The Mix-Up

by Adrian Beck

  ‘Remarkably, it wasn’t Mr Jackson’s fault,’ said Highpants. ‘The decision was made because the Lincoln family and the Keshaw family have very recently both left Jindaberg Primary. Which means the school can’t make up the numbers for the football teams. We already had no reserves on both teams and most of our other students are already committed to our Saturday morning chess club.’

  As CJ hopped around he noticed Charlotte’s face drop. She ripped up the petition. It was useless now.

  The whole class exchanged wide-eyed glances as the news sunk in. Lenny and the Keshaw quadruplets? Gone?

  This wasn’t a punishment for CJ’s antics, it was much worse than that.

  Fielding a team was IMPOSSIBLE.

  ‘That’s right, children,’ said Highpants, hitching up his belt. ‘Life’s tough.’

  CJ had the ball at his feet. Time was running out to win the Grand Final. He had NEVER WANTED ANYTHING MORE IN HIS LIFE. He faked left then nudged the ball right, dribbling past the Hillside Hammerheads defender. The Jets’ arch rivals were throwing everything at them. CJ thundered along the sidelines, desperate to spot his teammate, Lenny Lincoln. Usually, that was easy because the big gorilla of a guy had a mohawk like a shark’s fin. Lenny was their CAPTAIN COURAGEOUS. But the only time he and CJ really got along was on the pitch – the one place CJ’s antics seemed to pay off.

  There were players streaming back. CJ tried to clock a Jets green and gold jersey. He was being pushed deep and needed to cross. BIG TIME.

  ‘CJ!’ yelled Lenny, as he ran in front of his opponent near the top of the box. ‘Now!’

  At full speed, CJ booted the ball high above the other players, on target for Lenny, setting him up for the winning header.

  PUFF!

  Suddenly, Lenny was gone. He’d disappeared in a puff of smoke. That’s right, CJ remembered, he’d left the school! And then the other Jets strikers disappeared as well.

  PUFF! PUFF! PUFF!

  All his teammates were gone. It was just CJ and all the Hammerheads. They were getting bigger, growing in size by the second. Like a team of INCREDIBLE HULKS. And they were angry. He didn’t like them when they were angry.

  It was all up to CJ.

  The ball bounced at the top of the box. CJ dodged through the legs of his gigantic opponent. He leapt into the air. Stretched out like a ninja. His foot thumped the ball and …

  KERAAAASH!

  He put his foot STRAIGHT THROUGH his fish tank.

  Instantly he was back in his bedroom watching the side of his tank shatter into a million pieces. Water gushed out, tumbling down the front of his bookcase. Rocks, fish toys, shattered glass and two flashes of orange fell to the floor.

  ‘Aw, come on, man!’ cried CJ. ‘Can’t a guy even enjoy an afternoon nap and dream about last year’s Grand Final without it all going wrong!’

  Little Lionel and Luis – CJ’s two goldfish – were flopping around on the floor. He tried to pick up Luis first. But the slimy sucker just slipped out of his hands. So CJ grabbed his drink bottle and scooped up both fish. He also grabbed his three sea snails and popped them in the top pocket of his pants as he quickly got changed.

  Problem solved.

  In stunned silence he took in the chaotic scene that was his bedroom. His floor was DRENCHED. His dad wasn’t going to like this. There was only one solution.

  GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!

  Just as CJ was about to make a run for it, he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. Uh-oh! Dad!

  CJ slipped out his bedroom door to find his father dressed in dance gear. CJ was no fashion expert but he couldn’t help wondering if purple bike shorts and lime green headbands were the latest trend.

  ‘Wow. The lads and I just had a beaut session. Benji’s dad works us hard!’ said Dad, practising some dance moves that reminded CJ of ‘I’m a Little Teapot’.

  ‘Really?’ asked CJ, sheepishly closing his door behind him.

  CJ’s dad paused. ‘You’re not … embarrassed by me are you, son?’

  ‘Well, um, ah –’

  ‘Oh, son, I …’

  ‘It’s fine, Dad,’ said CJ. He’d never imagined his dad taking up dancing, but it was better than seeing him moping around all the time. ‘Don’t be stupid. I’m just happy you’re happy, y’know.’

  ‘Thanks. We are going to nail this talent comp, Charles, I can feel it!’ said his dad. ‘And it might help me shape up a little. Dancing’s quite a workout. Never really got into it when your mother was around.’ He grabbed CJ’s drink bottle and took a gulp before CJ could stop him.

