‘Okay, listen. You saw the panel that slid open. You know how that works. Good work, Bubba, for remembering the numbers.’
(Any more praise and Bubba’s head would explode.)
‘Well, I got in, and just as I was getting my bearings – bang! This lump of wood drops down on top of me.’
‘How do you know it was a trap?’ I asked.
‘Because I was able to set it back up. You obviously have to scramble through quickly, or deactivate something. I don’t know. But someone didn’t want me there.’
Luci added her bit. ‘Weird.’
‘Well, at least no one knows you’ve been in there, Brycey,’ said Bubba.
‘Hey, what about the phone call?’ I said.
‘Oh, I did that as I was scrambling in. Just to let you know I’d made it,’ Bryce said. ‘I guess you guys never got the message, eh?’
‘Nah, I just heard static. The sound of a knocked-out Bryce,’ I joked.
‘So, when are we going back in?’ Bubba asked.
‘We? Maybe two this time. I’m thinking Mitch and me.’
‘And I’m thinking I don’t like your thinking,’ Becky said. ‘How about Luci and I go? What do you think, Luci?’
Luci wasn’t looking so sure.
The bell went, and the decision was left hanging.
The soccer routine was pretty much like the footy one. Skills practice for all the kids – girls and boys – who were trying out for the Legend of Soccer. Then the traditional wait around the noticeboard for the teams to be announced for our first game against Ascot. For the soccer, each school was going to enter two teams, Green and Red. They were more like squads than A and B sides; equal in ability and a mixture of girls and boys. All the Green teams would be in one group, and all the Red ones in another. The overall winner would be the school that finished in the best position across both ladders. Mr Zucker and Miss Lan were the two soccer coaches. Mr Zucker would be taking the Green squad once they were worked out.
On Thursday night the weather turned foul and we ended up watching a soccer match instead of practising. I don’t think Mr Zucker was too pleased to be missing out on a training session, but Miss Lan seemed to be calling the shots. She was getting right into the Brazil versus France game, adding plenty of commentary.
At the end of the game, Miss Lan explained to everyone that the Legend of Soccer quiz could include stuff about the lead up to the 2018 World Cup, and especially Australia’s effort to try and be one of the final 32 teams.
‘Looks like there could be a couple of Internet sessions coming up,’ I suggested to Luci and Becky as we left the room.
‘Good idea, Mitchell, but it’s time you guys came round to my place. What about after school tomorrow?’ said Luci.
‘How about the weekend?’ I asked, remembering my appointment with Fisk tomorrow afternoon.
‘That would suit me better, too,’ added Becky.
‘I’ll ring, okay?’ Luci said.
I sat on my soccer ball and waited for Fisk. The sky had cleared, but a cold wind was blowing and I was hoping he wouldn’t turn up. I looked at my watch. Five minutes to four. This was definitely past the time we’d agreed on. Was this just another of Fisk’s stupid jokes? He’d seemed pretty serious about the soccer, but maybe he just wanted to make me sit out here and wait for no one. I decided to give him till four o’clock. Then I’d walk home.
At five past four I’d had enough. I slung my bag over my shoulder and started kicking the ball towards the toilet block. I noticed a couple of bikes leaning against the wall. ‘Travis!’ I called out. ‘Fisk!’
Two scruffy-looking kids in sleeveless shirts appeared from behind the building.
‘Sod off, loser or we’ll do the same to–’
‘Hey, that’s the kid who kicked that goal against us,’ the other boy snarled.
My stomach dropped. It was the Hoods player that I’d tackled near the end of the last footy game.
He had what looked like a fake tattoo and a small gold ring through one eyebrow. He spat out the gum he was chewing and moved towards me, slowly.
Fisk must have set me up.
‘Hey guys, how about a kick?’ I offered, lamely.
‘Hey, twit-head, how about we kick your lights out instead,’ said the kid with the tatt in a fake sing-song voice.
They grabbed me by the arms and dragged me into the toilets. Fisk was lying on the floor, two more kids standing over him, their arms folded.
‘Hey boys, look, we got some company,’ the tattooed kid yelled, shoving me hard against a wall.
‘Let him go, Leech, he didn’t do nothing,’ said my new hero, a tall kid standing over Fisk. They all looked at me.
I glanced down at Fisk. He was about to get smashed.
‘C’mon, Totem, he was the kid who beat us last week, remember?’
‘Yeah, he kicked that mongrel goal after the siren, didn’t he?’
It wasn’t looking good.
‘Four-on-two. Half-pitch. Five minutes attacking for each side.’ I stumbled over my words. ‘If we win, we walk away. If you win–’
‘What are you talking about, loser?’ Leech sneered.
I was desperate. ‘Soccer. A game. Now!’
No one spoke. Everyone was looking at the kid called Totem, obviously the leader.
Slowly, he started to smile. ‘Fun! Let’s do it!’
‘Hey, no goalies, okay?’ I said.
‘Shut your face, twerp. No more rules.’
