by Holly Webb
The triplets and Megan settled themselves around the big pine kitchen table with bowls of cereal to take the edge off their hunger. Mum always made something special for breakfast at the weekends. She got up and put the grill on – “Bacon sandwiches for everybody?”
There was a general chorus of yes-type noises made though mouthfuls of cereal, except for Megan, who swallowed fast and managed to say, “That would be lovely, Mrs Ryan,” in a very polite voice before she choked and disappeared under three people thumping her on the back.
Half an hour later everyone was still sitting round the table, sleepily licking bacon and ketchup off their fingers, when Annabel looked at the clock, and sat up straight. “What time are we meeting the others?”
Becky squinted thoughtfully at the clock. “Ummm, at the end of the road … twenty-seven minutes from now?”
By the time she’d finished her sentence, Katie, Annabel and Megan were already on the stairs, and she was talking to an empty table.
Mum grinned at her. “I’d say the chances of you getting in the bathroom this morning are pretty low.”
“No, it’s OK, Bel’s already washed…” yawned Becky, sleepily heading for the stairs.
Believe it or not, twenty-seven minutes later Megan and the triplets were, if not actually at the end of the road, at least within waving distance of Fran and Saima. Annabel looked glossily perfect in a denim skirt, bright pink tights and her current favourite things, her silver Kickers boots (bought with several months’ pocket money). She’d even had time to curl her hair. The other three looked fine but not up to her standards, and Annabel was doing Becky’s hair as they jogged along. Becky had thought her hair looked perfectly OK, but Annabel said she wouldn’t be seen dead with someone whose hair looked like that. The six of them squashed on to the bench at the bus stop, chattering happily. Megan and Katie passed on the good news about yesterday’s match, and then they got down to the important business of which shops they were going to that morning. They were going into Stallford, the big town that they all lived on the outskirts of. Darefield had its own high street with a couple of nice shops (including a brilliant clothes shop called Silver) but for serious shopping, they needed to go into town. On the top deck of the bus they worked out the plan of campaign.
“Topshop, obviously,” said Saima, who was as clothes-mad as Annabel, and currently a lot richer, having not spent what both her mother and sisters considered a ridiculous amount of money on silver boots.
“Oh, obviously,” grinned Katie, but she was only teasing. “And, let me guess, Claire’s Accessories and GirlStuff. Why are we even bothering to talk about it?”
“Well, where do you want to go?” asked Annabel in a very patient, talking-to-a-dim-person sort of voice.
“I don’t mind those places – as long as we go to a couple of sports shops as well, and you and Saima don’t moan all the time. What about you, Becky?”
“Don’t mind.” Becky shrugged, and shot an enquiring glance at Fran. “Can we go to the pet shop? We could always split up if it’s only me and Fran who want to.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Katie firmly. “We go to the pet shop for you two, the sports shop for me and Megan, and clothes shops so Bel can drool while Saima buys stuff. More fun that way than splitting up. OK?”
Everyone nodded – Katie was very good at taking charge, but she did tend to get things sorted, so it was easier just to let her get on with it.
“But GirlStuff first ’cause it’s closest to the bus stop, OK?” added Saima.
GirlStuff sold everything – clothes, shoes (it was where the silver boots had come from), hair stuff, make-up. Saima and Annabel probably could have spent all day in there, if the others hadn’t got bored after half an hour and started sighing every time they picked up something new. Saima bought a pair of black tights with big pink flowers on and got huffily upset when Katie seemed to find them hilariously amusing.
“I’m sorry, Saima, they’re very – sweet, it’s just funny, great big flowers all over your legs—” Here Annabel trod on her foot, and she shut up.
“They’re gorgeous, Saima. Katie just has no taste. Come on, let’s go. Hey, what are Becky and Fran buying?” Annabel sounded slightly amazed – this was an Annabel and Saima shop. It turned out that the same range of tights also had a purple pair with cute, slinky little black cats on, which Becky had fallen in love with.