  GLUG, GLUG, GLUG.

  ‘Um. Dad?’

  CJ’s dad wiped his mouth. ‘Might be time to refill this, Charles. Tastes salty.’

  ‘Right. Good idea,’ said CJ.

  Then he coughed. Was a fish tail about to pop out of his lips?

  No. Apparently not. CJ imagined Lionel and Luis swimming around his dad’s pot belly. At least they’d have plenty of room.

  ‘I need to borrow your iPod speaker, that okay?’ asked Dad.

  CJ pictured the minor flood in his bedroom. ‘Maybe later?’

  ‘Oh. Okay,’ said Dad, heading to the living room. ‘I’ll smash out a few stretches.’

  CJ peered down into his bottle. Would he find fish or no fish?

  He tilted the bottle for a better view.

  Swimming in circles were little Lionel and Luis. PHEW.

  ‘I’ll deal with you two later.’ CJ stashed the drink bottle in his room, then ran out the front door. ‘Back soon!’

  It was now dark outside. CJ’s afternoon nap had lasted longer than he’d expected. Light streamed from the windows of Charlotte’s house opposite. CJ crossed the cul-de-sac for a stickybeak.

  In the darkness, CJ bumped into the totem tennis pole in Charlotte’s front yard. Only this particular pole had a football attached to the end of the string instead of a tennis ball. CJ would often glance out his living room window to see Charlotte kicking the ball to herself. Years ago, when she’d first created the gadget, CJ made the mistake of laughing at her.

  ‘Shut it, CJ. It’s okay for a natural like you, but some of us have to practise.’

  As CJ sidestepped the totem pole, he heard Charlotte’s voice from inside. She had her ‘this is serious’ tone going. Pretty much like she always did.

  ‘I won’t give up,’ said Charlotte. ‘The Jets aren’t going anywhere, not if I have anything to do with it.’

  There were a few grunts of agreement.

  ‘They can’t do this. Football is my thing,’ said Charlotte.

  That may have been true. But CJ was pretty sure everything was her thing. She’d won the maths, science and English awards last year for the fifth time running.

  ‘Sucked in, Charlotte!’ yelled her little brother Ronnie, then CJ heard his footsteps running away.

  ‘See what I have to put up with?’ said Charlotte, with a frustrated laugh. ‘But on the pitch I can forget it all. And, y’know what? Sometimes I feel free.’

  ‘Whoa,’ CJ whispered to himself. He’d never heard Charlotte explain it like that. Made sense. With her dad’s crazy work hours it fell to her and her mum to look after their big family. It seemed Charlotte and CJ both loved football for very different reasons. CJ did it for the thrill, but sometimes he wondered whether he also did it because it reminded him of watching his mum play in the local comp.

  Then Mrs Alessi appeared in the window. ‘CJ! Ciao!’

  ‘Oh. Hey Mrs A.’

  ‘Come inside, young man, we haven’t seen you in ages!’

  ‘Um –’

  The front door opened. Mrs Alessi had the sort of smile that seemed to warm you up. ‘I won’t take no for an answer!’

  CJ was pulled inside. He used to go over to Charlotte’s place all the time when he was younger, but these days CJ only really saw Charlotte at school.

  The dining room was packed. Not only were Charlotte’s four younger sisters there, including her baby sister, Sofia, who
was perched in a highchair at the head of the table, but she also had all her friends around. In fact it was the girls’ football team. Charlotte placed some delicious bruschetta alongside the salami and the cheeses that were laid out across the table. CJ’s tummy rumbled. Why wasn’t anyone eating? Or talking for that matter.

  CJ struggled to find a spot to stand. The dining room always looked crowded, thanks to Mrs Alessi’s knick-knacks, but tonight it was full to the brim.

  ‘Oh, hi CJ,’ said Charlotte with a sigh.

  ‘Um … Happy Birthday!’ said CJ, grabbing the first thing he found in his pants pocket. ‘I got you this … used tissue.’

  ‘Eww. And no, it’s not my birthday,’ said Charlotte. ‘This was meant to be a pre-season team catch up. Not really sure what you’d call it now.’

  DING DONG!

  The doorbell. As Mrs Alessi left to answer it, CJ leaned over to grab some bruschetta. Suddenly, his pants pocket felt lighter.

  One of his sea snails had fallen out!

  He scanned the table. No sign of it.

