Boot It

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Boot It Page 4

by Adrian Beck

‘A real toss up,’ said Charlotte. ‘Hang on. Wow! That’s given me a brilliant idea.’

  CJ winked. ‘You’re welcome!’

  ‘You stink!’

  ‘Hey!’

  ‘Like parmesan on poop, or something. But let’s use that!’ said Charlotte, clapping her hands together. ‘Take one of your socks off and let Garlic have a good sniff. He might be able to track down your mum’s boots.’

  ‘Aw, yeah! Sweet!’ said CJ, yanking off his sock and waving it in the air like it was some sort of dog treat.

  ‘Not so close to me,’ said Charlotte, holding her nose and shoving CJ away.

  Garlic wagged his tail. He had the sock’s scent and he was off.

  CJ and Charlotte sprinted after Garlic, straight through the school gates and up the street. With CJ dribbling a football at his feet, they weaved through parked bikes, wheelie bins and adults drinking their chai lattes outside the café that CJ had recently been banned from. CJ felt like Aaron Mooy weaving through opposition defenders for the Socceroos.

  All of a sudden Garlic stopped. CJ too. Charlotte slammed into CJ. Garlic barked. They were on a street corner, standing in front of a post office box, just outside the donut store.

  ‘Has someone mailed the boots somewhere?’ wondered CJ, before getting down on one knee. ‘What is it, boy? Where are the boots?’

  Garlic twitched his nose and he was off again. CJ kicked the football to Charlotte and this time she dribbled as they veered into the park, straight through a group of people presenting a giant chocolate birthday cake to a chubby five-year-old boy. CJ tried to half apologise by singing along to ‘Happy Birthday’, but couldn’t help busting out the ‘you look like a monkey’ version and grabbing a stack of fairy bread as he sprinted through.

  ‘Sorry about him, it’s a FOOTBALL EMERGENCY!’ called Charlotte, as she hurried after CJ.

  They jumped a narrow creek – Charlotte used some superb foot-juggling skills – and ended up ducking through an empty block that led to one of Jindaberg’s back streets. Dump trucks filled with stone drove up and down the street and grit hung in the air.

  Garlic came to another abrupt stop at the local tip, opposite the entrance to the quarry. Charlotte fanned her nose to fight off the smell of rubbish.

  CJ watched Garlic scratch himself behind the ear.

  ‘I’m not seeing your boots,’ said Charlotte. ‘All this tells us is that your feet smell like the local tip.’

  CJ scanned the grassy footpath, then peered through the tip fence. Even he found the smell unpleasant.

  Garlic just kept scratching himself. If he was ever actually following the scent in the first place, he seemed to have COMPLETELY lost it now.

  ‘Keep it up, wonderdog,’ said CJ with a sigh. He’d thought Charlotte might’ve been onto something with this idea.

  Charlotte shrugged, then checked her watch. ‘Sorry, CJ. I’ve got to get going.’

  ‘Yeah, fair enough.’

  Charlotte started walking, but then she stopped. She looked down at the grass, then crouched. CJ ran over. It wasn’t his stolen boots, but it was a shoelace. A fluoro pink shoelace, with yellow specks. It had to be from his mum’s boots.

  CJ’s eyes darted around the ground. There was nothing else. Just grass and dirt.

  As Garlic rolled around in mud, CJ ran the shoelace through his fingers. Did it mean anything that it had been found near the tip? In a way, letting his mum’s boots get stolen was even worse than losing his magic boots in the first place. Perhaps he’d never find either of them.

  It may have been a stupid superstition, but it worked. CJ was terrified that without his magic boots he might not kick a goal ever again. If so, the Jets were in trouble. And CJ’s football career may as well be OVER.

  As Grade Five shuffled into class on Thursday morning, CJ noticed that none of the Jets were talking to him, probably because of his weird behaviour at practice the night before. But lucky for him, most kids were distracted by the buzz in the air for the A-League match that night.

  ‘Dude! You pumped for the game tonight? It’s the Big Blue,’ said Benji, sitting down beside CJ as Highpants began another one of his boring lessons. ‘Lexi’s getting a group together. She’s got free tickets! We’ll be able to see Bobô in action!’

  ‘Much prefer to see Barbarouses in action! Sweet, I’m in,’ said CJ.

  ‘Shhhh!’ whispered Charlotte, a few desks over, rolling her eyes at Benji.

  Benji blew her a raspberry. ‘She needs to get over herself.’