“We’d better get Katie to a sports shop before she explodes,” said Saima, grinning. She was a very sweet-natured person, and her huff about the tights had been more for the principle of the thing than because she really minded.
Megan and Katie were perfectly capable of spending hours in a sports shop, so after a quick wander around, and ten minutes of looking at very cool and unbelievably expensive trainers, Annabel, Saima, Becky and Fran came over to where Megan and Katie were, and perched themselves on the edge of a skiwear display to wait. The shop was packed, and the assistants were far too busy to care – at least, that was what Annabel told Becky very firmly when she dithered about whether it was OK to sit there or not. “Besides, I’m exhausted. Oh, Becky, sit down, you look as though you’re about to stick a pair of skis down your jumper, and that’ll bring that spotty boy over here if nothing else will. Sit!”
Becky sat, and the four of them turned their attention to Megan and Katie, who were sadly surveying the football stuff. Racks and racks of super-expensive team shirts, celebrity-endorsed boots, and towering piles of gleaming footballs. Katie and Megan looked depressed, and distinctly envious of a couple of boys who were trying on boots.
“What’s the matter?” asked Saima, looking puzzled. “Can’t you afford anything?”
Katie came over. “Nope,” she said, chewing the end of her ponytail. “It’s all way too much. I mean, look—”
“I know what I meant to ask you. Those shirts reminded me,” burst out Annabel suddenly. “Why doesn’t your football team have proper shirts? I mean, like those other girls had?”
Katie sighed. It was true – the Hillcrest side had been wearing neat black shorts and shirts quartered in black and purple. They had purple blazers too, so she supposed the strip matched their uniform. The Manor Hill girls just wore their green PE shorts and white polo shirts – it didn’t look like a proper team outfit.
Megan had given up sighing over the Manchester United shirts and joined them in time to hear Annabel’s question. She made a face. “I know, it isn’t fair. But the team’s only been playing since last year, and there hasn’t been any money for us to have a special strip.”
“But the boys have one, don’t they?” Fran sounded confused. “I’m sure they do, I’ve seen that idiot Max wearing it – a red shirt?”
“Yup.” Now Katie scowled. “The boys’ team’s been going for ages. I don’t think there’s any money for us to have special shirts made.”
There was silence as everyone digested the unfairness of this.
“Are the boys’ team any good?” asked Becky eventually.
“Nope,” and “They’re OK,” said Katie and Megan at the same time.
Katie shrugged. “Like Fran said, Max is in the team. I suppose they’re all right, but no way are they as good as us.”
“That’s so not fair.” Annabel sounded really cross. Football might be deeply boring as far as she was concerned, but she knew Katie was a brilliant player, and it seemed totally wrong that she shouldn’t have all the stuff she needed.
“Come on.” Katie heaved Annabel up off the ski display. “Hanging about here’s just going to make me and Megan all huffy. And that spotty guy’s giving us a funny look.”
“Seriously, though,” continued Annabel as they left the shop, walking past the spotty sales assistant and smiling sweetly at him, “you should have the proper kit. It didn’t look good, just wearing your PE shirts. Like you couldn’t be bothered.”
“Don’t te
ll me,” snapped Katie irritably. “Tell the school!” But she smiled at Annabel to take the edge off her words, and then changed the subject. “OK. Pet shop? Are we just bunny-gazing, or are you actually buying something, Becky?”
That was the end of it for the moment – even Annabel could see that Katie and Megan were annoyed and it wouldn’t be fair to keep on about it – but Katie couldn’t dismiss the idea as easily as she pretended. The whole time that Becky and Fran stood in front of a cage of black-and-white rats looking lovestruck, while Saima and Annabel shuddered theatrically and made hissing comments about the plague, she seethed to herself at the unfairness of it. Even a litter of kittens, which sent all six of them into fits of “aaah”ing, couldn’t completely get football shirts out of Katie’s head. And they, and Dad, stayed at the back of her mind for the rest of the weekend.
