max managed to nose the ball to Louise. She dribbled the ball in and out of the swings, then sent a curling shot toward the top corner of the goal. Charlie dove and just got his fingertips on the ball.

  “Nothing gets past me!” said Charlie.

  We’ll see about that … thought Frankie. He got the ball and passed it to Louise. She looked up, ready to shoot, then stepped over the ball and flicked it up with her heel. Frankie was ready. He brought his foot around and connected with a perfect volley. The ball screamed toward the goal. Charlie leapt sideways, gloves open, but the ball passed beneath his outstretched hands. Frankie slid onto his knees, thinking his mom would kill him when she saw the grass stains.

  “SUPERGOA …”

  The shout trailed off in Frankie’s throat.

  The ball had vanished, and so had the ship. Max growled quietly. Frankie stood up, his heart thumping. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

  Where the goal had been just a second before was a swirl of light like nothing he’d ever seen. Colors flashed and spun in a disc shape, six feet across. He looked at Louise. Her jaw had dropped open.

  Charlie picked himself up, bashing the ground with his fist. He still hadn’t seen the spinning circle of light behind him. “I was so close!” he said.

  “Um, Charlie,” said Louise. “You might want to turn around.”

  He did as she told him, then leapt backward. “Holy moly! What is that thing?”

  Frankie and Louise went to Charlie’s side. The lights shifted and shimmered like oil on water.

  “I have no idea!” said Frankie. “But it has to be because of that soccer ball. I knew there was something weird about that booth where we won it.”

  He reached toward the … the … whatever it was.

  “What are you doing?” asked Charlie.

  Frankie turned to his friend. “My ball’s in there somewhere,” he said. “I have to get it back.”

  “Are you crazy?” said Charlie.

  Frankie grinned. “It’s just like when it goes into Mrs. Pratchett’s garden.”

  Mrs. Pratchett was Frankie’s grumpy next-door neighbor. There was only one thing she hated more than slugs in her garden, and that was Frankie’s soccer ball.

  “This isn’t the same thing,” said Charlie.

  “Anyway,” said Frankie, “it’s gotta be my lucky ball. I got it past you, didn’t I?”

  Charlie mumbled something about being lucky. Frankie stepped closer. He swallowed as his hand passed through the surface of the swirling colors. “It feels warm.” He held out his other hand to his friends. “Who’s with me?”

  “I am!” said Louise right away. She gripped Frankie’s hand.

  Charlie shook his head. “I hope I don’t regret this.” He took Louise’s other hand in his gloved one.

  Max nuzzled at Frankie’s ankle.

  Frankie took another step, and his arm slipped into nothingness up to his elbow. His skin tingled all over, as if electricity was passing through his whole body. “Now or never,” he said.

  Something gripped his arm and sucked him in.

  “What … wow … WHOA!”

  Blackness swallowed Frankie. He felt his body toss from side to side. The others cried out in alarm. Louise’s fingers clutched his tightly as he turned upside down. Colors swirled all around. Frankie found himself hurtling down a rainbow-colored chute feetfirst. He’d been on plenty of roller coasters in his life, but this was something else. He lost his grip on Louise as he spun around, headfirst, on his back, on his stomach, on his side. It was like a waterslide, but without any water, and much, much quicker.

  Frankie managed to steady himself as he looped around a bend. In a flash, he saw the others shooting along behind him, limbs flailing.

  “Uh-oh!” called Louise, her eyes staring past Frankie.

  He turned and faced the way he was traveling. His heart thumped in panic. Ahead, the tunnel seemed to disappear as it turned downward. Frankie scrambled against the walls, but they were more slippery than wet grass. He couldn’t slow himself down.

  “SORRRYY!” he cried as
he plummeted over the ledge.

  The chute was bottomless, and he tumbled down, wind rushing in his hair. Then he saw something. Wooden boards, rushing toward him. This is it, he thought, bracing himself. This is the end….

  The impact never came. All was dark, until Frankie realized he had his eyes closed. He was on his back, lying on a hard surface. The world seemed to rock beneath him and something wet touched his face. When he opened his eyes, he saw Max’s furry face close to his, tongue lolling. Above him was a clear blue sky. A flag with a skull-and-crossbones design flew from a mast. A seagull screeched overhead.

  A seagull? But we’re nowhere near the ocean….

  Frankie sat up and gasped. He was sitting on the deck of some sort of old ship. There were wooden boards and poles everywhere. Huge, thick ropes trailed from the sails into big coils below. Beyond the rails, at the edges of the deck, dark blue water stretched in every direction. A salty smell filled his nostrils.

  The others were picking themselves up, too, and looking around in wonder. Frankie was glad to see no one was hurt, but they definitely looked strange. Louise was dressed in a black skirt cut off just above her knees and a purple shirt. Charlie wore red shorts, a salt-stained blue jacket, and a polka-dotted bandanna. Frankie looked down at himself and saw similar clothing: dirty blue shorts and a striped sailor’s top. He reached up to his head and pulled off a crushed-velvet hat with gold trim.

  “We’re at sea!” said Charlie. As he took a step back, there was a crunch, and he looked down. Frankie saw Louise’s video game under his foot.

  “No!” cried Louise. She crouched beside him. There was a huge crack across the screen. “It’s broken!”

  “I didn’t mean to,” said Charlie.

  Louise shook her head. “My dad will be so mad. He’s always telling me not to take it out of the house.”

  Frankie put a hand on her shoulder. “It might still work,” he said.

  Louise pressed a switch on the side of the player. Sparks shot out of the device, and she dropped it back onto the deck. “Oh!” she cried.