  ‘Nah, she’s cool,’ said CJ, thinking about how helpful Charlotte had been in trying to track down his stolen boots.

  But Benji wasn’t listening. He handed CJ a note:

  TOP FIVE REASONS CHARLOTTE NEEDS TO RELAX!

  1) Any more straining and she’ll give herself haemorrhoids. (Just ask my dad. But NEVER borrow his ointment.)

  2) Too much thinking can turn you into a zombie. (Not scientifically proven but something must be causing all the zombie outbreaks.)

  3) Getting stressed out will cause chickenpox. (Also not scientifically proven, but it’s not worth risking becoming a zombie with chickenpox.)

  4) If Charlotte pulls her ponytail any tighter her eyes will relocate to the top of her head.

  5) She’s becoming less popular than a zombiefied Highpants with chickenpox.

  CJ smiled. But he wasn’t exactly Mr Popularity with the team either.

  That night, Lexi’s mum accompanied CJ, Benji, Charlotte and Lexi to a bustling AAMI Park for the Melbourne Victory vs Sydney FC game. There were people EVERYWHERE. A sea of blue.

  As they hurried towards the stairs, CJ and his friends were greeted by a MASSIVE football. There were arms and legs sticking out of it, and also a head. The head belonged to Lexi’s dad, Mr Li. CJ had heard that Lexi’s dad had been crowned Mr New Zealand a few years ago, but those days seemed to be behind him. Tonight he was jumping around dressed as a giant football. This must have been how Lexi got the free tickets.

  ‘Classic! Your dad’s a mascot. Sort of,’ said Benji.

  ‘He is NOT!’ said Lexi, stomping her foot. ‘My dad is a professional actor slash model.’

  ‘Slash ball,’ said CJ.

  Then the music started: ‘Wrecking Ball’ by Miley Cyrus. It was a FLASH MOB! The Dancing Dads – a dance troupe made up of some fathers from school – appeared from all sides. They threw off their jackets and revealed sparkly gold tops. They all lined up behind Lexi’s dad in the ball. They were bopping along, doing strange moves with their necks and pelvic work that seemed most unnatural. Plus, whenever the song’s lyrics said ‘wrecking ball’ they all had to pretend Lexi’s dad was knocking them over. Like a trust exercise, the dads at the back had to catch everyone. They were having a BLAST. All grinning ear to ear. If only the crowd were enjoying it as much as they were.

  Lexi wasn’t filming. She just stared.

  ‘This is what you should get on camera.’ CJ giggled as he watched his dad’s belly pop in and out of his top. ‘Might help them see sense!’

  ‘For once, I’m glad my dad is always at work,’ said Charlotte.

  Benji grinned enthusiastically. He was loving it, copying all their moves.

  Then, just like that, the music stopped and The Dancing Dads put their jackets back on and merged into the crowd.

  All except Mr Li.

  ‘Can we never speak of this again?’ asked Lexi. Then she weaved through the crowd, over to her dad. He ducked out of his costume for a drink.

  CJ took the opportunity to run and dive inside the big ball. He began rolling towards the turnstiles, KNOCKING PEOPLE OVER like tenpins as he went. He jumped out of the ball at the gate. ‘Come on guys, now we can beat the queue!’

  With Mrs Alessi trailing behind them, the kids took their seats in the North End. NOTHING compared to the atmosphere here. Although, Benji was starting to regret wearing his Sydney FC scarf.

  As the teams took to the pitch the chants began, Melbourne Boys Are Still N
umber One!

  ‘Come on, Bobô,’ whispered Benji to himself. ‘Remind everyone why Melbourne Victory are much more like Number Two!’

  ‘Hey!’ said CJ.

  ‘Classic,’ sniggered Benji.

  Lexi filmed the roaring crowd with her iPad. Next to her, Charlotte took her knitting out, working on some mittens for baby Sofia as she settled in to watch the game.

  The ref blew the whistle and Leroy George took the kick-off. He nudged it to the right wing. Straight to KOSTA BARBAROUSES! Within seconds, Kosta was closing in on the penalty box.

  Charlotte dropped her knitting. Benji dropped his scarf. Lexi dropped her iPad. And CJ DROPPED HIS GUTS. (He’d been holding one in for ages.)

  ‘See that? Kosta’s super speedy!’ said CJ. ‘And it’s like he has a sixth sense for booting goals. Pure instinct!’

  ‘You know Kosta’s originally from New Zealand like me, right,’ said Lexi with a proud hair flick.

  ‘Yeah, right. Sure he is,’ said CJ.