  CJ considered asking Charlotte for help, but she didn’t seem to be in a very helpful mood. Plus, baby Sofia blew a raspberry at him.

  Then Principal Swift and Highpants entered, alongside Mrs Alessi. Principal Swift glanced around with her big all-knowing eyes. ‘Girls, I figured you’d all be here so I wanted to come around with an announcement.’

  Her eyes fell on CJ. ‘Oh, hello CJ. Glad you’re here too.’

  CJ gave her a salute. Highpants frowned at him.

  ‘I know how important the Jindaberg Jets FC is to everyone in this room.’ Principal Swift’s eyes grew even wider. She really meant it. ‘So I’ve devised a way we can save our football tradition.’

  ‘What’s the plan?’ asked CJ, as he noticed a shiny trail on the table that disappeared at a plate of cannoli. ‘Come on, don’t leave us in suspenders!’

  ‘I think you mean …’ began Charlotte. ‘Oh, never mind. Yes, please tell us, Principal Swift.’

  ‘We’re all ears,’ said Lexi, with another one of her winning smiles. ‘Even though my parents made me join the team, I just can’t imagine living without it, now.’

  ‘Well,’ said Principal Swift, ‘we’re going to combine the teams!’

  ‘Huh?’ said CJ.

  Charlotte frowned, unsure what to make of the idea. Sofia started crying.

  ‘This year, the school is going to enter the mixed football competition. We’re merging the boys’ and girls’ sides.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Charlotte, as the others exchanged glances. There were shrugs and screwed up faces.

  ‘Sweet,’ said CJ.

  ‘It’s all rather exciting isn’t it!’ said Principal Swift, clapping her hands. ‘And not only that, Mr Hyants will be your new coach.’

  ‘Me?’ asked Highpants with surprise.

  ‘Yes, why not put your big booming karaoke voice to good use on the sidelines.’

  ‘Well, I do have quite a range,’ boasted Highpants, grabbing some cannoli from under CJ’s nose. And in the split second before Highpants popped the pastry in his mouth, CJ glimpsed the SNAIL that had BURROWED INSIDE.

  Too late. Highpants took a bite. ‘Mmm, crunchy!’

  BLEEUUURGH!

  ‘So, the season will start this weekend with your first game against the Hillside Hammerheads. I hope you’re all raring to go! I can’t wait!’ Principal Swift beamed at the group, unaware of the faces Highpants was starting to pull.

  ‘You look how I feel,’ said Charlotte, taking CJ aside. ‘A mixed football team. It’ll be like starting from scratch. How’s that supposed to work?’

  ‘Guess we’ll find out soon enough!’ said CJ, as Highpants ran from the room holding his mouth. ‘Our new coach is off to a good start.’

  Once the teachers left, CJ felt so inspired he JUMPED UP ONTO THE TABLE. But he tripped over a bowl of meatballs.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked Charlotte, steadying the bowl.

  ‘Everyone! Listen up! I have a pronouncement,’ shouted CJ, ignoring the mess he was making.

  ‘A what?’ asked Charlotte.

  ‘Just don’t kick any meatballs near my dress, okay?’ snapped Lexi.

  ‘So, we have a game this weekend,’ said CJ. He looked around the room of girls. ‘That’s right. We!’

  ‘So it seems,’ said Charlotte.

  ‘Reckon we need to get sorted, otherwise we’re going to get thrashed by those Hammerheads,’ said CJ. ‘As captain, I’d like to schedule a training session at lunchtime tomorrow.’

  ‘As captain?’ exclaimed Charlotte. ‘Captain?’

  ‘You?’ scoffed Saanvi, who CJ had never really got along with. ‘You couldn’t captain a paddle boat.’

  ‘Why not me?’ asked CJ. ‘I was topscorer of the boys’ team last year.’

  ‘Yeah, but Lenny was captain.’

  ‘News flash. Gorilla boy’s nicked off! That’s why we’re in this position.’

  Saanvi wouldn’t let up. ‘Charlotte’s going to be captain. No question. She led us to the championship last year.’

  ‘No duh, I was on the front page of the paper with her!’

  ‘Who votes Charlotte?’ asked Lexi, broadly smiling around the room.

  Every hand went up, even baby Sofia’s.

  CJ suddenly felt very hot. ‘This is only half the team. Doesn’t count.’

  ‘Sore loser,’ said Saanvi. The rest of the girls made noises like they agreed.