Fisk hadn’t said a word all the time he was lying on the floor. Now he found his voice.
‘What did you do that for, you idiot?’ he hissed at me. ‘I was just starting to work them around.’
I looked at him and shook my head. ‘Bull,’ I said.
They tossed me the ball and yelled, ‘Go!’
It looked like we were attacking first. I passed the ball to Fisk and for a moment he looked defeated.
‘C’mon, Fisk,’ I shouted. ‘Let’s do this.’ He looked over at me, grimaced, then nodded.
He raced forward, dribbling the ball with ease. I set off at an angle, trying to make a line for him to thread the ball through. But instead of passing, he ran around one of the Hoods and belted a looping left cross towards the far post. I trapped it neatly, dummied a shot, dodged Leech (the kid with the tattoo) and blasted the ball at the far side of the net. Fisk had rushed across and was there to tap the ball in for the easiest of goals.
We pressed in again and again, but the Hoods players had been sparked into action and were tackling and hassling us big time. After five minutes, all we had was that single goal to our name.
Now it was our turn to defend. We managed to keep them out for the first three minutes, but playing against four was impossible. Soon enough, we were caught out three-on-one, me being the one, and they scored easily. Then they did it again.
‘You want to play out the last minute?’ Totem called out. ‘Before we smash you properly!’
Fisk and I were standing doubled over, hands on knees, sucking in the air hard. Fisk nodded. ‘Get ready,’ he hissed at me.
‘What’s the point?’ I asked.
‘Run!’ Fisk screamed.
I started running, but suddenly realised that Fisk had done a complete 180 and was running in the opposite direction. I screeched to a halt, turned, and did likewise. The Hoods were screaming and cursing. I stooped down at the touchline and grabbed my bag. I never caught up with Fisk, nor, I assumed, did the Hoods.
I flung open the front door, bolted inside and slammed it shut. Then I locked it.
I looked out the living room window. Of course, there was no one in the street. It was only then that I realised I’d given up a brand-new soccer ball, a gift from my grandpa.
I felt dejected and alone as I walked into the kitchen. No one was there. I grabbed an apple and a drink and waited for Luci to ring. I needed some good news. Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait long. She listened patiently as I relayed the afternoon’s events, then
we made plans for the weekend catch-up. I felt better when I finally put the phone down.
The squads were displayed after training the following Tuesday. There were some great soccer players in both. They looked even as far as I could tell.
Fisk and Paisley were playing with me in Sandhurst Green. They were both strong and skilful for their size. Shane and Alex, also in the Green squad, had great technique, but so did Chaz and Franko, in Red, along with Mazis and Bubbaman. Franko was the player who had most people talking. He’d played okay in the football matches but rumours were flying about how good a soccer player he was, and how he’d already been approached by a couple of talent scouts. He was definitely going to be the one to watch, though that would be tricky now that we were in different squads. Luci and Mia were in Red, too. Along with Becky, in Green, they were the three standout girls at sport. Only seven girls had tried out for the teams.
Our first game was played at home on Thursday, against Ascot. Miss Lan had convinced Mrs Waite, the principal, that we would get the best chance of school support if we played during school hours, so we lined up for a two o’clock start.
But Ascot College were not to be outdone. They came across the ovals in droves, class after class of kids and teachers, lined up and walking in pairs, all there to watch the matches. It was the most amazing atmosphere. I just couldn’t believe that two games of school soccer could generate such interest.
There were barbecues cooking and tents set up for selling cold drinks and pies, like at the football. There was even a stall for home-made cakes and baked goods.
The Sandhurst Reds played first against the Ascot Reds. Bubba played goalie. He pulled off some brilliant saves in the first half. He had a good clearing kick, too.
When he belted the ball all the way into our forward line late in the first half, Chaz and Franko pounced on it with a neat one-two and slotted it home for a goal. Miss Lan went crazy on the sideline.
The girls were getting their fair share of the ball, too. Mia had a shot at goal but just missed, and Luci was laying off some neat passes. We never got to see the second half, though. Mr Zucker called us to meet in the gym for a warm-up just as things were getting back under way, the score still one – nil.
We had a strong team, but I knew Ascot would be just as tough, judging by the talent on display during the Reds’ game.
We ran out onto the pitch to a huge welcome of cheers and support from the crowd, which in some places was three or four deep around the edge of the field.
‘Say, isn’t that your little friend?’ Fisk asked as we took our positions. I looked to where he was pointing.
‘Jack!’ I yelled, racing over the half line to see him.
Jack smiled sheepishly as we high-fived. I had a thousand questions to ask him, but the game was about to start.
‘It’s tennis all over again,’ I said, grinning. ‘Hey, can we catch up after the game?’
But Jack wasn’t looking quite as happy. ‘Um, maybe, I’ll probably have to go pretty quickly,’ he said.
‘Yeah, well, good luck.’
I jogged back to our half and waited for the whistle to blow.
