The Mighty Dynamo

by Kieran Crowley

  Noah decided to give it one last try. ‘Sir, if you could just look at it for one minute you’ll see that I didn’t start the fi—’

  ‘I can ban you for as long as I want, Mr Murphy. The school board will back me and it’s not like you have the resources to challenge any decision. Do you want to play for this school again before your eighteenth birthday? Because if you don’t all you have to do is continue talking.’

  He turned his attention to Stevie.

  ‘One week, Mr Treacy, one week and you’ll get your device back. When the period of confiscation is up, I will examine the footage and if your account proves to be correct then the ban will be lifted.’

  ‘But the closing date for entries for the World Cup qualifiers is in three days,’ Noah said. ‘If I’m still banned then the coach won’t be able to put me in the squad and they don’t allow changes unless it’s a medical emergency. Next week will be too late. If you just look at the video now—’

  ‘Are you really still talking, Mr Murphy? After what I just said?’

  Noah shook his head. There was no doubting that was the end of the matter for now. He knew that saying anything else would be a complete waste of time. His principal wasn’t going to change his mind. If he was going to get out of this mess, he had to find another way.

  ‘Right, you two, get back to your classes and learn something,’ their principal said.

  After they left, Mr Hegarty picked up his mobile phone and dialled a number he chose after searching through his contacts. It took a few rings before the call was answered.

  ‘Hello, it’s me,’ Hegarty said. ‘It’s done. He’s off the team.’

  Out in the corridor, Stevie was worried about his friend. He’d never seen anyone who was this pale yet still alive. There were corpses and ghosts with healthier complexions than the almost-translucent Noah. He wanted to say something, to tell him that it’d be all right, but Noah would know that he was just being sympathetic and he hated sympathy. Stevie was still searching for the right words when Noah spoke.

  ‘He’s not going to get away with that. I’m playing in that tournament. I’ll do whatever it takes.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Whatever. It. Takes,’ Noah said.

  ‘OK, but that’s not actually clarifying anything. All you’re doing is repeating some words.’

  Noah smiled. It wasn’t his natural smile and, to someone who knew him like Stevie did, it looked a little deranged. ‘I’ve got an idea,’ he said.

  ‘An idea? What kind of idea?’ Stevie asked, a little nervously.

  ‘A plan to get me back on the team.’

  ‘A plan? Really?’ Stevie said. ‘You do know I’m the one who comes up with the plans. That’s the way it works with us. You’re the action man; I’m the thinker. This messes up our whole relationship dynamic.’

  ‘Relationship dynamic? What are you on about, Stevie?’

  ‘Nothing. Forget it. So what’s this plan you’ve come up with in less than thirty seconds? I’m sure it’s really well thought out.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Noah said. ‘It’s a good one.’

  It wasn’t a good one.

  Name: Steven Treacy

  Nickname: Little Stevie; IQ; Titch; Midge; Hobbit

  Age: 12

  Position: I don’t play organized football. I’d love to, but I’m not good enough.

  Likes: Sports science and match analysis. Computers. Reading. Reading. Reading.

  Dislikes: There’s not much I don’t like. To each their own.

  What you like about football: It’s only the greatest game ever! I love everything – the crowds, the excitement, the goals. I love the tactics: you have a team playing 4-3-3 and a central defender moves up to midfield and you’re attacking with 3-4-3. I love all the skills and tricks, especially the ones the old Brazilian player Ronaldinho used to do. He was ace. I’ve never told anyone, but I practise them myself every night. Haven’t mastered any of them yet, though.

  Favourite player: I like Neymar Júnior. Alexis Sanchez is excellent too. And what about Carli Lloyd? It doesn’t get much better than a hat-trick in a World Cup final! I like managers too, like Jürgen Klopp and Pep Guardiola.

  Favourite goal: That goal when Sergio Agüero won the title for Manchester City years ago. It wasn’t the best goal ever, but it was the most exciting one I’ve seen. I was jumping up and down and I don’t even follow City.

