by Adrian Beck
THUMP! Goal! THUMP! Goal! THUMP! Goal!
She hardly missed a penalty shot, like Cristiano Ronaldo from Real Madrid. It was clear that Charlotte and the girls’ team were super talented. But could the combined team work together?
Charlotte kept checking her watch. No doubt she had the whole morning planned to the millisecond to fit in all her commitments. Well, CJ had a plan of his own.
CJ had never been early to school in his life. But a couple of hours later, he entered the gates with a spring in his step. Garlic bounded over to sniff him, probably to check it was really CJ.
‘Get out of it, stinky!’ said CJ, giving Garlic a pat.
Benji ran in after CJ. ‘Remind me why we’re here so early?’
‘I have a killer idea,’ said CJ. ‘Did you bring that big sheet of cardboard from your dad’s work that I asked for?’
A book fell from Benji’s bag as he reached inside. Football Skills for Dummies. Weird. Usually Benji had prank or dance books. He used to swear by Pranks Very Much. Although, he also liked Pranks For The Memories and Pranks a Million.
Benji swiped up the book and thrust the cardboard and marker at CJ who then started drawing.
‘A football, an arrow and an … egg cup?’ asked Benji.
‘That’s a trophy!’ said CJ, annoyed. ‘The sign means if you want to be part of a champion football team, head up to the football pitch.’
‘You could’ve just written that.’
CJ rolled his eyes. ‘Where’s the drama, man? Follow me.’
They jogged up the slope to the school football pitch. CJ took out his football. He and Benji started passing it back and forth. CJ was surprised at how well Benji flicked it back to him, he even made some impressive through balls between their schoolbags. Accurate passes are priceless during a game, and Benji’s foot skills were reminding him of Tom Rogic from the Socceroos.
‘Nice one, Benji! Now, listen up. As every Jets player arrives at school today they’ll see my sign and head straight up here. And the first step to our new team’s success is voting on a new captain. So, I’ve got a voting box.’
‘That’s your lunch box.’
CJ dumped his sandwiches onto the pitch. ‘Not anymore.’
‘Um, there’s still a bit of jam stuck to the insides,’ said Benji.
CJ peered inside. ‘Jam? Nah, that could be anything.’
‘Right. And this really has nothing to do with eggs then?’
‘What? No! It’s about making our new team the best it can possibly be,’ said CJ. ‘By voting for me to be captain!’
Benji forced a smile and said nothing.
‘I’d be an awesome captain. Go on. Do one of your top five lists. Make it … TOP FIVE REASONS WHY THE AMAZING CJ SHOULD BE JETS CAPTAIN BECAUSE HE’S HILARIOUS AND DEFINITELY A CAPTAINY TYPE OF GUY.’
‘Oh. Really?’
‘Come on!’
‘Um, well, number one: you’ve always liked pirates and there are heaps of pirate captains.’
‘Ahoy! You be right there, me hearty!’ said CJ. ‘And?’
‘Um and … you can spell, captain.’
‘K.A.P.T.E.N. – simple. What else?’
‘Hmmm. Well, you broke the school record for longest worn pair of underpants.’
‘Forty-three weeks and counting.’ said CJ, patting his butt. ‘Despite the rash.’
‘Oh, and number four! When I was stuck for a prank idea on the last day of term, you suggested filling a whoopee cushion with whipped cream and leaving it for Highpants to sit on.’
‘Leadership material, right there,’ laughed CJ.
‘Plus, and this is actually a pretty good one, you topscored for the Jets last season. You even beat Lenny.’
CJ tapped his super shiny gold football boots. ‘Yep, these beauties have never let me down! Which brings me to this morning’s killer idea.’
Benji looked confused as CJ dragged him over to the edge of the pitch beside the playground. He started sizing up the angles by holding out his thumb like he was painting a portrait.
‘When the other Jets arrive I’m going to boot the ball off the tree, it’ll bounce off the old dude statue – almost like he’s doing a header – then it’ll roll down the slide, bump up into the air on that rock, zigzag across the top of the chicken coop, along the gutter of the clubrooms and – if my calculations are correct –’
‘Which they almost certainly aren’t,’ mumbled Benji.
‘– the ball will roll onto the pitch and then straight through the goals!’ CJ jumped up and down. ‘It’ll blow them away. We’ll get everyone to vote then and there. Done deal. Me. Captain.’
