Skills from Brazil

by Dan Freedman

It was only now that they had finished dinner – Mike had made Jamie his speciality: toasted cheese sandwiches, brimming with hot melted cheese – that Jamie had opened up and told him about one of the problems he was trying to deal with.

  Jamie shrugged. Pratley had made him feel stupid for believing he was different, that he could make it as a professional. And despite what Mike had said, Jamie couldn’t just forget it.

  “Come on, JJ. Tell me,” said Mike, wrapping his big, bearlike arm around Jamie. Sometimes Jamie wondered if he might be the strongest granddad in the world. “What do you want from your life? Everyone wants something. What do you want?”

  Jamie shook his head defiantly. In the past he would have answered, quick as a flash: “To be a professional footballer!”

  However, now that he really thought about it and considered all the kids in the world who wanted to be professional footballers compared to the number who actually achieved it, Jamie realized how the odds were stacked against him. Statistically, no matter how much he practised, there was probably as much chance of him winning the lottery as becoming a professional footballer.

  “Trust me,” said Mike, smiling. “You’ve got something special, Jamie. I’ve known it from the very first time I ever saw you kick a football.”

  Jamie nodded. When it came to football, Mike knew what he was talking about. But Pratley’s prediction wasn’t the only problem.

  “There’s something else too,” said Jamie. “There’s a new boy coming to our school next week. He’s Brazilian and everyone’s madly excited to see what he’s like … how cool he’s going to be … how brilliant at football… But what if he’s better than me? What if they make him captain of the pupils’ team? What if he takes my place altogether?”

  Mike shook his head. “Hang on a minute, JJ. I think you’re looking at it the wrong way. How many hours have we spent talking about Brazilian football, watching those videos of their skills on the internet, wondering where they got their touch of magic from?”

  “Loads,” smiled Jamie. “More than Mum likes, anyway.”

  “And now you’ve got a Brazilian boy coming to your school? You shouldn’t be worried, Jamie, you should be excited! If I were you, I‘d be preparing a list of questions right now. If you want to be a professional, you should be asking this boy all the secrets of Brazilian football … and make sure you tell me!

  “And, by the way,” said Mike, suddenly getting quite excited, “if he is half as good as you, you two could develop a partnership and play upfront for Hawkstone one day. What did you say his name was again?”

  “Rafael da Cruz,” said Jamie.

  “Yes,” said Mike, warming further to the idea. “I like that. Johnson and da Cruz, the Brit and the Brazilian, the deadly striking duo to fire Hawkstone United to league title…”

  As Mike leaned back and conjured the image of his grandson inspiring his beloved Hawkstone United to lift the league title, Jamie shifted uneasily in his chair.

  All of Mike’s words hadn’t yet convinced him that Pratley was wrong. And his hopes of captaining the pupils’ football team were under grave threat too. He had learned that, in football, there was usually only room for one real star in any team… And Jamie knew that, just about now, flying across the sky was a player from Brazil who might have the talent to outshine him completely.

  Cruz Control

  Monday 5 May

  “How many kick-ups can you do?” the boy demanded, arrogance oozing from every pore.

  “I don’t know,” said Jamie. “Maybe fifty or sixty…”

  “Ha!” said the boy. “My record is four hundred and sixty-eight.”

  Right there and then, in the school hall, the boy started doing kick-ups and before long, the whole school was watching and cheering.

  “You’re amazing! How do you do it?” all the kids asked, wowed by the boy’s ability.

  “Ha!” smiled the boy, flicking back his long black hair while continuing his kick-ups. “I have complete mastery of the football. I can even do kick-ups with my eyes shut – watch! My name is Rafael da Cruz. I am Brazilian. This is what I do.”

  When he had finished showing off his tricks and skills, all the girls queued up to hug him. Jack even kissed him on the cheek and, while she did so, the boy just stared right at Jamie with a self-important smile.

  “We are honoured to have a Brazilian at our school!” said Mr Karenza, joining the queue to speak to the new arrival. “And I know the Year 6 kids have already decided that they would like you to be the captain in our big football match at the end of the year. Everyone has seen your skills. We all know you’re a way better player than Jamie Johnson.”

  Jamie woke up in a dark mood. He could feel his anger spitting inside him like a volcano just before it is about to erupt.

  He had hardly slept all night and, when he had, his dreams had been filled with horrible visions of this boy from Brazil suddenly arriving at Wheatlands and snatching control of the whole school.

  The thought of losing his position as the best player in the year and perhaps even his friendship with Jack too made Jamie feel sick.

  He smashed open his boiled egg and ground his teeth together as, without warning, his mind once again visualized the image of the cool Brazilian striding into school.

  “I’ll pick you up from Mike’s at around eight o’clock tonight, got another double shif—” Jamie’s mum was in the middle of saying as he slammed the front door shut behind him and stomped up the road to school.

  Jamie already knew that this anger would be with him all day. His moods were like heavy cloaks, almost impossible to shake off. The truth was, he hated this Brazilian boy before he had even met him.

  At approximately 1.10 that afternoon, a very strangely dressed boy walked into the Wheatlands school hall during lunch.