  ‘CJ, he’s like pavlova, Russell Crowe and Phar Lap!’ said Charlotte.

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ said CJ. ‘One hundred per cent Aussie.’

  Charlotte shook her head.

  On the field, Barbarouses flicked the ball to Besart Berisha, who outmanoeuvred his opponent, then crossed the ball back to Barbarouses. Without wasting a moment, Kosta THUMPED the ball low and hard into the corner of the goal.

  GOOOOOOAL!

  The crowd went wild. CJ went even wilder.

  Just like Barbarouses, CJ had always run on instinct too. Maybe that’s how he’d find his boots. INSTINCT. Go with his gut. And he needed to do it in time for the big match on Saturday.

  CJ did not find his boots in time for the big match on Saturday.

  And he was starting to think that instinct STINKS.

  When CJ and Benji arrived at school for the game, the place was swarming with people prepping for the fete, so the boys didn’t exactly hurry up to the pitch. This was partly because both of them were feeling nervous about the game, and partly because Miss Harmon was making DELICIOUS TOFFEE APPLES to sell at her stall and the boys were hoping she might offer them a taste. After all, the best thing about toffee apples is that you can tell your parents – without a word of a lie – that you ate some fruit!

  ‘You’re meant to be on the pitch,’ said Charlotte, arriving behind them carrying a huge container of biscotti. CJ tried to sneak a sample but Charlotte KICKED HIM IN THE SHINS.

  ‘Careful. I’m the star striker.’

  ‘I sure hope so. We all need to step up today. Just gotta focus,’ said Charlotte, then she turned to Benji. ‘All of us.’

  Benji pulled the peak of his cap further down over his eyes.

  As CJ, Benji and Charlotte hit the football pitch, it was clear that this was no ordinary match. There were people everywhere; milling about, enjoying homemade treats, carrying balloons in Jindaberg’s green and gold school colours and gossiping over coffee. By the time the other Jets arrived for the warm-up, Charlotte had to ask a bunch of ladies to give them some space.

  As Charlotte performed her coin toss duties, CJ stared at his feet, willing them to do the right thing. He’d borrowed an old pair of Charlotte’s boots that didn’t look magical in the slightest. In fact they looked downright dull. But if they let him score, he didn’t care if they looked like the Queen’s fluffy royal slippers.

  On the sidelines, Highpants was in deep discussion with Principal Swift. With big hand gestures and very unnatural smiles, he seemed to be assuring her that the Jets would put on an impressive show for the crowd. Baldock was behind them, shaking his head at Highpants. All the while, Garlic was PEEING on Highpants’ big bag of toffee apples. TRAGEDY!

  Further on, CJ noticed The Dancing Dads in the crowd. They were performing later at the fete. Hopefully MUCH later. CJ’s dad gave his son a meaningful thumbs up. CJ gave a thumbs up back. Sometimes, CJ got the feeling his dad didn’t know what to say to him. But a lot can be said with a good solid THUMBS UP!

  Charlotte gathered the team for a final pep talk. ‘Jets, I know I’ve pushed you hard this week, but if we want to improve we need to get serious.’

  The Jets listened, but they were fidgety. CJ suspected Charlotte was hoping for some nods or sounds of agreement. There weren’t any, so CJ spoke up. ‘I’m going to give it a crack. I hope you all do too, okay? Put ’em in!’

  The Jets took a moment to react.

  ‘I said put ’em in!’

  They all reached their hands in and yelled, ‘Goooooo Jets!’

  CJ couldn’t ignore the fact the Jets weren’t responding all that well to their co-captains. As he jogged to his position he questioned Benji and Lexi, ‘What’s the story, guys?’

  ‘Apart from the fact Charlotte is Little Miss Serious?’ replied Benji.

  ‘Or that you keep randomly treating us like we’re the enemy?’ said Lexi.

  CJ laughed awkwardly. ‘Oh that … I’m sure we’ll all come together once the game gets underway.’ At least, he hoped so.

  The Rowthorn Redbacks took the kick-off. A short kid with lightning bolts shaved into his hair passed back to a determined freckly girl.

  ‘I’ll take her on!’ yelled CJ. But Antonio, Fahad and Saanvi ignored him. They ran for her themselves, but she got past each of them with her fancy footwork.

  Freckles sent the ball out wide to a chunky Redback wingman. CJ dropped back. The Redbacks were fast. REAL FAST.

  ‘Need you in defence, May,’ instructed CJ.

  But May IGNORED him.