Benji laughed. ‘Classic!’
‘Maybe we should do a quick test before everyone arrives,’ said CJ.
‘Maybe.’
CJ gave the football an ALMIGHTY BOOT. It sailed through the air, missed the tree completely and smacked into the chicken coop.
BGAWWWWK! BGAWWWWK!
The ball hit the coop’s door, bashing it open with a loud bang.
Just then, Rex and Fahad – CJ’s Jets teammates – arrived. ‘Hey! Is someone giving out free boiled eggs to football players up here?’
‘What?’ asked CJ, sprinting for the coop. But the chickens were out.
‘Hey guys, am I too late for the eggs?’ yelled Antonio, another Jet, from somewhere behind CJ.
‘Looks like they’re going to be fresh,’ muttered Benji.
‘Back inside, chook,’ ordered CJ, trying to herd the nearest chicken.
BGAWWWWK!
The chicken lunged at CJ.
‘Whoa! How rude.’
Six chickens were loose on the pitch. They were spreading out. CJ and the others were MAJORLY FREAKING.
‘Is it just me or are these chooks not really scared of us?’ asked Benji, as he backed into CJ.
There was a black one, a brown one, two white ones and one with half its feathers missing. Creepy. They waddled closer, clucking and snapping their beaks. In seconds, the boys were huddled together, surrounded by chickens.
‘This isn’t how I expected things to go,’ said CJ.
‘Morning, bird brains,’ said Charlotte, as she jogged onto the pitch. ‘I’ve got three minutes, seven seconds to spare before I need to finish my maths homework. So, in the meantime, do you need a hand?’
The chickens clucked, jiggling the red floppy bits beneath their beaks.
‘We’ve got this totally under control,’ snapped CJ, as a chicken LUNGED for him. ‘Aaarrgghh!’
‘Heads up, Benji!’ said Charlotte, and she booted the football high into the air, looping it over the chickens.
Benji headed the ball to himself, then let it slide down his chest. He started foot juggling. The chickens backed away.
‘Keep it up, Benji,’ cheered Charlotte.
Benji juggled the ball from one foot to the other. It was spooking the chickens. They were on the move. CJ got the other kids to fan out behind Benji. In no time they herded all the chickens back home.
Benji kept juggling till CJ SLAMMED the coop door shut.
CJ high-fived Benji. ‘Nice one, mate!’
‘I’ve been practising,’ said Benji, red-faced.
Charlotte smiled at Benji. ‘Maybe you should think about joining our new team. We could always use someone with your foot skills.’
‘Benji?’ scoffed CJ, looking at him as though he was from Mars. ‘Least sporty guy I know. He’s just the mascot. All about the funny costume and doing his silly dance before the match. That hairless chook would make a better footballer.’
Benji went quiet. He glanced down, hiding his face with the peak of his cap. Charlotte shook her head at CJ, unimpressed. Although CJ wasn’t great at emotional stuff, he suddenly suspected Benji mightn’t have been all that cool with what he’d just said.
‘Mate?’
‘Maybe I don’t want to be just the mascot anymore,’ mumbled Benji.
‘Huh?’
‘Maybe it’s time I gave
football a proper go,’ said Benji, still unable to meet CJ’s eye. ‘Now that there’s been a bit of a mix-up of the teams.’
CJ was speechless. He looked at Benji like he was a stranger.
Charlotte put her arm around Benji and they began walking down towards the classrooms. ‘What position do you think you’d like to try?’
CJ interrupted, ‘Now wait a sec –’ CJ interrupted.
Charlotte spun around and snapped at CJ. ‘No, CJ. Enough!’ She wore an expression that made CJ’s toes curl up. ‘I thought we agreed not to vote on captain till after the weekend.’
‘Well, yeah.’
‘So explain that?’ She nodded to CJ’s feet.
CJ glanced down at his lunch box on the grass. On the side it said, ‘Vote for CJ.’
‘Er, whoops!’ said CJ with a nervous giggle.
Charlotte, Benji and the others started walking off.
‘Hey, where are you all going? Don’t listen to boring old Charlotte! Remember, I’m going for day forty-four with these undies!’
No response.