  Messi or Ronaldo: They’re both great.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘Football is not about justice. It’s a drama – and criminally wrong decisions against you are part and parcel of that’

  Pete Davies

  ‘Don’t do it,’ Stevie said.

  It was night-time, a clear and dry night for once, and the sky was sprinkled with hundreds of stars. Noah knew that Stevie was only trying to stop him from doing something he considered to be very, very stupid indeed, but it was easy for Stevie to warn him off. His life was simpler.

  He doesn’t have to worry about the things I have to, Noah thought.

  Noah had spent the last few hours trying to prepare himself. Deep down he knew what he was planning might be filed under the word idiotic and if his sister knew what he was up to then she’d have been furious with him. That’s why he hadn’t bothered telling her.

  It had been almost twelve hours since the meeting with Principal Hegarty, but instead of calming down he had found himself getting angrier and angrier. Even if he had started that fight on the pitch, like the principal claimed, the ban would have been harsh, but when he was the innocent one it made things far worse. Still, he had wavered slightly before he left the house, wondering if what he was about to do was worth the risk. He’d read what he’d written in his mother’s notebook again:

  I will not fail because I didn’t try.

  What he was going to do this evening wasn’t exactly what he meant when he’d written those words, but he was still going to do whatever it took.

  ‘Noah, please don’t do this,’ Stevie said for at least the ninth time. ‘You’re not behaving normally. This isn’t the kind of thing someone like you undertakes.’

  ‘Stop going on about it, Stevie,’ Noah said. He was dressed from head to toe in black and held a black and yellow beanie hat in his hand.

  They passed by the pubs on Tarbuckle Lane, or Hangover Street as it was known locally. A couple of middle-aged men stood outside dragging furiously on their cigarettes.

  Noah was growing more and more exasperated with his friend’s attitude. He wished he’d never told Stevie about the plan – mentioning it had been a big mistake – but he needed to borrow Stevie’s phone if it was going to work and he hadn’t been able to come up with a fake reason as to why he needed it quickly enough. That was the trouble with doing things in a bit of a temper – you didn’t always plan properly.

  ‘You’re not thinking it through,’ Stevie whined.

  He was having to move fast to keep up with Noah and it was taking its toll on him. Unlike his friend, Stevie was far from fit and his asthma always seemed to hold him back.

  ‘I don’t have to think about it. I’m not like you, Stevie. I can’t sit around analysing things from every angle until morning comes. I have to follow my gut.’

  ‘Nobody makes plans with their gut.’

  ‘Course they do,’ Noah said.

  ‘Only people who make huge mistakes.’

  They passed by Dee’s Diner, the town’s worst fast-food place and a byword for food poisoning. According to one of the local wits, you got a free gift with every burger – a trip to the hospital.

  ‘Listen,’ Stevie said. ‘If you get caught, then the football scout won’t recruit you. There’s plenty of talented guys out there to choose from, you know. You need to be better than all of them. You said yourself they won’t want someone who’s trouble. If they hear what you’ve been up to, they won’t want to touch you with a barge pole.’

  ‘What’s a barge pole?’ Noah asked.
/>
  ‘It’s a long pole that’s used to propel a type of boat down a riv– Stop distracting me. I’m not just being cautious, Noah. I’m trying – Noah? Noah? Are you listening to me? Right, I’ve had enough. We can either do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice.’

  He jogged past Noah and then turned round and placed the palm of his hands against his friend’s chest in an effort to stop him from moving any closer to the school.

  ‘What are you doing, Stevie?’

  Noah kept walking. Stevie’s feet slid across the surface of the footpath as he was pushed backwards. He hadn’t even slowed Noah down for a moment.

  ‘I’m stopping you from making a fool of yourself,’ he puffed as he glided past Hawk Willis’s house.

  ‘Just to be clear, is this the easy way or the hard way?’ Noah asked.

  Stevie moved aside as Noah continued to stride forward.

  ‘I really should consider joining the gym,’ Stevie said. ‘That was remarkably feeble.’

  He sped up again in an effort to keep pace with his friend. Noah knew that Stevie was only trying to help, but he didn’t want any help. This was something he had to do by himself.