  The boy was covered from head to toe in a huge beige anorak. The hood was over his head so far that his face was barely visible and the sleeves were stretched to cover his hands.

  Without looking a single person in the eye or speaking to a soul, he sat down on a table all by himself and began to slowly eat a packed lunch.

  All the children stared at him and a couple even introduced themselves and tried to start a conversation, but the boy still refused to say a word or make eye contact.

  Fevered speculation began to mount. Was that him? Could it really be him?

  None of the kids could believe it until, sure enough, just before the end of lunch, Mr Karenza entered the hall to make a short announcement.

  “Everyone,” he smiled. “This is Rafael da Cruz. Please make him feel very welcome.”

  Pratley’s Plan

  “Right, boys,” said Mr Pratley as the last of the lunch benches were removed from the school hall. “We’re going to play football today.”

  His announcement was met with complete and utter shock.

  The boys and girls were separated for PE. This year, the girls got to go outside in the playground with the new teacher, Ms Vetterlein, who allowed them to play football every week. Jack always raved about the quality of the sessions. Not only was Ms Vetterlein an awesome striker herself and an actual member of the Hawkstone United Women’s Team, she also coached all the girls to become better players themselves. The only problem, Jack admitted, was that playing against Ms Vetterlein in the Teachers v Pupils game was going to be an absolute nightmare!

  Meanwhile, the boys had to be inside with Mr Pratley, who had never let them play football even once. Yet today, for some reason, not only were they playing – but it was Pratley’s suggestion.

  Almost everyone cheered when he made his announcement.

  The one person who did not cheer, however, was Jamie. There was something about this that he didn’t like. Something that gave him a weird feeling. Why today? Jamie asked himself. Why is he letting us play football today?

  “OK!
” said Pratley with a worryingly large smile. “Johnson, you can be one captain and … let me see … yes, da Cruz … you can be the other.”

  “OOOOOOhhhh!” was the collective response from the rest of the players, who, as one, immediately understood the gravity of what was about to happen.

  This was it … straight away! Within just a couple of hours of Rafael da Cruz joining school, he was already going to be playing football against Jamie Johnson. A match-up between the best player in the school and the new boy from Brazil. People had been talking about this moment ever since they knew Rafael would be joining the school and now it was here. Already.

  And it was perfect timing too; all of this week, the Year 6s would be secretly voting for who their captain would be in the Teachers v Pupils match. This contest would undoubtedly show everyone who was the greatest footballer in Year 6.

  For the first time, Jamie looked at the Brazilian boy properly. He took in his features: his short black curly hair, his dark, tanned skin … the contrast to Jamie’s straight red hair and pale white skin could not have been more marked.

  Glaring at his rival, Jamie felt his heart start to pump. A single bead of sweat began to trickle down his forehead. Then, as he watched Pratley pick the two teams, he felt a horror spread throughout him. The teams were wildly, outrageously unfair.

  “What?” said Kai Thomas to Jamie, as the two team line-ups were completed. “They’ve got Aaron … and Dexter … and Kane … AND the Brazilian! That’s way unfair! We’re going to get BATTERED!”

  “Let’s see what happens,” responded Jamie. Outwardly, he was trying to appear calm. That was his responsibility as a captain. Inside, he was distraught. Now he understood exactly why Pratley was letting them play football; this whole game was designed to show Jamie up and make the Brazilian look great.

  Pratley was trying to destroy Jamie’s football reputation.

  “Tackle Him!”

  Jamie wished that Jack was with him. It was stupid that they split the boys and girls up for PE. She loved football as much as anyone and she was one of the best players too. If she was on Jamie’s team now, he knew they could still win – even against the Brazilian.

  It was as that thought crossed his mind that Jamie realized the Brazilian had been incredibly quiet during all of the pre-match commotion. Indeed, Jamie had not even heard the boy talk yet.

  Jamie looked over and saw that, since Pratley had announced the playing of this match, the Brazilian boy had not moved an inch. He was still standing in exactly the same place: right in the middle of the hall, clutching on to what looked like some kind of notepad.

  “Go on, da Cruz, get back into your own half,” ordered Pratley. “We’re going to kick off now. Perhaps you might demonstrate to Johnson that there is more to the game of football than just running fast!”

  Pratley started laughing again. Jamie felt his anger rising.

  Yet the boy still remained exactly where he was. Was he in some kind of trance? Did he even understand English?

  “Well come on then!” Pratley barked at the boy. “What are you waiting for?”

  The boy frowned and shook his head.

  “Get into your position!” yelled Pratley. “Let’s see what you can do!”

  And with that, Pratley blew his whistle and tossed the ball high into the air.

  As the ball spiralled upwards, Jamie instantly felt the electricity shoot through his body. He felt the same powerful sensation when he started playing any game of football.

  “It’s called an adrenaline buzz,” Mike had told him. “You get it if you’re scared, angry or excited. It’s your brain giving your body extra power to do what it needs to do.”

  Jamie knew his brain was right. It was time for him to do what he had to do.

  “Yes, Kai!” called Jamie, immediately from the kick-off. “Go on, pass it!”