CJ stomped on his lunch box. ‘Listen up, if I can’t be captain I’m quitting!’
Still nothing. CJ was left alone on the pitch.
BGAWWWWK!
Well, not quite. He had the chickens.
CJ wasn’t having a good day. It was even worse than the day he’d submitted a ‘creative response’ project about a book he hadn’t even read. He could’ve sworn the book was called Diarrhoea of a Wimpy Kid.
But his day was going to get worse. CJ was about to do something silly … again.
Miffed about Benji siding with Charlotte, at recess CJ decided to hang out with the Paulveriser and his mates.
The fact that he could see Charlotte, Benji, Lexi and all the others on the football pitch from where the Paulveriser and his friends were, had almost nothing to do with it. Almost. Benji was good at football! Why hadn’t CJ noticed that before? He was linking up with Charlotte and Saanvi. There were goals galore. The new team might go okay. With or without CJ. They didn’t seem to be missing him. He suddenly got an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach.
The Paulveriser had a funny way of passing the time. Underneath the big gum tree on the carpark side of the school there was a large ant hill. The Paulveriser seemed to like to dare his friends to go up to the ant hill one at a time and stick their finger in the hole before running back to the rest of the group. Funny thing was, the Paulveriser never seemed to get around to doing it himself.
CJ, of course, had to take it up a notch. ‘I’ll stick my finger in the ant hole for ten whole seconds. Bet no-one can beat me.’
‘Yeah right,’ said one of the kids.
‘As if,’ said another.
‘Go on, then!’ said the Paulveriser.
CJ strode up to the ant hill. But when he got there he saw the size of the bull ants that were coming in and out of the hole. He saw their big black eyes, what looked like fangs (they probably weren’t, but he never listened when Highpants banged on about science) and most of all he saw their BIG BUTTS used for stinging.
‘What are you waiting for, CJ?’ asked the Paulveriser.
‘Um, maybe you’d like to practise some goalie stuff instead?’ asked CJ. ‘Big game in two days!’
‘Nah. I don’t need practice. This is heaps more fun. Get on with it.’
CJ crouched down. It suddenly occurred to him that ten seconds was a PARTICULARLY LONG TIME. How many bites could he get in that period? One per second? More? This was not one of his best ideas.
He reached out, pointed his finger, and hovered.
‘Come on, tough guy!’ taunted the Paulveriser.
CJ felt sweat drip down his forehead. It wasn’t like him to overthink things, so he grit his teeth and plunged his finger towards the ant hill hole.
‘Stop right there!’ yelled Highpants, hurrying towards them from the other side of the playground.
‘Forget Highpants. Just do it, CJ,’ whispered the Paulveriser. ‘Or are you chicken?’
Chickens. CJ was SO OVER chickens. He was about to stab his finger into the hole when …
‘Owww!’ cried the Paulveriser, swiping his knee. ‘One’s crawled up my leg! Aaaarrrggghhh!!!’
‘Move away from the ants!’ shouted Highpants.
‘Ow!’ One of them bit CJ. But not on his finger. On his BUTT. He flicked it away.
The Paulveriser was stomping on his ant over and over as Highpants arrived. He looked like an elephant trying to dance to ‘Gangnam Style’.
Meanwhile, CJ was wide-eyed with pain, trying to shake off the STINGING SENSATION on his bottom. He looked like a possum trying to twerk.
‘Leave those ants alone!’ ordered Highpants. ‘And what’s wrong with you, Mr Jackson? You look like you’ve actually got ants in your … Oh, maybe you have!’
‘Not anymore hopefully, but it still stings!’ replied CJ.
‘Straight to sick bay, Mr Jackson,’ said Highpants. ‘And Paul, report to Principal Swift’s office, now!’
As CJ walked towards sick bay holding his butt, he heard the Paulveriser laughing.
‘Oi, CJ! I saw Lenny last night!’ called out the Paulveriser on his way to Principal Swift’s office. CJ knew the two boys were mates. They had a lot in common: being total jerks. ‘Yep, Lenny said he’s looking forward to seeing you again!’
CJ couldn’t help wondering what that was supposed to mean.
The nurse gave CJ some cream to apply and left him to lie on the bed for a few minutes. CJ wasn’t sure if that was enough of a response for this extreme life and death situation. He should’ve explained the seriousness of the circumstances: he had TICKETS TO THE MATILDAS MATCH that night!