  ‘Think of the consequences,’ Stevie said.

  ‘If I don’t do this, then the consequences will be worse.’

  ‘So you don’t get to play in the tournament. It’s very disappointing, but you’re young and there’s lots of clubs—’

  ‘Do you know most of the major clubs recruit players at the age of eight or nine these days? I might be too old already,’ Noah said. ‘I have to take this chance.’

  Stevie stopped in his tracks. ‘Too old? Noah, you’re twelve.’

  ‘Ryan Mason joined Spurs when he was seven.’

  ‘And Didier Drogba didn’t become a professional until he was twenty-one,’ Stevie said. He couldn’t understand why Noah was so determined to make it as a professional footballer all of a sudden. His friend had always talked about it as something he’d like to do, but in the last couple of months it had become an obsession.

  ‘Yeah, well, I need this.’

  Part of him wanted to explain why, to tell Stevie that he needed it to make things better, but he couldn’t. He held it all back. It was easier that way.

  ‘Just wait a moment, Noah. What happens if you get caught? At best you get expelled, at worst you get sent to a young offenders’ institution. You’ll probably end up sharing a room with a guy named The Bludgeoner. You’ll want to fit in with that crowd to avoid some terrible beatings so you’ll get one of those awful forehead tattoos. When you get released, you won’t be able to get a job with a tattoo like that so you’ll drift into a life of crime. Your family will disown you and you’ll have no friends. You’ll end up eating nothing but junk food so you’ll be obese before you know it. And you’re sure to lose your teeth in a fight so—’

  It was Noah’s turn to be stopped in his tracks. ‘What are you on about?’

  ‘I’m not really sure. I think my imagination got away from me there, but, still, my point remains the same: you’re going down a bad road, Noah.’

  Noah knew that Stevie was only trying to protect him, but boy, was it annoying.

  They’d almost reached the end of the town now. Only every second streetlight seemed to be working and just to make things gloomier a bank of clouds drifted across the sky extinguishing the stars like someone snuffing out candles. Stevie shivered and pulled his jacket closer around him as they took a left past the library and headed towards the end of a quiet street. All the businesses along the row were shut for the night. There was no sign of life. A few of the premises had metal shutters to stop people from breaking in. Graffiti had been sprayed across their ridged surfaces. Noah and Stevie reached the school’s entrance. The barred metal gate preventing their progress was more than two metres tall. A stone grey wall, just as high, ran round the perimeter of the school.

  ‘See, you won’t even be able to get in. That gate’s locked at six every evening without fail and the wall’s too high to climb. We might as well go home now and try to come up with a better plan. I’m sure there are lots of other things we can do,’ Stevie said.

  Noah didn’t appear to hear him. He ran his fingers along the wall as if searching for a secret button, then he looked up at the gate.

  ‘I think I can get over it,’ he said.

  ‘Noah, don’t do it. Mr Hegarty will find out if you’ve been in there. Someone will see the sensor light or an alarm will go off. Something will go wrong.’

  ‘No, it won’t. I’ll get in the window, head for his office, film the tablet’s video on your phone and leave straight away. Nobody’ll even know I’ve been there. I’ll be in and out in less than a minute.’

  Stevie began to shake his head. ‘Very bad plan,’ he muttered.

  ‘Then I’ll put the clip of me getting beaten up online. After that it’s just a matter of getting the video to go viral. People love watching others getting hurt, so that’ll be no problem. When everyone in town sees that I didn’t fight back and shouldn’t have been banned, then Hegarty will be forced to put me back in the squad.’

  ‘There are so many variables and uncontrollable events in that scenario I don’t know where to begin.’

  ‘If you’re saying it won’t work, you’re wrong. Now please go home, Stevie. Your mum will go mad if she finds you’re out at this time of night.’

  ‘It is rather late, but she’s at her book club and Dad’s watching his World at War programmes so I think I’ll be OK,’ he said.

  ‘Wish me luck,’ Noah said.

