by Pete Kalu
Everyone starts clapping.
Miss catches the ball in her hands. ‘That’s it girls, my hips can’t take any more. Do your best tomorrow. Do me proud.’
Miss lets us take an extra-long blast in the showers. We all walk off the school grounds, buzzing. Then me and Mikaela are at the bus stop together.
‘“Julie”? I always had her down as a Susannah or something,’ Mikaela says.
‘Me too!’
I catch Mikaela sighing. ‘How’s it going at home?’ I ask.
‘Dad’s put a lock on their bedroom door.’
‘What! He’s locked your mum in?’
‘No, out. Of their bedroom.’
‘So your mum’s back?’
Mikaela nods. ‘But it’s ridiculous now. One tells me something like, “ask your mother where’s the oven glove?” then I have to ask my mum, and take the answer back.’
‘At least they’re together.’
‘If that’s what you call it.’
I squeeze her hand. ‘Stay strong.’ I say. It’s what she always says to me.
She sniffs. ‘How’s your boyfriend?’
‘Marcus is OK.’
‘It’s not fair. You’ve got a boyfriend and a brother, I’ve got nobody!’
‘You’ve got me.’
Suddenly Mikaela’s squeezing me like she’s never going to let go.
When her bus comes, she gets on it and I wave to her. She hardly waves back, she’s so preoccupied.
Later, she texts me.
hws yr mum?
OK
Yr dad shwd up?
no
Sry
sok. nt yr folt
my parents doin counslin. i think theyl split agen. stil gna get dat mnth in Jmca tho. They owe me
Ded rite.
CHAPTER 32
THE CUP FINAL
It’s morning and it’s the Final. Mum’s had to go for an emergency dental appointment and can’t watch. Dad’s nowhere. There’s only one touchline that is not under a foot of water and that’s where all the spectators are gathered. Suddenly I spot MTB. I have to look again. He waves. There’s a bunch of classmates next to him in various disastrous outfits. (e.g. Winona in pink Hello Kitty ear muffs, red leggings and yellow jockey boots). Then parents and more parents. Among them I pick out Mikaela’s mum and dad, stood together stiffly under an umbrella as black as the clouds.
I weigh the opposition up. Worthington Academy are tall, focused athletes. We have titchy Report Card recruits in defence and a couple of Detention Room conscripts in midfield. It’s not looking good.
Worthington kick off. They boot the ball high up in the air then charge after it like a herd of stampeding buffalo. Our conscripts take fright. Me, Mikaela and a few others try to hold them up, flinging ourselves this way and that, but it’s useless. Mikaela throws herself onto the goal line twice to stop goals and gets coated in mud and line markings, but in the end we can’t keep the ball out. Worthington are soon hammering us.
At half time, Miss Fridge is furious. ‘What is wrong with you lot? You should be ashamed of yourselves!’ She flings her clipboard into the mud and stomps off to lean against a grass rolling machine with her head in her hands. I think she’s crying. We all look at each other, wondering what happens now.
MTB’s hovering. I edge over to him. ‘What should we do?’
My brother shrugs. ‘Don’t give up. Anything can happen.’
Miss walks back over to us and waves for us to come close. We gather round her again. ‘Go out there and do your best, girls. Remember your positions, keep your heads. Pass. Move. Tackle. Do me proud. OK?’
The referee blows for the second half to start. The rain begins hammering down and the ball sticks in the mud like it’s glued. Everyone’s slipping and sliding. I manage to score from a direct free kick but there’s no miraculous comeback and we lose 5–1. I trudge back to the changing rooms, dress, leave. My brother’s waiting. For once he doesn’t tease me. We get a taxi and ride in silence. He’s never been to a match of mine before. This is the first time. I wish he’d seen me win.
I break the silence. ‘Well?’
‘You played good, Sis.’
‘5-1?’
‘You played good though.’
Coming from MTB, this is high praise.
Mum calls down to us when we get home. She’s in bed. ‘How did it go?’ she asks when we enter her room. She’s got her back to us. I can’t see any bottles. The air smells OK.
‘We lost,’ I say flatly.
‘But she was brilliant,’ adds MTB, ‘she chased every ball, never gave up.’
Mum turns round. ‘She’s my daughter, of course she’s brilliant! Come here, darling.’
Mum gives me a hug. She’s got a big swelling on her left cheek and she smells of dental disinfectant. It’s nice hearing her praise me even if she wasn’t there.
‘Are you OK, Mum?’ I ask.
Mum sighs. ‘I need my phone, she says, ‘and a ... a ...’ She falls asleep.
CHAPTER 33
AN ENDING OF SORTS
I wish I could say everything turned out OK apart from the football. That me and Mikaela got on great like before. That my mum and dad got back together. That Mum never drank again and never danced bad disco moves again in front of my friends. But like I warned at the beginning, life sometimes doesn’t work out like that.