The sick bay door was ajar. CJ noticed Charlotte, Lexi and Benji walking past. They were holding folders of paper, and were in deep discussion. Lexi beamed as she filmed them selfie-style. CJ made a mental note to check Lexi’s popular YouTube channel to find out what they were talking about. In between all the hair care tips and poems about One Direction he might actually find something useful. (Not that Lexi’s poem, ‘Niall’s Smile’, didn’t deserve over thirteen thousand likes, of course.)
Benji was bounding around Charlotte like an excited puppy. He handed her the folder. It must’ve been hers because Benji’s stuff was always covered in his hilarious/stupid cartoons. Charlotte checked her watch and, seeming flustered, she gestured for him to put it in her backpack. He shoved it in, but a single sheet of paper fell to the ground as they hurried off. Maybe CJ didn’t need to check YouTube after all.
CJ ducked out of sick bay, grabbed the paper and returned to the bed. It was Charlotte’s new game plan for the Jets. And boy, was it good. It was better than good. It was INCREDIBLE.
But it was really complicated. CJ didn’t get through half the page before he started daydreaming. At least he was daydreaming about playing for Australia. The game plan had very few pictures. CJ liked pictures. He wondered if even the Socceroos or the Matildas would understand all the big words in Charlotte’s plan.
Then it occurred to him; maybe that’s how CJ could help the Jets. He could take complicated tactics and dumb it down for them somehow. Make Charlotte’s game plan easier to understand. Could that be his role?
If anyone could dumb it down, CJ could.
CJ had been waiting for the Matildas’ match for months. But given the events of the last few days it seemed to creep up on him.
He was originally going with his dad, but a couple of days ago, Benji’s dad, their dance group leader, had demanded an extra rehearsal. THAT SUCKED. It had been a while since CJ and his dad had done something fun together.
Luckily, Charlotte’s family were going too, and CJ’s dad had asked Mrs Alessi to take CJ. This had all happened before CJ and Charlotte had their little misunderstanding about the captaincy. But CJ couldn’t miss out on the Matildas. He’d never seen Sam Kerr live, only on telly. He had a feeling Australia’s star striker was going to turn it on, BIG TIME.
CJ was pumped for a night of many backflip goal celebrations!
CJ turned up at Charlotte’s place just as her and the family – one brother and four sisters including the baby – started walking to the train station. As usual, Charlotte’s dad was working.
As they walked, Charlotte read a school textbook – which looked super boring – and she had a sleeping baby Sofia in one of those tummy brace things. She didn’t have a lot to say to CJ, except. ‘So, how’s your butt?’
CJ went red. ‘Good thanks.’
The truth was it wasn’t that good at all. The train ride was MEGA UNCOMFORTABLE. CJ found himself WRIGGLING in his seat unable to find a comfy position. The mother next to him muttered something about ‘WORMS’ and moved her family further down the carriage.
When they got to their seats inside the stadium there was some sort of mix-up. Charlotte’s family hadn’t bought one of the seats they thought they had. There was a large bearded guy plonked in one of them. He wouldn’t move. So CJ had to sit on the other side of him, separated from Charlotte and the Alessi family. The guy looked a bit like Santa, but the way he was taking up half of CJ’s seat didn’t show much Christmas spirit.
It wasn’t the worst result. At least he didn’t have to sit next to Charlotte. AWKWARD.
The view was EPIC. Third row. Western End. AAMI Park. Once the game started he forgot about everything. Even his BUTT. The Matildas were ON FIRE. Sam Kerr was every bit the SUPERSTAR he’d seen on TV. Thanks to her, every time the Matildas pushed forward they seemed dangerous. Late in the first half she scored a header off a cross from Lisa De Vanna. And yes, there was a backflip.
CJ jumped from his seat so he could try out his own moves. He squished his way out to the aisle and backflipped up the steps. Well, an ATTEMPTED backflip. It looked more like someone getting an electric shock midhandstand, but he still got a cheer from the nearby crowd. Just not from Charlotte. She simply shook her head and checked that baby Sofia was still sleeping through it all.
By half-time CJ was totally BUZZED. Eventually he couldn’t help but lean forward and yell across the bearded guy, over to Charlotte.