Golden Goal (7 page)

 

 

Jamie stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. Then he looked at himself in the mirror.

The three boys had drawn a target zone in the corner of the glass where they pussed all their spots. The aim was to get the pus to go right in the centre of the target zone. They knew it was disgusting but they found it funny. They'd even asked Mrs Luscombe not to clean that area!

Jamie inspected his chin but, for once, he had no spots at all! He smiled as he spiked up his hair with gel.

As he got into the cab to head to Alfredo's, Jamie checked his phone to see if there was a text or missed call from Jack. But there was nothing.

Jamie was actually a bit surprised that he didn't feel more upset about breaking up with her. Maybe he should have been crying or something. But the truth was, right now, Jamie felt more excited than depressed. Tonight he was going out with some of the most famous footballers in the country.

Sure he would miss Jack, of course he would. But he also knew that if he wanted to find a girl to replace her, it shouldn't be too hard. He was a footballer now, after all.

When they arrived, Jamie got out of the cab and gave the driver some money. He checked his reflection one last time in the car window. Then he went inside.

Walking into the restaurant, Jamie felt a flutter of nerves. He hoped he wouldn't say the wrong thing and make a fool of himself tonight. He just wanted to be accepted.

“Jamie!” shouted Dave Lewington. “Over here, mate. Just in time. We're about to order.”

Jamie sat down and took off his jacket. For some reason he felt boiling hot. He looked around him. The walls of the restaurant were covered with signed photographs of the Foxborough players. There was even one of the squad in the restaurant with the Premier League trophy! They must have come here when they won the title last season.

Jamie picked up the menu only to find that the whole thing was in Italian! He didn't have a clue what to do. He could point to a dish at random, he reckoned, but what if it was something he hated, like an olive salad?

“Ah, Mr Dave!” said a big, fat man as he embraced Dave Lewington with a super-sized hug. “Anda happy birthday to youa!”

“Thanks, Alberto. How's business?” Dave enquired.

“Oh, very good, sir. Very good indeed. The usual for everybody?”

“Yes, please, Alberto, that will be great.”

“No problem, Mr Dave. You know whatever you want, you just ask Alfredo!”

And, with a hearty laugh, Alberto instructed his team of young waitresses to collect the menus. Jamie breathed a sigh of relief. Who knows what he would have ended up ordering if it had been left up to him!

Almost immediately, a selection of every starter under the sun appeared on the table.

Garlic bread, smoked salmon, melon, prawns, cold meats, spare ribs, sardines and tomato salad all seemed to appear out of nowhere. Jamie quickly realized that he was completely stuffed and they had only had the starters!

It was at around nine-thirty p.m. that a strange ritual occurred right in front of Jamie. Seemingly as one, all the First Team players reached for their mobile phones, read a text message and then put their phones back in their pockets without even bothering to respond.

Jamie wondered what all the texts were and why not one of them had sent a reply.

Then, a couple of minutes later, Jamie felt his own phone vibrate in his pocket. Discreetly, he reached into his jacket. He assumed it would be from Jack but, when he opened his inbox, he saw that it was from a number he didn't recognize.

Slowly, Jamie pressed the button to open the message.

Jamie's hand was shaking. He read the message five or six times. At first he thought it might have been a wind-up from Bolt and Xabi. Maybe they had borrowed someone else's phone to try and fool him? But even they wouldn't know that the First Team Administrator was called Anne. Jamie only knew that himself because he'd heard Steve Brooker talking to her on the phone last week to arrange tickets for a First Team game.

This was real. This was serious. This was happening.

Jamie was in Foxborough's First Team squad!

 

 

Practically as soon as the Foxborough players had finished their meal, they were surrounded by fans and autograph hunters.

“Excuse me, could we get our photo taken with you?” asked a couple of girls. They were both fit.

“Sure you can,” Rick Morgan grinned, sleazily.

He stood up proudly and put his arms around the girls. As Morgan smiled, Jamie noticed how his long, sharpened teeth resembled fangs. Suddenly, he realized why Morgan was called Wolf.