Chapter Three
After their shopping expedition on Saturday, the triplets spent the rest of the weekend loafing around, and doing the totally unreasonable amount of homework that they’d been set. Shopping wore you out! Katie loafed and grumped at the same time, but after a whole day and a half of growling quietly about how unfair it was that Manor Hill wouldn’t pay for their team to have a real football strip, she got bored with herself. If there wasn’t the money, then there wasn’t the money, and what was the point of moaning about it? She knew perfectly well that there were times when going on (and on and on) about something would get it for you – she and Becky and Annabel had it down to a fine art. (When you whined in triplicate, you were practically irresistible.) But this was not one of them. So being Katie, she decided to do something about it herself instead. She was pretty sure that Mrs Ross, their coach, and the rest of the PE staff would be delighted if the girls’ team had their own shirts – they couldn’t much like the scruffy look of the girls when they were playing matches against smartly turned-out teams like Hillcrest. It made everyone look as though they weren’t taking the team seriously. So, really, it was just the money that was the problem.
Katie was very silent at breakfast on Monday – having worked this conclusion through in her mind, she wasn’t entirely sure where to go next. How much did football shirts even cost, anyway? She had a feeling that the team might have to buy quite a lot of them because they’d always be getting lost, or torn, or shrunk by people’s parents who accidentally put things in the washing machine at boil-wash temperatures. It wouldn’t work to make people just buy a shirt when they joined the team, mused Katie to herself, sucking on her spoon with an expression of total idiocy that sent Annabel into hysterics – although Katie took no notice of her whatsoever. No, that wouldn’t be fair. People already had to get their own boots. What if somebody was really good at football, but just couldn’t afford the shirt? It might put them off totally.
Katie got this far and then woke up a bit. “What’s the matter with you?” she asked Annabel, who was scarlet in the face by now. Unfortunately, she said it round the cereal spoon, and Annabel nearly exploded with laughter.
“Oh,” Katie took the spoon out of her mouth and went slightly pink. “Is that what she’s laughing at?” she asked Becky, who was giggling, but nowhere near in the same state as Annabel.
“Yup. Sorry, Katie, but you had the funniest look on your face, like your brain had totally gone on holiday. What on earth were you thinking about?”
“Football shirts. I was wondering if we could raise money to buy them ourselves. The team, I mean. As the school can’t.”
Becky nodded thoughtfully, and Annabel managed to stop giggling for long enough to say, “Good idea. If you raised lots you could have better ones than the boys, that’d be cool.”
Mum laughed. “It is a good idea. You should talk to Mrs Ross about it. You three need to get going by the way, or you’ll never be there on time.”
The triplets heaved themselves up from the breakfast table and went to find their stuff. Getting to school on Monday mornings was always more of a trudge than other days, somehow.
When they got to school, Katie brightened up. The triplets had met up with Saima and Fran on the way, and now she could see Megan waiting for them by the horse chestnut tree in the playground. Megan was sitting on one of the huge twisted roots that made the tree such a good place for meeting and chatting. She looked semi-comatose, and not particularly in a state to be enthusiastic about energetic fund-raising plans. But when Katie sat down next to her and said, “How would you like us to have our own proper team shirts?” she did manage an enquiring look.
“What? How?”
“We could raise the money for them ourselves. I bet we can. People are always raising money for things.”
Katie waved a hand vaguely. She hadn’t got much further than deciding to raise the money. She’d figure out how later! “Will you come with me and ask Mrs Ross at practice tonight?”
“Mmm.” Megan nodded thoughtfully. “It’s a good idea. We definitely need our own shirts. Your sister was right – we did look silly on Friday.”
For Megan and Katie, that Monday seemed extra-long, and as soon as school finished they dashed off to the changing rooms to get into their sports kit and grab Mrs Ross.
The coach was pulling a big net of balls out of the PE storeroom, and she looked pleased to see them. “Hello, you two – wow, you moved fast, it’s only twenty to four. And congratulations, by the way. I didn’t have much time to talk to you on Friday, but you both played really well, especially as it was your first match.”
