Calum's New Team

by Danny Scott

  Learning from Jordan’s mistake, Calum took a short run-up and struck the ball hard and high. It sailed over the diving Ravi and made a satisfying crack as it struck the net. 4–4!

  The rain had washed Jordan’s hair gel into his eyes. They’d gone bright red.

  “This ends now!” he shouted angrily before slamming the ball onto the penalty spot.

  Calum was sure he heard Jordan hiss, “Dive right!” to Ravi in goals. Ravi’s quiff wobbled backwards and forwards, giving away the fact that he was nodding.

  Jordan turned and took only three steps back this time. He waited for the whistle in his head to blow before running up and placing the ball to his right.

  Unfortunately for him, Ravi dived to Jordan’s right, not his own. Jordan’s weak shot hit the keeper’s stomach and rolled back out. Ravi obviously didn’t know whose right he was meant to dive to.

  “Ravi! Don’t you know your right from your le—” Jordan hissed, but he stopped as Calum walked past to get the ball. “You’d better save this one, Ravs!”

  Ravi just shrugged and smoothed his hair back with one glove.

  This was it. Calum’s big chance. He could win Jordan’s amazing astro boots. All he needed to do was score one more penalty.

  Calum decided to play it safe. He planned to just thump the ball straight down the middle.

  He ran up, planted his left foot next to the penalty spot and swung through the football with his right. He felt his left foot slip, and his stomach flip, as his whole body followed the ball into the air.

  Calum hit the ground and heard the ball clunk off the crossbar.

  No! No, no, no, he thought, lying flat on his back with rain falling on his face. But then he heard Leo shouting something…

  “Yes! Yes! You’ve done it!” Leo ran over to help Calum up.

  Calum looked at the goal, and saw the orange ball resting in the back of the net. It must have hit the underside of the crossbar and gone in!

  “So you’re lucky as well as clumsy,” Jordan said as Calum stood up.

  “Well that last one was lucky,” Calum replied, smiling.

  “Whatever… Here you go.” One of Jordan’s friends ran over with his astros. Jordan tossed them at Calum’s feet. “I’ll get my mum to buy me another pair online.”

  Calum was just about to try Jordan’s boots on when Miss Frettle’s voice cut through the rain.

  “WHAT is going on here?!”

  7

  Grounded

  Calum’s mum and dad weren’t angry, they were ‘disappointed’, which was always worse. They couldn’t believe Calum had already got himself into trouble at his new school for ‘gambling’. He was grounded for a week. And he obviously didn’t get to keep Jordan’s boots.

  Calum accepted his punishment without saying anything about the trial or telling them that he needed new boots for it. He knew that it would just make things worse.

  Instead, he did everything he could to get back into his parents’ good books.

  He went to Mr Aziz’s shop to get groceries – and to moan about having no boots for the trial.

  He walked Leighton morning and night, tidied his room and set the table without having to be asked. But, despite all his hard work, he couldn’t stop thinking about missing the trial.

  The family’s computer was out of bounds when Calum was grounded, except for doing homework. Calum was supposed to be researching World War Two, but while his parents were busy cooking, he sneaked a look at the Scotland Stars F.C. website – the main site for schools’ teams in Scotland.

  A bold new headline hit him like a football to the face:

  All Calum had ever wanted to do was play football for a proper team. Professional scouts were known to watch school matches sometimes, especially if the team got a good match review on Scotland Stars F.C.

  Up north there hadn’t been enough kids around to make a team. Now Calum’s year was going to have one – and Calum would have to watch instead of play.

  He tried to make himself feel better by practising in the back garden.

  I’ll get so good, they won’t be able to leave me out when I get my boots, he thought as he reached fifty keepy-uppies – in his plimsolls!

  “See…” Calum’s dad appeared at the back door in his work shirt with a steaming cup of tea. “It’s amazing what you can do in plimsolls.”

  But Calum was concentrating too hard to reply. He’d never reached over one hundred. His dad shook his head and went back inside.

