The Mighty Dynamo

by Kieran Crowley

  ‘Yeah, very, very slim, almost impossible,’ Noah agreed, ‘but I have to try. What else can I do? I’m too young to get a full-time job. I’m not smart enough to start my own business. This is all I can do for now. If you were me, you’d try too, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, Noah, I would,’ Mrs Power said with a smile.

  She opened a drawer in her dark wooden desk and took out the form Simone had given her.

  ‘You’re going to do it,’ he said.

  He jumped from his chair and took half a step towards her, ready to embrace her in a bear hug until he remembered who she was and where he was. Instead of continuing, he just stood there awkwardly with a huge, slightly stupid grin on his face.

  ‘Now, before I sign this, there’s something I’m going to need you to do for me.’

  ‘I’ll do anything you want me to do,’ Noah said.

  Name: Margaret O’Connell

  Nickname: None. People call me Maggie, but it’s not really a nickname, is it?

  Age: 12

  Position: Forward. But I’m not one of those who tracks back and does all that tackling and stuff. I save my energy so I can score amazing goals.

  Likes: Football. Ice cream. Burgers. Big Bang Theory.

  Dislikes: Moving. I’ve moved to four different towns in the last five years because of my dad’s work. You get sick of it. Getting to know new people all the time is a pain.

  Player you’re most like: I’m unique. One of a kind. Take the best qualities from any player you can think of and I have them all. I’m not being arrogant, just honest. If you asked me if I was any good at music, I’d be honest too – I’m rubbish and I sing like a crow. But when it comes to football there’s no getting away from it – I’m going to be great.

  Favourite player: Me. I’ll be your favourite player too. Just give it a few years. I also like James Rodriguez.

  Favourite goal: I love World Cups more than anything, so even though they weren’t the greatest goals ever scored I went crazy when the US women’s team beat Japan 5–2 in the final. In the men’s World Cup when John Brooks scored the winner for the USA against Ghana with less than five minutes to go, I screamed the house down. I loved John’s celebration too. He was just so stunned to have scored. My mom’s American and we had a crazy time supporting both teams. #USWNT #USMNT

  Messi or Ronaldo: Ronaldo. All day every day.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘What Carew does with a football, I can do with an orange’

  Zlatan Ibrahimovic

  Noah wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure at all.

  ‘A girl,’ he said for the third time, his voice rising a little higher every time he said it. ‘She said there was a new girl in school called Maggie O’Connell who was big into football and she’d sign the form if we agreed to let this O’Connell girl play for us.’

  ‘Why does that bother you? You’re not saying girls can’t play football,’ Simone said darkly, challenging him to say the opposite.

  ‘No, I’m not saying they can’t play football, but I need people in the team who are good and she might not be good. I’ve never seen her play. She could be worse than Stevie.’

  ‘None taken,’ Stevie said.

  Simone sighed. ‘Look, you wanted to be in the tournament and now you are. That’s the important thing.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ Noah said. ‘Mrs Power rang Maggie O’Connell. The call woke her up even though it’s a school morning, which means she’s lazy, so that’s not a good sign. Anyway, Mrs Power asked her if she wanted to play in the tournament and now I have to meet this girl after school and talk to her. Apparently, she wants to see if I’m worth her time. Seems a bit cheeky to me.’

  Simone suppressed a smile. She liked the sound of this Maggie O’Connell already.

  ‘You ever heard of her, Stevie?’ Noah asked.

  ‘Afraid not. Under normal circumstances I’d see if I could find out any information on her playing ability, but we have more pressing concerns. I have to get the word out that we need to find twelve players by five o’clock tomorrow. I’ll get some posters done up then I’ll hit the social media.’ He checked his watch. ‘Oh no. It’s almost ten to nine.’

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll probably still make it to school on time,’ Noah said.

  ‘Probably make it on time? Probably’s not much good to me, Johnny Reckless. There’s no way I’m losing my perfect record. See you later, Simone.’

  He really does have a distinctive running style, Noah thought as Stevie raced down the corridor, his inhaler at the ready.