The day after we lost the Final, my dad phoned me:
‘Hi Adele, it’s me.’
‘Hi, Dad.’
‘How’s your mum?’
‘Why don’t you ring her and ask her yourself?’
‘I’m only asking.’
‘She’s OK.’
‘I’m sorry, Adele. For the whole mess.’
‘You mean abandoning us?’
‘I never abandoned you. I’m always here for you.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘...On the end of the phone. I’m a bit between places at the moment.’
I wonder where between places is. Under a railway arch? In a swanky hotel? In some other woman’s bed?
‘Mum’s fine actually, she’s having fun,’ I say.
‘I can see that from my credit card bill. Is there any shop she hasn’t visited in Manchester?’
It’s Dad’s attempt at a joke.
‘... I miss you, Adele.’
‘You should have thought of that when you left us, Dad.’
Mum calls me. I put the phone down.
I’m sure many kids have had this same conversation and will be reading this saying, “been there, got the T shirt”.
So this is the end. As a special treat since you reached it (The End! Yay!) below are two more school essays and a shortcut for French homework. Sorry I haven’t done my Patriarchy essay yet, you’ll have to wait for that one.
Martin Luther King and Civil Disobedience.
Martin Luther King was a great man. After Rosa Parks’s bus protest he led marches everywhere and was arrested and jailed for equal rights including civil disobedience. He did long speeches. In my view, civil disobedience is a bit iffy. Sometimes you have to do more than stop buses from running and lying down in the streets. Sometimes you have to fight, not lie down. Martin Luther King was shot. Officially a lone gunman did it but I believe it was a government conspiracy because he was too dangerous to the social order.
Teacher’s Comments:
4 out of 10.
Well done for your passionate arguments here, Adele. However, an essay must be longer than one paragraph and you go off the subject with your final sentence. Please show me your mind map before you write your next essay.
How To Make Apple Crumble
You need sugar, flour, cup of water, apples (like, obviously!). Mix everything except the apples together. Chop the apples up and put them in a baking dish. Then add the mixed up goop. Put it all in the oven on high and wait 30 minutes, watching it does not burn.
Alternatively you could get a life and buy one from the local supe
rmarket.
Teacher’s Comments:
Did you compare the home-made one with the shop bought one? Which tasted better? The proof of the pudding is in the eating, Adele!
French Homework: Learn 10 New Words
Le keeper – keeper
Le football – football
Le weekend – weekend
Le but – goal
Un come-back glorieux – glorious comeback
Jouer au foot – play football
La Coupe du monde – World Cup
Le ballon – the ball
Le meilleur buteur – top goal scorer
Le fin – the end
PETE KALU is a storyteller and author. He has published five novels for adults and has won prizes for both his theatre plays and his poetry, including the BBC’s Dangerous Comedy Award 2003. He is a PhD Creative Writing student at Lancaster University. He lives in Manchester.
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Professor X
Lick Shot
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‘I enjoyed reading the book from the beginning to the end. YA fiction for all ages’
Assia Shahin – blogger - http://assiashahin.blogspot.it
‘An amazing book and it would benefit people, whether they are hard of hearing or not.
Robert Murrell, age 13, profoundly deaf and wears hearing aids.
(Reviewed for the National Deaf Children Society)
‘Full to the brim with the joy, heartache and passion for the beautiful game.’
Carnegie Medal winner Melvin Burgess
‘A strong inspirational story about human aspiration.’
Commonwealth Writers’ Prize shortlisted Jacob Ross
‘Touching, funny and well tackled!’
Muli Amaye, novelist
‘A story that takes you through every emotion a young schoolboy goes through.’
Dotun Adebayo, BBC Radio 5
‘An excellent book! This read quite a lot like a Jacqueline Wilson book with Pakistani characters.’
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‘Mehmood gives us a sterotype-quashing, timely novel about religion, gender, and families. You're Not Proper sounds a resonant, authentic note that cuts through the monotone voices coming out of YA writing’
Dr Claire Chambers, Huffington Post
‘You’re Not Proper is a real insight into communities more often talked about than listened to.
Full of heart and a cracking good read as well. Highly recommended!’
Melvin Burgess
‘Contemporary and hard-hitting. High on impact and highly engaging’ Jake Hope,critic, librarian and coordinator of the Lancashire Children’s Book of the Year Award.
HopeRoad Publishing Ltd
P O Box 55544
Exhibition Road
London SW7 2DB
www.hoperoadpublishing.com
First Published by HopeRoad 2015
The right of Pete Kalu to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
Copyright © 2015 Pete Kalu
The characters, institutions and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real persons, institutions or actual happenings.
A CIP catalogue for this book is available from the British Library
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.
ISBN 978-1-908446-35-0
eISBN 978-1-908446-41-1