  Leighton stayed to watch. His head was bobbing up and down with every volley.

  “Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, ONE… HUNDRED, ONE… HUNDRED… AND… ONE!”

  The extra time it took to count the numbers over one hundred broke Calum’s concentration. He hit the ball too far in front of him. Off balance, he tried to recover but the ball flew off his plimsoll at an angle and sailed over the fence into the neighbour’s garden.

  Calum stood completely still. The last thing he needed was to get into more trouble.

  He was looking around for something to help him climb over when a girl’s head appeared above the fence.

  “Is this yours?” she asked, lifting Calum’s football into the air.

  “Uh… y-yes.”

  “Well… do you want it back?”

  “Er… yes please.”

  The girl threw the ball down to Calum. “Nice sneakers, by the way.”

  Calum sighed.

  The girl shrugged. “Sorry.”

  She had a big smile, reddish-brown hair and a strange accent. “You’re Calum Ferguson, right? The same Calum Ferguson who beat Jordan McPride in a penalty shoot-out? Oh… and who scored for Scotland against England in his backyard last week?”

  Calum was confused, then he blushed. He thought he’d heard someone laughing when he was playing football ‘for Scotland’ against Leighton in the garden the other day.

  “Er, yeah, that’s me. A real Scotland star.”

  “I’m Erika. Erika Brown.”

  Calum smiled and held his hand up in a half-hearted wave.

  Erika looked at Leighton, who was now lying down on the grass licking his paws.

  “Bet you can’t win a shoot-out against a proper goalkeeper?”

  “Do you know one?”

  Erika shook her head. “Me, dummy!”

  “Oh… right.”

  ***

  Calum and Erika took turns at taking penalties. He felt strange about shooting against a girl but soon learned that Erika could save almost anything he kicked at her.

  “Yeah, we moved here from the States last year,” Erika said, as she beat Calum easily with a low shot. “Pops is from Scotland but my mom is Californian – she coaches the girls’ soccer team at school.”

  Calum knew exactly who Erika’s ‘mom’ was. He’d already heard her speak at assembly to recruit players.

  “Are you going to play in the trial then?” Erika asked as Calum ran up to take his penalty.

  The floodlights went out in Calum’s brain, he lost concentration and skied the ball over the fence, back into Erika’s garden.

  “Lemme guess,” Erika smiled. “That’s a no.”

  8

  The Day of the Trial

  Calum woke up in a bad mood on Saturday morning – the day of the trial. Leighton started licking his face but Calum shoved him off.

  The wee dog trotted over to the corner of Calum’s room, sighed and put his head on his paws.

  Calum didn’t know what to do. He wanted to go and support Leo, but he didn’t want to watch the game.

  Calum’s mum appeared at his bedroom door carrying her laptop and wearing her big slippers. “Congratulations! Your grounding is over… What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Calum said, not wanting to bring up the trial and therefore his penalty shoot-out with Jordan again.

  “Well, it’s lovely out. Why don’t you stop tripping over your face and take Leighton for a walk? It might cheer you up.”

  ‘Walk’ was
enough for Leighton to get up and start wagging his tail.

  “All right, all right…” Calum said. Maybe catching up on the latest football news at Mr Aziz’s shop would cheer him up.

  ***

  “How’s Scotland’s future striker?” asked Mr Aziz, as Calum plodded through the door ready to moan about having no boots again.

  “Fine.” Calum sighed.

  “When’s the trial?” Mr Aziz asked.

  “Half an hour,” Calum said, looking up at the clock on the wall.

  “Well, you’d better hurry then,” Mr Aziz said with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Why? You know I can’t play in plimsolls.”

  “Ah… when I was your age, I never used to take my old plimsolls off,” Mr Aziz said as he reached below the counter and brought out an old plastic bag.

  What is it about grown-ups and plimsolls? Calum thought.

