by Holly Webb
Mrs Ross was striding up and down the changing room. “Just remember, girls. You’ve trained harder than the boys have, you’ve been a much more successful team so far this term, and you’ve got more team spirit than they have. You’ve really got something to prove – they just want to make you look stupid.”
Sarah nodded. “We really deserve to beat them, and we can. And just think of the money!”
She was right – they’d sold two hundred tickets, so even if they didn’t win, with the extra money from the school they’d raised £400 – which Mrs Ross assured them would be plenty. Katie suddenly remembered what Annabel had stuffed into her hand at breakfast that morning – nerves had made her forget it up until now.
“Sarah?” She was feeling a bit anxious – was she being too pushy?
Sarah turned and beamed at her. “Are you OK?”
“Yes, I’m fine, I just wondered – is it OK to show everybody these? My sister did them.” And Katie waved the big pages from Annabel’s sketch pad under the captain’s nose.
“Wow! Hey, look everyone – Mrs Ross, look! These are great!”
They were Annabel’s new designs for the girls’ football strip – in green and red. Dark green shorts with a red stripe down the side, and green socks with a stripy turnover top. The shirts were green, too, with red collars, and a red band round the arms and the hem. Annabel had done lots of extras, as well, like caps and team jackets. “For when they raised some more money,” she’d said.
Everyone crowded round exclaiming at how cool they looked, and Sarah asked Mrs Ross, “Have we got enough money for something like this?”
Mrs Ross peered at the drawing again. “Yes, I think so – it’s great, Katie. Did Annabel do this?”
Katie nodded, feeling very proud of her ditzy sister.
“Excellent. Well, that’s what you’re playing for, girls!”
Everyone suddenly sobered up. For a minute they’d forgotten about the match in the excitement about their own team strip – but it wouldn’t be enough just to have the money for the strip if they lost – it had gone far beyond that now!
Someone knocked on the door, and Mr Anderson’s voice called, “Ready, girls?”
This was it!
The girls hugged each other, and hastily murmured stuff like “good luck” and “let’s get them”, before jogging out to the pitch. The boys were coming out at the same time, and there was a massive wave of cheering. Katie spotted Annabel and Becky standing with Saima and Fran, although standing wasn’t actually accurate – they were all jumping up and down and screaming. Even Annabel had stopped pretending she couldn’t care less about football – for the moment anyway. She was clutching her phone, poised for loads of photos for their scrapbook. Katie waved excitedly, and then went to take up her position. Her nerves had totally gone now, and she was just looking forward to the game, eager to get going.
Quarter of an hour later, the match was properly under way, and both teams were playing well. Annabel and Becky and the others were watching with their hearts in their mouths – the girls simply had to win this! At the moment it just wasn’t clear which team had the edge. The boys seemed to be a bit faster, but lost out on accuracy, while the girls’ passing was excellent, and they tended to keep possession once they’d got the ball.
But suddenly, everything changed. David managed to do a bit of clever doubling-back that completely wrong-footed Cara, and he was off, whooshing up the field, panicking the defenders, passing to one of the Year Eight boys when Katie tackled him, getting the ball back perfectly – and scoring. The supporters on the boys’ side of the field went mad, and all the girls’ team could hear was “Losers, losers!” in a massive chorus. All the boys were smirking, and Cara looked like she might cry, especially as a couple of the Year Eights were giving her dirty looks like it was all her fault. They weren’t exactly looking friendly towards Megan either.
Katie wasn’t able to do much more for Megan than grin sympathetically at her, but just for a moment, she forgot that she couldn’t stand Cara, and really felt for her – she could imagine just how she was feeling. She dashed over and gave her a quick hug round the shoulders, a bit awkwardly – hugging one of your worst enemies did feel a bit weird. “That was really bad luck. Come on, it doesn’t matter, let’s get them back.”
Cara looked grateful, and muttered, “OK.”