I have to confess, seeing Jack in an Ascot College soccer shirt freaked me out a bit. I glanced in his direction again, but he was talking to the kid beside him. It looked like he was playing as an outside forward. We’d have to watch his speed. His running down the wing could be a big worry, and I knew he’d have good ball skills.
The game started at a fast pace. Fisk was our keeper for the first half, and both he and the Ascot goalie pulled off two brilliant saves each in the first twenty minutes. But a few minutes out from half-time, Paisley, playing central defender, let go a really clumsy tackle on an Ascot forward in the box. The whistle blew and the referee pointed to the spot.
We moved out of the penalty area as Jack came up to take the shot. Fisk was clapping and shouting, trying to psych Jack out of it.
I went through a moment of total confusion, wondering if I cared whether Jack scored the goal or not. I couldn’t believe this was happening. But when I looked at our shirts and then at the blue and green of the Ascot shirts, I knew which side I was really on.
‘Watch his hips!’ I yelled out to Fisk. Fisk caught my eye, and for a moment he looked grateful for the advice.
There was a hush over the crowd as the referee blew the whistle for Jack to take his kick. Then suddenly everyone was screaming as he jogged in, body turned slightly to give him some angle.
He hit the ball sweetly, away and high to the right. Fisk had dived the other way. It turned out to be the simplest of goals and Fisk had been made to look stupid. He had gone way too early. The ball hit the back of the net on the full, to groans and sighs from the Sandhurst fans. Green-and-blue scarves were waving everywhere.
‘What did ya tell me that for, Grady? You idiot! Watch his hips, what a load of bull!’
‘Well, did you?’ I asked.
‘What?’
‘Watch his hips.’
‘Of course I didn’t. When would I ever take advice from you? It was just fifty-fifty bad luck. I went the wrong way. And I suppose you were glad he scored?’
‘No, I wasn’t. That’s why I told you to watch his hips.’
I walked away. Conversations with Fisk never left me feeling good.
No one scored in the second half. Shane played in goal and also pulled out some big saves. But Ascot Green was fast, skilful, and very determined to win the soccer trophy, having lost the football this year.
Mr Zucker was disappointed, you could tell, but he tried not to show it. Legends games mean a lot to the teachers as well.
Wanting to get hold of Jack, I hung around the Ascot people after the game, but I couldn’t see him. Maybe he did have to shoot away quickly. I was a bit upset, though. I couldn’t believe that I meant nothing to him, just because he’d switched schools. Or was there another reason?
Luci and Bubba, watching from the sidelines, were as amazed as I was to see Jack running around for Ascot College. Luckily, Bubba had managed to ask another kid from Ascot if they had school email addresses there. He had the details locked away in his memory somewhere.
‘Well, how did your game end up, anyway?’ I asked them both.
‘Thought you’d never ask,’ said Bubba, grinning from ear to ear.
‘You scored, big man?’
‘Scored twice in the second half,’ he said holding up two fingers.
‘Tell all, Twinkle Toes!’
Luci rolled her eyes. ‘Well, I saw it all, so I’ll catch you guys tomorrow, okay?’
Luci strolled off to find her mum. Bubba and I followed our noses to the barbecues.
Mr Zucker and Miss Lan were quick with their Legends noticeboard work. By recess the following day they had put up results and ladders for the first round of games. Bubba was the stand out with a score of nine. Franko, Fisk, Becky and I each scored eight. Luci had got a seven. The Hoods game would be the big one, just like in footy – although Scornly had kicked four goals against them.
Maybe Scornly had some good soccer players, too. I moved up for a closer look.
SOCCER LADDERS
Green
Sandhurst
0
lost to
Ascot
1
Wetherhood
6
defeated
Scornly
4
Red
Sandhurst
3
defeated
Ascot
1
Wetherhood
2
drew with
Scornly
2
SOCCER LADDERS
Green
P
W
L
D
For
Ag
GD
Pts
Wetherhood
1
1
-
-
6
4
+2
3
Ascot
1
1
-
-
1
0
+1
3
Sandhurst
1
-
1
-
0
1
-1
0
Scornly
1
-
1
-
4
6
-2
0
Red
P
W
L
D
For
Ag
GD
Pts
Sandhurst
1
1
-
-
3
1
+2
3
Wetherhood
1
-
-
1
2
2
+0
1
Scornly
1
-
-
1
2
2
+0
1
Ascot
1
-
1
-
1
3
-2
0
We all met up in the library at lunchtime. It seemed to be the centre of our world for the moment, although Bubba would have argued for the soccer pitch after his goal-scoring feats of the day before. But he seemed happy enough to be there, in any case. He had one of those cool little mini soccer balls that he wasn’t letting go of.
Bryce listened intently to our stories from yesterday. He was as amazed as we were about Jack coming back to school. Well, coming back playing for Ascot. But at least we’d made contact.
‘Okay, so let’s email him, then,’ Bryce suggested.
I explained how I felt that Jack hadn’t seemed totally thrilled to see me, hoping that Bryce would explain why. He did.
Over the Wall Page 2