  “Why don’t you wear these?” Mr Aziz asked, pulling out a pair of tatty old football boots. “They were my son’s when he was your age. I forgot we had them. Would they fit you?”

  Calum looked at the boots. They were old, stiff and missing a stud on each foot, but they looked about the right size.

  “They look big enough… Are you sure I can borrow them?”

  “We’ve been clearing the attic this week. So, either you have them or my wife chucks them out.” Mr Aziz chuckled. “Plus, I’m tired of having you mope around my shop complaining about missing the trial.”

  Calum stood, looking at the boots as if they were top-of-the-range.

  “Shouldn’t you be getting a move on?” Mr Aziz asked with a raised eyebrow.

  Calum burst out of Mr Aziz’s shop and sped home to drop Leighton off and get changed. He blurted something about try-outs to his dad before sprinting back over to Caleytown Primary, gripping one old boot in each hand.

  9

  Jordan on Trial

  “You’re here!” Leo shouted as Calum bounded, out of breath, across the playground. He looked down at the old boots in Calum’s hand. “Where did you get those? Did you steal them from a museum?”

  “Very funny.” Calum shoved his friend lightly. “They’re better than nothing.”

  Jordan’s dad came over wearing a bright red tracksuit and a whistle round his neck. He looked at his clipboard.

  “And who are you?”

  “Calum Ferguson, sir.”

  “You’re not on the list, son.”

  “I know… I… erm… didn’t think I could come… but… I’m here now.”

  “Yes you are, but you’ll have to be a substitute. We’ve got two full teams already.”

  Mr McPride strode off, leaving Calum with his shoulders slumped.

  “I’ll come off if you’re a sub for too long,” Leo said, trying to cheer him up.

  “What are you doing here?” Jordan spat, appearing where his dad had just been.

  Even though it was still summer, Jordan was wearing the latest long-sleeved thermal vest under his strip. He also had something embroidered on his brand new boots.

  “J-A-M,” Leo read out. “Why do you have ‘jam’ written on your boots?”

  Jordan’s eyes went dark.

  “It’s not ‘jam’ you idiot, it’s my initials!” he hissed. “Jordan Andrew McPride!”

  “Whoops.” Leo winked. “My mistake.”

  Jordan snorted like a horse, and jogged off to boss some other players around.

  Leo turned to Calum and smirked, “Did you see if he had ‘toast’ written on his socks?”

  ***

  Leo did well on the wing. He managed to dribble past three players and into the box. Jordan and his dad were screaming for Leo to pass, but the goalkeeper hadn’t bothered to cover his near post and Leo slotted the ball home.

  Even though they were on the same team, Jordan was still upset.

  He had no right to be. In the match so far, Leo had set him up with three great chances. Jordan had missed the goal twice, and fallen over the ball the third time.

  When half-time arrived, Jordan stormed off to talk to his dad. Everyone else ate the slices of orange his mum had brought.

  “Don’t worry, Calum,” Leo said from behind his orange slice, “I’m sure you’ll get on in the second half. If not, I’ll pretend I’m injured.”

  “Thanks, but don’t. If Mr McPride suspects anything, you might lose your place,” Calum said.

  Just then, Jordan’s dad blew the whistle for the second half.

  ***

  Some of the players were slow to get started again. Apart from Leo.

  He got the ball on the wing and made Ryan, the other team’s right-back, look as if his shoelaces were tied together.

  In the middle, Jordan started screaming for the pass, again.

  “Pass the ball!” Jordan’s dad joined in.

  What could Leo do? Instead of going for a second goal, he squared the ball to Jordan.

  Jordan posed for the shot like he was on TV. He swung his right foot at the ball but kicked the ground instead, hard.

  “Ow, ow, ow! My toe!” Jordan squealed, hopping on one foot.

  “My baby!” Jordan’s mum screamed and ran on to the pitch with a first-aid kit.

  Jordan was blushing hard as she helped him hobble towards the sideline.

  Jordan’s dad seemed unimpressed. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and looked at his clipboard. “Ferguson, Calum, you’re on!”