  Jamie was already marked by Aaron Cody, one of the best players on the other side, but both Kai and Jamie knew one thing: their team’s best and only tactic was to get Jamie the ball as quickly as possible.

  Kai chipped the ball to Jamie, who, feeling Aaron close behind him, turned him in one swift move … and now he was on the run.

  Pushing the ball forward, Jamie raced like lightning down the hall, the other players fading away from him as he produced a run of breathtaking pace.

  Within three seconds, Jamie’s pure velocity had taken him from one end of the hall to the other and now, out of the corner of his eye, he registered that the biggest test was about to come. There was just one player left between him and the goalkeeper.

  The Brazilian.

  Jamie knew he had to get this absolutely right. He didn’t have many tricks, so he would have to beat the Brazilian with his speed.

  Jamie brought the ball to a complete stop – to make sure the Brazilian was flat on his feet – before firing away from him again like a bullet.

  Taking extra-special care to place his shot into the corner, Jamie swept the ball home to put his side 1–0 up.

  “Beauty!” he roared, running to pick the ball out of the net before racing back to his own half, giving all of his jubilant teammates a high five on the way. He made sure to give the Brazilian and everyone else on the pitch a stare. A stare that said the other side had some of the best players … but they didn’t have Jamie.

  As Jamie ran past the Brazilian, he realized that the boy hadn’t actually tried to tackle him; he’d just let Jamie get through. Even now, he still hadn’t really moved. For some strange reason, he seemed more interested in holding on to that little notepad that he was carrying.

  The game kicked off again straight away and immediately swung back the other way. Stung into action by Jamie’s strike, Dexter and Kane Talbot, two skilful twins (one left footed, one right) combined to play a series of telepathic one twos to rip right through the heart of Jamie’s team. They even passed the ball to each other on the goal line before Dexter finished off the classic move to level the game up at 1–1.

  Yet, even as their whole team was celebrating, Jamie noticed that the Brazilian was not involved in the action in any way. Instead, he had opened his little notepad, taken a pencil from his pocket, and was writing something down. In the middle of the game!

  “Put that notepad away now!” shouted Pratley.

  Hearing Pratley’s yell, Rafael da Cruz reluctantly put the notepad back in his pocket. It was impossible not to notice that he had started to look very sad.

  Jamie was utterly confused. Rafael was so different to the Brazilian boy that everyone had been expecting.

  Perhaps, though, he was just a slow starter. Perhaps he needed to get used to his new surroundings before he felt comfortable enough to play. Or perhaps he was being sneaky, fooling the other players by pretending that he was no good, getting ready to take everyone by surprise and stun them with his talent.

  Jamie had to know the truth. He had to know how good this boy really was. There was only one way find out. Jamie had to take on Rafael again.

  As soon as he next received the ball, Jamie rampaged through the centre of the opposing team’s defence. Again, he used no skills, just his raw, unmatchable pace. Almost inevitably, it resulted in the same situation: Jamie coming one on one with Rafael.

  Let’s see how you handle this one, he thought as he kicked the ball to one side of Rafael and scampered around the other to collect it. It was a simple but great move – one of Jamie’s favourites.

  Jamie was just sprinting past Rafael when the entire hall was suddenly filled with the tumultuous sound of pure anger.

  “For GOD’S SAKE … TACKLE HIM!!!!” exploded Pratley. Stung into action by fear, Rafael turned and launched his body into Jamie’s. The contact was immediate. Both players clattered into each other, tumbling over in a tangle of flying limbs. The screeching sound of skin burning on the hall floor told everyone that this was seriou
s.

  Jamie came to a halt and immediately looked at his bare arm. It was completely covered in a friction burn, which was sending a violent pain through him.

  “What did you do that for?” Jamie snarled. “You knew I’d beaten you but you still took me down, you dirty fouler!”

  “S-s-sorry,” said Rafael, trying to get to his feet.

  “So you should be!” shouted Jamie, converting all of his frustration into one powerful push to shove Rafael back down to the ground.

  Thousands of Miles From Home

  “I can’t tell you how disappointed I am by all of this. I really am,” the head teacher, Mr Karenza, said gravely, leaning back in his chair, looking at the two offenders.

  This was the first time in months that Jamie had been sent to the head’s office and he hated being here. Mr Pratley could shout as loudly as he wanted and it never scared Jamie – if anything, he just found it funny. However, with Mr Karenza it was the complete opposite: he had only lost his temper once in all the time Jamie had been at the school, but Jamie could still remember it. He shuddered at the thought.

  “Jamie, I would never have expected this of you. I thought you would have been one of the people to have made Rafael most welcome in our school,” Mr Karenza said.

  “Can you imagine how difficult it must be to arrive in a new country thousands of miles from your home? What do you think your mother would make of this if I told her?”

  Jamie shook his head and looked at the floor.

  “And Rafael, to get into a fight on your first day … within hours of arriving! After everything your father has done to get you into this school…”

  Mr Karenza took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “And Mr Pratley tells me that you pretty much refused to play football? Why was that, Rafael? Your dad told me you love football.”

  “I d-d-d-do love football,” Rafael stammered.