  He hopped on to the gate, grabbed one of the metal bars and easily hauled himself up to the top. As he swung over the other side, the hem of his jeans got caught on a small metal spike. He wriggled free, ripping the end of the jeans, then dropped to the ground on the far side of the gate, landing softly.

  Noah put on the beanie hat and pulled the ends of it down, stretching it over his face until it covered his head completely. Stevie’s eyes widened when he saw the square yellow figure with the stick arms and legs emblazoned on the hat.

  ‘You’re breaking into the school while wearing a SpongeBob SquarePants hat?’

  ‘It’s the only one I could find. I don’t normally wear hats,’ Noah said.

  ‘I’m going to upgrade this from Very Bad Plan to Worst Plan Ever.’

  Noah had cut out holes for his eyes and mouth, but they were slightly askew so that he could only use one or the other at a time. He had to choose between breathing or seeing.

  ‘Go home, Stevie. Go home before you get into trouble.’

  Noah was already scarpering up the long path that led to the school. As soon as he was out of sight and the sound of his footsteps had begun to fade, Stevie realized how quiet it was when he was alone. It gave him the creeps, which as far as he was concerned was only one step down from the heebie-jeebies. Tree limbs creaked even though there was no wind. He could hear his own breathing and the sound of his heart gently beating against his chest. He didn’t like being here, not one little bit. What if his father suddenly decided to check on him? If he found out he wasn’t in his room, he’d be on to the police immediately. What if the police started searching for him? He’d seen half an episode of CSI once. With their resources, they’d have him tracked down in minutes. And they’d find him helping Noah break into the school. Nobody would believe he’d tried to stop him. His life would be over. Over! Sure, Noah was only trying to fix an injustice, but good luck arguing that when you get to court. Legally, the case would be on very shaky ground.

  Calm down, Stevie, he told himself. You’re freaking out. Nothing’s going to go wrong – you just worry too much. You always have. But when he heard another noise, which made him jump, he gave up on trying to be brave. He pushed the gate open and followed Noah up the path. It was only when he was halfway towards the school building that he realized that the gate should have been locked.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘They’re the second-b
est team in the world and there’s no higher praise than that’

  Kevin Keegan

  Noah stopped when he reached the hedged area that surrounded the school’s vegetable garden. The garden was tucked away in a corner within sight of the main building. He’d heard something. He ducked down low so that he was well hidden from sight. The yard where they played football at lunchtime was empty. He was sure whatever it was he’d heard had come from beyond the prefabs, the temporary buildings on the other side of the yard from the school. He was wondering if it was just his imagination when he heard the wheezing off to his right.

  ‘Stevie,’ he said. ‘Over here.’

  ‘Where’s here? It’s not exactly bright tonight.’

  Noah moved to the edge of the garden, into the space between the two thick hedges that acted as an entrance. His friend smiled with relief when he saw Noah’s outline in the darkness, and followed him in.

  ‘I heard something. I think there might be someone out there,’ Noah said.

  ‘Then why are you talking so loudly?’ Stevie whispered furiously. ‘What if it’s a roving gang of axe murderers?’

  ‘And they’ve decided to wait for victims in a closed school, late at night, in a town in the middle of nowhere, in the hope that someone just might turn up?’

  Stevie took a blast on his inhaler. ‘OK, fair point, but what if it’s Kevin McCooley or one of his brothers?’

  Noah hadn’t thought of that. The last thing he wanted was to get caught, but the second last would be a run-in with the McCooleys. In the moment’s silence they heard footsteps. Noah and Stevie ducked down behind the hedge. It would be enough to hide them from anyone’s view unless the intruders had a sudden fancy to do a spot of night-time gardening. A few seconds later, they heard low, mumbling voices.

  Before Stevie could stop him, Noah was crawling on his hands and knees across the cold ground. He reached the gap between the hedges and leaned out for a better look. There were two of them coming from the football pitch behind the prefab. As they passed the entrance to the main building, they accidentally activated the sensor light. The beam of light radiated about ten metres, but didn’t quite reach the vegetable garden. It did reveal the two intruders, though, and Noah recognized them at once. He wasn’t sure of their names, but they were in his year at school.