The game restarted with the girls extra-determined, desperate to catch up. We’re only one-nil down, Katie kept telling herself, that’s nothing. But it seemed an awful lot when every time she looked at one of the boys he was grinning his face off. The boys seemed to have been galvanized by David’s goal, and the rest of the first half was very much theirs; the ball stayed up their end with the girls’ defenders working manically, and Megan grimly scanning the field while she moved from foot to foot, keeping ready for another shot at goal. All the girls’ team were grateful when the half-time whistle went. The game was not going well, and they needed some time to regroup. They trudged off the field, trying not to let their heads hang, while their supporters made an effort to cheer encouragingly.
Back in the changing room, Sarah was trying to cheer everyone up, especially Megan and Cara. “Look, we’re only one goal down – we can’t give up now, there’s the whole second half. We’ve got to go out and get them! Come on, we can’t let them win.”
Katie was sitting next to Megan, trying not to let her dwell on her missed save. “It was just one of those things – don’t let it get to you, honestly.”
Megan grimaced. “I know that really, but I’m still furious with myself.” She sighed.
“OK, girls, you need to get up and move around,” Mrs Ross warned. “If you stay flumped like that and then leap up and go into the second half your muscles will seize up. Come on, gentle stretches!”
Everyone moaned, but they knew Mrs Ross was right. Katie started off with her favourite exercise, actually one that Annabel had taught her from dancing – you let your fingertips brush the ground, and then uncurled your spine really slowly so that eventually you were standing up. It was one of the nicest ways to warm up or cool down she knew.
The girls marched grimly out on to the field at the end of half-time – there was no way they were going to let the boys get away with this. They went on to the attack the moment the whistle blew, fighting tooth and nail for the ball, and not giving the boys a chance to get themselves going. Looking at the way the boys seemed to be totally gobsmacked by this suddenly fierce team, Katie reckoned they’d probably spent most of half-time kidding around and sneering at the girls, convinced they were going to grind them into the dust in the second half with no trouble at all, and they’d completely lost their focus.
It still took a good ten minutes of tussling with the boys’ strong defence to get anywhere, though. Katie, Sarah and Cara felt like they’d been running backwards and forwards for hours by the time the first decent chance came up, and the tension wasn’t just on the field. Becky and Annabel were sure they could sense the waves of frustration radiating from Katie, and they were practically biting their nails (well, Becky was, Annabel wouldn’t do anything to damage hers, but she did feel like biting them).
The boys’ supporters were equally stressed, almost more so because they’d all seemed convinced this would be such an easy win, and now the girls were creating all the decent plays, leaving the boys just firefighting.
Suddenly the ball was free, and Cara was unmarked. She came storming down the field, hotly pursued by Max and a couple of Year Eight boys. Katie dashed forward to intercept – she could see Cara was running out of energy. Cara passed her the ball, the boys made the classic mistake and switched their attention to Katie, leaving Cara free to catch her breath and get into position. The girls had practised this in the park, and it was going perfectly. Katie and Cara ran in parallel, Katie passed the ball neatly round the boys – and Cara was free to score!
> The girls went mad, on and off the field, yelping with delight, hugging each other, everyone piling on Cara, who was practically buried under the rest of the team telling her how brilliant she was – and then they started on Katie.
It took the ref, one of the other PE teachers, Mr Siva, to get them back in the game. “OK, everybody, that’s enough for now. Still quarter of an hour to go.”
The girls were really excited now, and playing almost like one person. But now the boys were desperate to regain their lead – it seemed to be a stalemate. Neither side would give an inch. Everyone was trying to create decisive plays that would break out of what felt like a deadlock, but they were going nowhere.
Until Max decided to take matters into his own hands.
He knew deep down that he hadn’t played particularly well so far – in fact Mr Anderson had told him at half-time that he needed to be making a lot more effort – and he was blaming it all on Katie. They’d been fighting for the last two weeks (well, for the whole term, but particularly since this match had been dreamt up) and he was desperate to get even after all the things she’d said. He was also desperate to win.