“No,” one of the girls said. “Not with
you!
With Jamie! Our brothers say he's going to be the next big thing!”

Rick Morgan's lip curled with anger.

“Of course you can,” said Jamie.

He loved the fact that he was already more popular than Rick Morgan and he hadn't even made his First Team debut yet!

It was about ten-thirty when Dave Lewington called Alberto over to settle the bill.

“Oh, no, Mr Dave – it is your birthday! On the house!”

It was strange, Jamie thought, how it was always the really rich people who got given things for free.

As the Foxborough players left the restaurant, Jamie was starting to feel tired. He knew he should get an early night. After all, he was in the squad for Sunday's game. There was a chance he could make his Premier League debut!

“I'm off, Dave. Cheers for inviting me,” Jamie said, shaking his captain's hand as the players exited the restaurant. “I'll see you on the coach tomorrow.”

“Are you in the squad? Nice one!” said Dave. He seemed genuinely pleased for Jamie. “You should celebrate. Come out with us tonight, mate. We'll get you in, no problem.”

“Thanks,” said Jamie, crossing the road. “But I'd better get back.”

“Yeah, he's just a little boy!” Rick Morgan suddenly shouted. Jamie could hear the jealousy that laced Morgan's taunt. “Go home, little boy. Go back to your mummy.”

Jamie's blood boiled. What was Rick's problem? Jamie's career was just beginning and Rick's was near the end. Why couldn't he just accept that?

Fine,
Jamie thought to himself.
Now he's said that, I
will
go out with them, just to annoy him!

Jamie turned around and ran back across the road to rejoin the other players.

But he didn't look before he ran. So he didn't see the car coming.

The collision took place in an instant.

And then everything went dark.

 

 

Jamie opened his eyes. His vision was blurry. There was a torch. Someone was shining a torch in his eyes. He was in a room with white walls.

“Is he OK? Can he hear us?”

Jamie recognized the voice but was engulfed by a wave of tiredness. He fell back into a deep sleep.

“Hello, Jamie, how are you feeling?” The nurse smiled at Jamie as he woke up. She had a nice smile.

Jamie nodded. Every bone in his body hurt. It felt as though he had been sawn into a hundred different pieces and then stuck back together again.

He looked down at his left leg. It was in plaster and hoisted into the air.

Jamie looked at his surroundings. A hospital room with flowers and lots of “get well soon” cards. He didn't know what day it was or how long he had been here.

“What happened?” Jamie asked.

Jamie's mind frantically scampered into the past to find some answers. There were some corners of light: being out with his teammates … crossing the road. But nothing else. The rest was just empty shadows.

There was silence in the room. Nobody answered Jamie's question. He looked at his mum. She smiled weakly and looked to the floor.

“Finally!” said Jamie when the doctor entered his room, carrying with him an envelope of X-rays. “I've been stuck here for days now!”

“I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Jamie,” said the doctor. His voice was soft and calm. “I realize it must have been frustrating.”

“Frustrating … I can't feel a thing because of these drugs and every day I'm losing my fitness. It's more than frustrating! How long am I out for, doc? If I don't get back soon, Brian Robertson will go out and buy another winger and I'll have blown my chance. I've been training with the First Team, you know!”

“Jamie, the first thing to state is that you have sustained very significant injuries. Your back was severely injured by the initial impact of the collision, while your left leg was broken in three places. We believe this occurred when you landed on the ground, by which time you were already unconscious and therefore unable to break the weight of your fall.

“We have inserted three screws into your leg to hold the bone in place, but that is a perfectly normal procedure, and I am pleased to say that that operation was a complete success—”

“Great!” said Jamie. “Nice one!”

“As for your back,” continued the doctor, “you were extremely lucky, Jamie. Had your spine collapsed, you would have been paral—”

“So when will I be back in training again, doc?” Jamie asked again. “Just give me a date ... something to work to…”

“Jamie,” said the doctor, taking off his glasses and resting them on the table. “I'm not sure that you fully understand the gravity of your injuries. You are extremely fortunate that you will be able to walk again…”