  As the St Mary’s girls began to arrive for another school day, several of them looked oddly at the St Killian’s boy in their midst, but none more so than Jacinta Hegarty. It seemed as if she was on the verge of saying something nasty, but then appeared to reconsider, choosing instead to watch him closely with narrowed eyes.

  The rain was holding off for now, but it looked as if it would be making its daily visit within the next hour. The school day had just ended and Noah and Stevie, only one of them carrying waterproofs for any future inclement conditions, were on the way to meet Maggie O’Connell in the town park. They passed by the supermarket and crossed the road, Noah holding up a hand to thank the driver of the car that had stopped to let them across.

  ‘We need her on our side, so don’t, you know, antagonize her,’ Stevie said as he followed Noah. Keeping up with him wasn’t easy.

  ‘Antagonize her?’

  ‘Make her angry.’

  ‘I know what “antagonize” means,’ Noah said, his hand tip-tapping along the railing that ran round the park’s perimeter. He could hear the swollen river gushing past at the far end of the pitches. ‘What makes you think I’d make her angry?’

  ‘Oh, nothing, nothing at all. You’re always a joy to be with. On a completely unrelated note, if she gets under your skin, don’t react. Remember, without her there’s no team and no team means no tournament.’

  Noah stopped walking.

  ‘What?’ Stevie said.

  ‘I’m not an idiot, you know. Sometimes you talk to me like I’m an idiot.’

  He opened the squeaky iron gate and entered the park.

  ‘There she is,’ Stevie said.

  The girl was sitting on a park bench. As soon as he saw her, Noah knew that he’d met her before. It wasn’t that he recognized her, more what she was wearing – an MLS jersey. Except this time it wasn’t a Columbus Crew shirt as it had been when he’d seen her at the school gates. Now she was wearing the blue and flashes of red of the New England Revolution club. A zip-up backpack sat alongside her on the bench.

  ‘Remember, be pleasant and listen to—’ Stevie began.

  ‘Don’t worry, I kind of know her. It’s going to be fine. I’ll be charming,’ Noah said, striding ahead.

  ‘Charming? Like you were with Mr Hegarty and Brick? Remember how that worked out? Noah? Noah? Oh dear Lord, we’re in trouble,’ Stevie said, rushing after him.

  ‘Hi, you must be Maggie,’ Noah said when he reached the bench. He stuck his hand out for her to shake.

  ‘Must I?’ Maggie replied, keeping her hands firmly tucked into her pockets.

  He looked at his outstretched hand, and then, not knowing what to do with it, ran it through his hair.

  ‘You’re only gorgeous,’ Maggie said. ‘You should do one of those L’Oréal ads.’

  She was throwing him off his game. It wasn’t so easy to be charming like he’d thought.

  ‘Erm, we’re here about the football. About the team. We’ve actually met before,’ he said.

  ‘I remember. You’re the kid with the swollen face that waved at me like you were the Queen of England,’ Maggie said.

  ‘My face is better now.’

  ‘The bruises have healed up, but I wouldn’t say it’s better.’

  Stevie stifled a laugh.

  Maggie got to her feet and looked Noah in the eye. He knew she wasn’t checking to see if there were any traces of bruising left;
she was testing him in some way. He stared right back at her. Her eyes were green. Very green. He didn’t normally notice anyone’s eye colour, but then he didn’t normally stand this close to someone. It made him feel very uncomfortable and he wanted nothing more than to look away.

  ‘I’m Stevie,’ Stevie said, trying to break the building tension.

  Maggie didn’t acknowledge him so Stevie carried on the conversation by himself as if she had. ‘Nice to meet you, Stevie,’ he said. ‘How are you today? Oh, I’m fine, Maggie, thanks for asking.’

  The clouds above began to turn an ugly shade of grey.

  ‘So you want to get a team together? Why would I want to be on your team?’ she asked.

  ‘Because we’re going to win.’

  ‘What are you going to win?’

  ‘A tournament in Dublin. The winners get to represent Ireland in the Schools’ World Cup. So we win in Dublin, then go to Paris and become world champions,’ Noah said. ‘Sounds good, right?’