  ‘Come on, guys,’ muttered CJ. ‘Teamwork!’

  The chunky kid booted the football into space. Freckles ran to it. She had it at her feet, sailing towards the Paulveriser in goals.

  ‘Lexi!’ cried CJ. ‘Hold your zone, don’t get drawn in!’

  But Lexi ran at Freckles.

  ‘No!’

  Freckles got around Lexi and was closing in.

  CJ was on the clubrooms’ wing. He heard Highpants singing from the boundary. Something with lyrics that sounded like ‘Stop, in the name of love!’

  The Paulveriser wore his crooked grin and bolted towards Freckles. He was like a bull, but less well-mannered.

  Freckles had to take her shot before it was too late.

  THUMP! SMACK!

  The ball BOUNCED off the Paulveriser’s big belly. Benji was able to mop it up.

  ‘Think, Benji! Focus!’ encouraged Charlotte.

  Benji screwed up his face, trying to take the advice on board. But all that thinking and focusing wasn’t working. Freckles used Benji’s moment of indecision to steal the ball. She nudged it to the very corner of the goals, Kosta-style. The Paulveriser dived, but the Redbacks scored. GOAL!

  The crowd clapped politely. The Redbacks jumped around hugging each other. Freckles mimed spiders with her fingers for her goal celebration.

  ‘Chin up, Benji,’ said CJ. After all, it was the WHOLE team’s fault. Specifically, CJ and Charlotte had KILLED the vibe. CJ was starting to wonder more and more if he was wrong to have suspected his teammates of stealing his boots.

  At the Jets’ kick-off, Charlotte began shouting out their set plays. ‘Peekaboo! Stinky nappy! Coochie-coochie-coo!’

  The Redbacks exchanged quizzical looks. CJ was starting to wish Charlotte didn’t name all her set plays after baby Sofia. He also didn’t remember what most of them were meant to mean. She settled on DUMMY SPIT.

  Charlotte sent the ball to a confused CJ. One thing he knew for sure was where the goals were. He tapped the ball forward and sped through two Redback defenders.

  CJ must’ve been just a BLUR to the crowd. Within seconds he was directly in front of the goals. He wound up his leg. Then he booted the football with EVERY OUNCE OF STRENGTH in his body.

  The crowd gasped at the sound of his boot SMACKING into the ball.

  The football TORPEDOED towards its target.

  ‘This is it! This is it!’ exclaimed Charlotte.

  But th
en CJ noticed the ball was curving upwards. He must’ve scooped it – got his foot underneath the ball too much.

  It sailed STRAIGHT OVER THE TOP of the crossbar.

  CJ fell to his knees. Charlotte came over. ‘There’ll be another chance.’

  ‘Even if there is, I know I’ll stuff it up,’ wailed CJ. ‘Unless I get my magic boots back.’

  ‘Face it, CJ. That may never happen.’

  ‘Don’t be so sure. I’ve come up with a foolproof plan for half-time.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘I’ve laid a trap that the culprit won’t be able to resist,’ said CJ, grinning. ‘If everything goes to plan, I’ll have my magic boots back before the end of the game. And then we might just stand a chance!’

  ‘You should be concentrating on the game, not another one of your crazy ideas,’ said Charlotte, as she jogged back into position alongside CJ.

  ‘It’s not as crazy as usual!’ said CJ. ‘Any minute now it’ll be half-time and I might just uncover the truth!’

  The Redback goalie kicked the ball back into play. It crossed halfway and a tall Redback got to it first. She ZOOMED closer to goals, sidestepping Saanvi, but she’d have to beat Benji for a clear shot.

  Someone yelled out Benji’s name from the crowd. He gave a little wave.

  ‘Focus, Benji!’ shouted Charlotte.

  Benji’s smile faded. He stared at the super tall Redback’s feet, but he faked a pass and Benji took a step to block it. This was all the Redback needed to steal a metre closer to goal and go for a shot.

  ‘Just relax,’ cried CJ. ‘You’ve got this, man!’

  Benji must have heard CJ because his expression changed. His grin was back, and so were his mascot moves. Wrong footed, he used his momentum to do a handstand, then KICKED HIS LEGS up into the air just as the tall Redback booted the ball. The ball hit Benji’s foot and bounced back into the Redback, then out of bounds near the clubrooms.

  ‘Hmmm,’ said Charlotte, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘Deserves a bit more than a hmmm,’ said CJ. ‘Go Benji!’

  Benji grinned as he flipped himself upright, then started weaving through the crowd to retrieve the ball.

 

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