Megan flushed as red as her hair with pleasure, and Katie was tongue-tied. Mrs Ross seemed to accept their beaming smiles as answer enough, though. She grinned back. “Did you want anything special? Or are you just feeling helpful?”
“Oh!” Katie had almost forgotten about their mission after Mrs Ross had been so nice. “Well, we did come to help…” she tailed off and smiled shyly.
“But…?” said Mrs Ross, with her head on one side like a curious bird.
“We had an idea we wanted to ask you about. It was my sister who made us think of it.” Katie glanced at Megan, who was nodding in encouragement. “She asked why we didn’t have a proper team strip like the Hillcrest side did.”
“Annabel said she thought we didn’t look as good as the Hillcrest team,” chimed in Megan. “She thought we looked a bit silly, just in our PE kit.”
Mrs Ross made a face. “I’m sorry, girls. I know it’s annoying that you don’t have a real strip – especially when you’re doing so well. Team shirts cost a lot, that’s the problem. I know a proper kit for you is one of the things on the PE department’s list of stuff it wants to spend money on – but I’m afraid it’s quite a long list.”
“Oh, we know,” Katie jumped in eagerly. “That’s why we came up with this idea. We were wondering if we could raise the money. The team, I mean.”
“Do you think we could, Mrs Ross?” Megan asked hopefully.
The coach looked thoughtful. “It’s a big commitment. But I do think it’s a very good idea. And it would show everyone that you girls are committed.” Privately Mrs Ross was also thinking that it might be a good way to bond the team together a bit more. If Katie, Megan and Cara were going to stay on the team – and that would depend on how they played, and on Michelle, Lizzie and Caroline, whose places they’d taken – the Year Eights needed to get used to the idea. Maybe working together on something like this would help. She smiled. “I’ll talk to everyone at the end of practice – now, can you two carry these balls out to the pitch?”
Football practice didn’t leave much room for thinking about anything apart from what a slave-driver Mrs Ross was, so it wasn’t until the end of the session when the exhausted team had put their sweaters back on and flopped down on the grass for Mrs Ross to talk to them, that Katie and Megan remembered what she was going to talk about.
“Well done, everybody. Lots of hard work going on there. And congratulations to all of you on last
Friday’s result. That was a really excellent game. You do realize, don’t you, that if we keep this up we’ve got a really good chance of being in the league final? The semi-final’s on Wednesday – yes, you did know that, Kiran, it was on the sheet we sent out at the beginning of term!” Mrs Ross glared at Kiran, who’d been looking blank at this announcement, but she was well known to be a bit scatty. Then Mrs Ross smiled again. “Now, I’ve got an interesting suggestion for all of you. I know that you’d all like to have your own team strip” – she paused to let the chorus of oohs and yeses roll over her – “but the school’s not been able to pay for one yet. Katie and Megan have suggested that we try to raise money for new shirts for all of you ourselves. What do you think? It would mean raising about three hundred pounds to pay to have a sufficient number of shirts made. I know it sounds a lot, but…” She paused again to see what sort of reaction the team was giving.
The team captain, Sarah, who was very popular, and quite scary, turned to Katie. “Your idea?” She sounded slightly surprised that a Year Seven could actually have ideas at all, let alone a good one. Katie fought down a snappy reply and just nodded – she had something of the same feeling about the team as Mrs Ross, that it would be nice if they could all get along. “What kind of stuff do you want to do to raise the money?”
Katie shrugged. “I don’t know, I didn’t really get that far. A cake sale, or something?”
“Sponsored laps round the field!” broke in someone else, and everyone groaned, but the fund-raising idea was definitely popular – people were chattering excitedly about what they could do.
“Why don’t you all have a think before Wednesday’s match?” Mrs Ross suggested, pleased with the way they were now all coming up with plans. “The team list will go up tomorrow morning, so remember to check. By the minibus at quarter to four, please, those of you who’re playing! Off you go, then.”
As they headed back to the changing rooms, Katie and Megan wondered about their chances of being in the team again.