  ‘Sounds all right, I suppose,’ Maggie said, her eyes still focused completely on Noah’s. ‘Why do you need me?’

  He wasn’t about to tell her the truth: he was being forced to include her in the team because her school principal wanted her to play. A lie was a better way to go, he decided.

  ‘We need players and I heard you were good,’ he said.

  ‘I am. Put me on the pitch with ten other warm bodies and I’ll win the match for you. I’m not talking about ten decent players either. When I say warm bodies, I mean anyone at all. A random collection of grannies on the way to collecting their pensions would do. Maybe some pre-school children. You could even put some scarecrows out there and if they’re set up in any reasonable tactical formation, I’ll win the match by myself.’

  ‘You’re not modest,’ Noah said.

  ‘Being modest is a waste of time and I don’t like wasting my time. I don’t boast – I tell the truth.’

  Noah’s eyes grew sore and before he knew it he’d blinked.

  ‘Ha! I won,’ Maggie said.

  ‘Won what? We weren’t playing anything,’ Noah said, although he was annoyed with himself. He changed the subject quickly. ‘If you’re as good as you think, I suppose we’ll be seeing you play for Arsenal Ladies or one of those teams in a few years, will we?’

  ‘Nah, I’ll be playing in the same teams as players like James Rodríguez and Neymar. Nothing’s going to stop me.’

  ‘But you’re not a man.’

  She gave him a withering look. ‘Neither are you.’

  ‘What? Ah, you know what I mean.’

  ‘One hundred years ago women couldn’t even vote, now we’re presidents and prime ministers. You aim low, you never achieve anything.’

  Noah was surprised and a little intimidated. This was the first person he’d met who’d had the same intensity as him when it came to making their way in the world of football.

  Little Stevie stepped in between them. ‘We don’t have time for all this chit-chat. If we’re going to enter the competition, we need names and we need them quick. We have a team to recruit. Maggie, are you interested in playing with us or not?’

  ‘Depends.’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘I don’t want to waste time playing for a rubbish team. Captain Blinky here—’

  Noah turned to Stevie in protest. ‘Captain Blinky? I only blinked because that’s what human beings do. We weren’t in a competition. I wasn’t even trying.’

  ‘– Captain Blinky here may not be up to my standard.’

  ‘You’re so wrong. I am up to your standard. In fact, I’m so far ahead of your standard that my standard is looking back at your standard and saying, where is it? The standard, I mean. It’s like yours is in the distance and—’

  ‘I have a lot of things to do today and waiting around for the end of that sentence isn’t one of them, so let’s forget the terrible trash talk and get down to business,’ Maggie said. She unzipped her rucksack and took out a tennis ball. ‘I carry one of these with me wherever I go. That way, if I get stuck anywhere I can practise. It’s not as good as using a football, but it’s easy to transport and helps the reflexes, concentration and coordination.’

  Without warning, she dropped the ball and – bang – volleyed it high in the air.

  Noah knew what she was doing. It was a test. A proper one this time. This was the type of test he liked. He was in his own environment now.

  The ball soared higher than Noah had anticipated. It turned out that Maggie O’Connell had the kick of a violently angry mule. That didn’t mean she was a great player, but it was a good start, Noah thought.

  The rest of the world faded away until all that remained was Noah and the tennis ball. His concentration was total. He tracked its fall and adjusted his position, moving a metre to his right to ensure it would drop slightly beyond him. He didn’t want to be right underneath it. That’d make it too difficult to control.

  He stuck his leg out, his knee bent at hip height. He caught the ball on his instep, lowering his foot towards the ground to cushion the impact.

  ‘Not bad,’ Maggie said, but she said it in a way that he knew she was impressed.

  But Noah wasn’t finished yet. He flicked the ball back up, let it bounce on his shoulder, then stooped beneath it in a flash, catching the ball on the back of his neck. He made it look as if it was the easiest thing in the world. The ball nestled there, perfectly balanced. He straightened up slowly and let it run down his back. He stuck out his heel and knocked it over his head before catching it on his instep again.

  ‘I already said “not bad”. No need to show off,’ Maggie said.