  CJ glanced at the bowl of meatballs. He pictured KICKING THEM OVER THE TABLE as a protest. His leg even started twitching.

  ‘Before this turns into a food fight,’ said Charlotte, raising her hands up in the air to calm the scene. ‘Let’s hold off on deciding the captaincy. We’ll get the opening match out of the way first.’

  CJ looked up. ‘Sounds reasonable. Okay, deal.’

  ‘Great. Why don’t we meet at recess to lock in a training session time that suits everyone?’ said Charlotte.

  ‘All right. Plan,’ said CJ, flicking a meatball into his mouth and getting sauce all over his chin.

  CJ slumped onto the couch in his living room. He planned on sleeping there overnight. It was a better option than cleaning his room. Over the years, CJ had found most options were better than cleaning his room.

  As a rule, CJ didn’t like to waste much time on thinking, but a lot had happened that night. He felt all jingly. The football season was BACK ON! Woohoo! But, not quite the way he expected. Plus, surely he was the obvious choice for captain. Maybe he just needed to do something SUPER IMPRESSIVE to win them over. Like burp the team theme song. That’d do it for sure. Thinking time over. Phew!

  CJ reached for the remote. His dad still had an old VHS machine hooked up to the telly. CJ had been working his way through a bunch of his mum’s old football video tapes. A couple of nights ago he’d watched the famous Socceroos match against American Samoa where Archie Thompson scored a record 13 GOALS. AMAZING. Archie put on a masterclass, but CJ was pretty sure he’d break the record himself someday.

  The next tape in the pile was unnamed. CJ shoved it in the slot and hit the play button.

  It was a home movie. His dad, with more hair and less belly, waved to the camera. It was filmed in their front yard. The trampoline looked brand new, beside it was a portable barbecue and a table full of snacks. Adults – maybe neighbours – were chatting together. His heart squeezed a little when he glimpsed his mum.

  The camera panned to two toddlers running around on the grass. One scruffy looking blond boy. One girl with long brown hair pulled back in a neat and tidy ponytail – probably four or five years old at the most. The boy had snot smeared across half his face. Bit of a grub. But he dribbled the ball okay.

  His dad’s voice boomed out from the TV speakers, ‘Chase the football, Charles!’

  Charles? WAS THAT CJ? He got up off the couch, close to the screen. The grubby kid was him. So who was the girl? Surely not …

  ‘Charlotte! Your turn!�
�� called Mrs Alessi. She looked pretty much the same and was handing out homemade gelato.

  CJ had no memory of this whatsoever.

  On the screen, little Charlotte came running over to little CJ. It looked like she was simply going to push him over! But CJ got around her. His dad cheered somewhere in the background as little CJ ran with the ball, but little Charlotte hadn’t given up. She sprinted around in front of CJ and held him up. He tried passing her on the left, but she had her foot in the way. She stole the ball. Little CJ started crying.

  ‘Chase her, Charles!’ cried his dad.

  Charlotte looked less sure on her feet, but her eyes were glued to the ball. It was that familiar no-nonsense look Charlotte always had. Then little CJ caught her.

  Back in the living room, CJ found himself barracking, ‘Come on, little me, tackle her. Use your footwork. Regain possession.’

  But little CJ just reached down and picked up the ball, snatching it away.

  ‘Mine!’ pouted little CJ.

  Charlotte grabbed it too. They both had hold of the ball. And both were bawling their eyes out. Little CJ had more snot streaming from his nose than seemed possible. Little Charlotte looked like she was about to deck little CJ.

  They both tugged on the ball till little CJ JERKED it so hard he elbowed a jug of water and drinking glasses. They tumbled off the table and smashed onto the ground. Some glasses went flying. Other glasses of red cordial erupted like mini volcanoes. There were crashing sounds. Adults freaking out. And food being knocked – SPLAT – onto the ground.

  FZZZT.

  CJ flicked off the TV. Even back then the two of them had fought over football. CJ and Charlotte had never really been on the same page. (Apart from that one front-page of the newspaper, of course). Maybe they were just too different to make Principal Swift’s big idea work. Was this mix-up of teams doomed to fail?

  Charlotte was up at 5:30 am. CJ knew this because the light in her front yard beamed directly into his face and woke him as he lay on the couch in his living room.

  Charlotte had baby Sofia propped up in a bouncer. She was booting footballs into her home’s front wall, on which she’d drawn a massive goal with chalk.