He headed down the pitch. Perfect Little Miss Ryan had the ball – good. Katie saw Max approaching, and tensed up. He was heading for her like a charging bull, and there was something very ugly in his face, something that made her feel scared, despite the fact that it was only stupid Max, whom she’d been teasing all term. Suddenly Katie began to realize that Becky might have been right when she said it wasn’t a good idea… But there was no time to do anything, he was coming up on her so fast.
Becky gripped Annabel’s sleeve. “Look at him! Oh no – he’s going to do something awful, I can tell!”
Annabel stared in horror – there was nothing they could do – except then she had a sudden brainwave. If Max was going to foul Katie, there was one way she could help. She was still holding the phone, and it did video too. Whatever Max was playing at, she was going to catch him at it.
Max was on a mission. It was simple, a sliding tackle, a crucial “misjudgement” of the distance, skid and – yes! She was down. Max was at least bright enough not to make too big a deal of his remorse, as he knew no one would swallow it. He concentrated on injured innocence instead.
Katie was just injured. She’d seen the vicious triumph in Max’s eyes as he ploughed into her instead of the ball, and she knew that this was revenge, plain and simple. Sitting on the ground, clutching her right leg, she couldn’t stop the tears coming, much as she hated to give Max the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Becky and Annabel, not even stopping to think if it was OK, dashed on to the field, and threw themselves down beside her, just as Mrs Ross stormed up, looking furious.
“Katie! Are you all right?”
“Of course she’s not!” burst out Annabel angrily, not caring that she was talking to a teacher. “Look at her, it’s her leg. Mrs Ross, do something!”
Katie was curled over, cradling her right leg, leaning on Becky, who was holding her. She could feel this wasn’t just a bruise. She knew she wouldn’t be able to get up and finish off the match. Her leg really hurt, as though she’d torn a muscle. And then suddenly the realization hit her. Max hadn’t just put her out of this match. If her leg was really as bad as it felt, then his moment of vindictive anger had just destroyed Katie’s chances of being in tomorrow’s match too. The league final – the match that she had been working for, and looking forward to, the match that she’d been so disappointed that Dad would miss. Well, now it was OK that he was in Egypt – because it looked like she wasn’t going to be at the final either.
Chapter Ten
Mr Siva, the referee, was having a massive go at Max. He seemed to have seen exactly what had happened, and was totally refusing to believe Max’s protests that it had all been an accident. “Nonsense! You went straight for her, it was totally obvious.”
Mr Anderson was equally furious. “What on earth made you do something so stupid? Well, you needn’t think you’re going to get away with it. You’re banned from at least the next two matches, and then we’ll see how your attitude improves. I take it you’re sending him off?” he asked Mr Siva, who nodded grimly. “Right, go and get changed. I’ll finish talking to you later.”
Max slunk off the field, leaving the little party still grouped round Katie. Mrs Ross had been examining her leg, and now, helped by Becky and Annabel, she got Katie to stand up. It wasn’t easy. Katie couldn’t put any weight on her right leg at all, and Mrs Ross, who had just as much time and effort invested in the next day’s final as Katie and the rest of the team, was looking concerned.
The rest of the players seemed shocked – even the other boys on Max’s team looked as though they thought he had gone too far – although Becky, looking round at them angrily, decided that if Max had got away with it they might not have minded. David caught her eye and looked really apologetic, but she glared at him, and he didn’t say anything. The girls were gathering round now that Katie was up and moving, asking quiet, worried questions.
“Katie, what happened?”
“It looked like he went for you on purpose!”
“Are you going to be OK?”
Katie did her best to smile, but she wasn’t really up to answering.
Mrs Ross, still looking upset and angry, started to lead her off the pitch, murmuring comfortingly, “Don’t worry, Katie, we’ll go and call your mum. I think it might be worth you going to the hospital to get your leg checked over.”
Katie suddenly seemed to wake up. “I can’t go! Mrs Ross, no! There’s only a bit of the game left, and we’re going to get a penalty – aren’t we?” She turned to Mr Siva, who was hovering at her elbow – he couldn’t restart the game until she was off the pitch and her sub was organized.