  Noah didn’t reply. He began to tap the ball on the toe of his trainers, once, twice, three times, then volleyed it high in the air just like Maggie had done. Except he kicked it a little higher and a little bit further away. It sailed over her head and over the park bench.

  She muttered darkly to herself, and then she reacted at speed. Turning and hopping on to the bench, she used the highest wooden slat as a lever to launch herself forward. She landed on the grass, skidding along on one knee, stretched out her left leg and intercepted the ball just before it hit the ground. There was no time to cushion it like Noah had. It popped up in the air. She clambered to her feet and took it on her thigh, then transferred it from her left leg to her right before bicycle-kicking it in Noah’s direction at such a fierce pace that it fizzed past Stevie’s ear.

  ‘Hey,’ he cried.

  The pace didn’t bother Noah, though. He jumped and controlled it on his chest before performing a series of flicks. He began to whistle jauntily, then side-heeled the ball into the air. Maggie was round the bench in a moment and controlled it quickly before doing a few flicks herself.

  ‘Two show-offs doing tricks like a couple of performing seals seeking approval. We’ll be here forever,’ Stevie said to himself. ‘Right, Noah and Maggie, you’re both fantastic, but we have things to do so I’m putting an end to this.’

  He strode purposefully into the space between the two of them, determined to intercept the ball. He missed, his fingers grasping fresh air as Maggie lazily looped the ball over his head. Noah tipped it back and Stevie jumped this time, just grazing the green fuzz, but not enough to knock it from its path.

  ‘Hey, come on, I told you to stop,’ he cried.

  Before he knew it, he was the pig in a game of pig-in-the-middle. For the next minute Noah and Maggie teased him by knocking the ball over his head, under his legs, to his left, to his right, with a skill and precision that Stevie would have admired if he hadn’t been on the receiving end of it. No matter what he did, the tennis ball was always just out of his reach. Eventually Noah felt sorry for him as his friend’s cheeks began to turn red with exertion and his breathing became laboured. Noah trapped the ball under his foot.

  ‘He’s asthmatic,’ he said by way of explanation, even though Stevie would have preferred it if he hadn’t said anything.

  ‘You two .
. . are really . . . mean,’ Stevie gasped.

  ‘Mean, but talented,’ Noah said.

  ‘You’re both great,’ Stevie said wearily.

  ‘Yeah, but I’m better,’ Maggie said.

  ‘Keep telling yourself that. It’ll help your confidence,’ Noah said.

  ‘Right, this is like a really bad version of a WWE wind-up. Can we focus on what we need to do?’ Stevie said. ‘It’s going to rain in a minute.’

  ‘You know, my dad owns a company called OC Holdings so we’re always moving around. I’ve lived in four different places in the last five years and I’ve never seen such miserable weather. Does it always rain here?’ Maggie asked.

  ‘Most of the time, yes. Anyway, I suggest that we go to Dee’s Diner. We can get some seats there and sort out what needs to be done.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  TWENTY-FOUR HOURS, FORTY-TWO MINUTES AND TEN SECONDS TO TOURNAMENT DEADLINE

  ‘The FA have given me a pat on the back. I’ve taken violence off the terracing and on to the pitch’

  Vinnie Jones

  Dee’s Diner was the only place in town that allowed crowds of young people to hang around all day long. To call Dee’s a disgusting kip was to be unfair to disgusting kips. You couldn’t slip on the grease on the floor there because the grease had been around for so long it had become a solid that obscured the original flooring. Young people ventured to Dee’s because it was the only place in town where you could sit for hours unbothered by any of the staff as long as you bought a single item on the menu. And young people were the only ones who would risk their health by eating the food that was served. Young people and Dee’s Diner had what could be called a symbiotic relationship.

  It was half empty now and Jack, the owner, was behind the counter. He was an enormous man who looked like he’d spent the last thirty years eating nothing but his own burgers and battered fish. His red-and-white striped apron was stained with chip fat, pickle juice and flakes of cigarette ash. The rumours around town were that it hadn’t been washed since the European Championships of 2004.