  Calum didn’t need to be asked twice.

  “Let’s do this!” Leo grinned as Calum jogged past him.

  Mr Aziz’s son’s old boots creaked with each stride but Calum finally had a chance to show his schoolmates what he was made of.

  10

  Calum on Trial

  Calum couldn’t do a lot to begin with. Jordan’s friends didn’t want to pass him the ball.

  Leo had different ideas though. When he won a corner midway through the second half, he swung a fast, curling ball right towards Calum in the danger zone.

  Calum sprung into the air, ready to glance it in – but felt a bump in his back.

  Instead of meeting the ball, Calum tumbled under it and hit the ground.

  “Hey!” he shouted, although he couldn’t tell which one of Jordan’s crew had fouled him.

  “Nice dive!” Calum heard Jordan laugh from the sidelines. His mum was holding an ice pack on his toe.

  “Shake it off! You’ll get the next one,” Leo said, pulling Calum to his feet.

  But time was running out. He would have to do something quickly to impress the coach.

  ***

  Calum saw his chance sooner than he thought he would. He tussled for the ball in the middle of the park and won it. Immediately, he played a through ball for Leo to run on to, and sprinted up the pitch.

  All he could hear was the thud, thud, thud of his feet on the Astroturf.

  This is it, he thought.

  “Arrrr-RRR,” Leo shouted as he mis-hit his cross to Calum.

  There was only one thing for it. Calum took three massive steps forward and threw himself head first at the ball.

  At full stretch, Calum connected. It flew across the diving keeper and into the goal!

  Calum lay for a second on the warm Astroturf, smiling at the ball in the back of the net until an afro-shaped shadow appeared over him.

  “I didn’t know you could head the ball!” Leo grinned down at Calum with his arm outstretched.

  “I didn’t have much choice with a cross like that!” Calum laughed, grabbing Leo’s hand and pulling himself up. He couldn’t stop smiling.

  ***

  The sun was fierce, but Calum didn’t want the game to end. He wasn’t the only one; from the way his teammate Lewis was screaming for a pass, it was clear the red-haired midfielder wanted a goal to make him stand out too.

  “Only a couple of minutes left, lads,” Mr McPride shouted. His voice was hoarse and he was sweating.

  Calum laid the ball on a plate for Lewis but Janek blocked his effort to score.
The ball bounced straight back to Calum. He glanced up.

  The keeper was still scrambling to his feet, having flung himself to the ground for Lewis’s blocked shot.

  Calum knew immediately what to do. Rather than blast the ball, he gently chipped it high over the keeper’s head.

  The goalie stumbled back and flapped at Calum’s shot, but it was just out of his reach and began to dip, dip and dip…

  Calum jumped in the air as the ball fell under the crossbar and over the line.

  “Ya beauty! Great goal!” Lewis said, running over to congratulate him.

  “What a peach!” shouted Leo, leaping on Calum’s back.

  Even Janek, the central defender on the other team, bit his bottom lip and nodded.

  “That’ll do, lads!” Jordan’s dad panted. His whistle blow sounded like a balloon deflating.

  Calum felt like he was floating as he made his way to the water bottles with Leo.

  “Great game, Museum Boots!” Leo punched Calum’s arm.

  “Thanks! You too, Ballerina Feet!” Calum shoved him back.

  They both burst out laughing.

  “Well played, lads.” Coach McPride came up and patted both boys on the back. “Great goals, Calum.”

  Calum and Leo couldn’t keep the grins from their faces – especially when Jordan’s mum called out, “Watch your toe, Jordie!”

  11

  The Team

  On the way to school on Monday, it was so cloudy it was almost dark.

  Leo and Calum didn’t notice the weather, though. All they could talk about was the trial and who would get picked for Caleytown’s first match, a friendly against local rivals Muckleton. When Calum looked them up on Scotland Stars F.C., he found out Muckleton had only lost one game all of last year.