Mr Siva was still looking grim. “Oh, yes…”
“I’ve got to stay” – Katie looked round at the rest of the girls – “come on, we can’t let them get away with that!” Then she seemed to droop slightly – the burst of indignant energy had gone, and she was back to thinking about her leg, and missing the final.
Sarah gave her a determined nod. “Don’t worry, Katie – they’re so going to regret it, Mrs Ross, who’s coming on? Lizzie?”
Mrs Ross looked at Katie, and must have sensed something of her determination, because she gave in. “OK. Becky and Annabel, take Katie over to the side – Mr Brownfield will lend you his camp stool for her to sit on, and ask him if he’ll go and phone your mum – she needs to know, Katie! I’m not saying you have to go yet.” Then she waved at Lizzie, who’d been hovering with Michelle and Caroline on the edge of the field, looking hopeful.
Lizzie pulled off her fleece and dashed on to the pitch, stopping to pat Katie’s shoulder and whisper, “That was so unfair!”
Finally the game got under way again, with a penalty awarded to the girls. The boys were now down to ten players, and Max’s vicious trick seemed to have had almost as bad an effect on them as it had on Katie. They were playing with even less concentration than before, making stupid mistakes, and although the penalty was a near miss that had Sarah stomping back to the middle of the field quite obviously cursing herself, it didn’t take long for the girls to break through and get back into the lead with a brilliant goal from Sarah. Katie bounced on her camp stool with excitement, and then yelped, making Annabel and Becky look at her anxiously.
“It’s OK, I forgot, that’s all – I shouldn’t have moved.”
Two minutes later the final whistle went, and the boys trudged off the field in disgust, while the girls danced about collecting hugs, and dashing over to fuss around Katie. It was just after that that Mr Brownfield escorted the triplets’ mum over to them, looking frazzled. She’d hurried to the school to make sure Katie was OK.
“Katie! What did you do? Oh, sweetie, are you all right?”
“Mu-um! Ssssh!” Katie looked embarra
ssed.
Mrs Ross hurried over from where she’d been congratulating Sarah. “Mrs Ryan? I’m so sorry about this – I do think it would be good for Katie to get her leg checked out. Hopefully it’s just a muscle strain, but you can’t be too careful with this kind of thing.”
The triplets had to endure a dreary wait in A&E, with Mum fussing and getting on Katie’s nerves. When finally Katie was seen by a doctor, Becky and Annabel had to stay sitting in the waiting room, wandering up and down and buying cups of disgusting coffee from the vending machine.
“Honestly, the people here are already ill!” coughed Annabel, spitting the brown coffee-ish liquid back into the cup. “This stuff is just unfair.”
“They’re taking ages,” worried Becky. “Do you think something’s really wrong?”
Just then Katie and Mum came out again, Katie with her leg strapped up and hobbling on crutches.
“Is it broken?” asked Annabel in horror.
“No, but it might as well be,” said Katie dolefully. “They think I’ve torn a muscle, and it’s going to take weeks to get better.”
“Oh, Katie, for heaven’s sake!” exploded Mum. Being summoned to school by the headteacher and then faced with all three of her daughters behaving as though the end of the world had come and only they had noticed wasn’t having a very good effect on her. Mr Brownfield had sounded so dismayed that Mum had found it hard to believe that Katie hadn’t been really badly hurt. As far as she could see, a simple torn muscle was almost the best possible outcome. “I know you’re disappointed, but really it’s not that bad. You’ll be as good as new in a couple of weeks.”
“A couple of weeks?” Katie sounded as though she couldn’t believe her ears. “Mum, don’t you get it? The final is tomorrow. A couple of weeks might as well be next year for all the use it is.”
It was no good. Katie gave up, and pigeonholed her mother as completely and utterly stupid, or just uncaring. The way she felt, her mother ought to have been screaming and tearing out her hair – that might have made her feel as though the disaster was being taken seriously. At least Becky and Annabel were showing the proper attitude – absolute dismay.