T.J. and the Penalty (2 page)

He could win the ball from any of them, and once he had it, it was impossible to get it back from him. And all the time he played his face was split by a banana-shaped grin.

The score finally reached 23–2 and the sun started to go down behind the trees.

‘Has your school entered the District Tournament?’ Krissy asked them smugly. ‘Our teacher thinks we’ll probably win.’

‘I don’t know,’ said Tulsi. ‘Mr Wood hasn’t said anything.’

‘Maybe he looked at your defender and decided it wasn’t worth entering,’ Krissy went on. ‘He’s getting fatter every day. Look at him now.’

They all looked over at the bench. TJ couldn’t believe his eyes. Jamie was unwrapping a chocolate bar. ‘What?’ Jamie said indignantly when he saw them all watching him. ‘I have to keep my strength up, don’t I?’

C
HAPTER
2

‘YOU DON’T THINK
I’m fat, do you?’ Jamie asked TJ, as they walked home together. Rob was with them too, deep in thought.

‘No,’ replied TJ. ‘Of course not.’

‘I mean, I have to eat. That’s what Mum says. I have a healthy appetite.’

‘Perhaps you should eat a bit less chocolate,’ Rob suggested.

‘I’m
not
fat,’ Jamie said indignantly.

‘No,’ said Rob, ‘but you have slowed down a bit.’

‘I knew it,’ muttered Jamie gloomily. ‘It’s
not
fair. Everyone else can eat chocolate. Why can’t I?’

‘It’s not just chocolate,’ Rob pointed out. ‘You always have two helpings of everything.’

‘No one’s ever moaned before,’ Jamie said. ‘I was just a bit tired today, that’s all. I’ll see you on Monday. Maybe Mr Wood will tell us about this tournament.’

TJ and Rob watched Jamie amble off towards his house. ‘He needs a proper fitness regime,’ Rob said seriously. ‘A balanced diet and plenty of exercise. He’s a very important part of the team. If he was properly fit he could be a really good player.’

TJ stopped and stared at Rob. ‘You’d better not say all that to Jamie,’ he said. ‘He’d kill you.’

‘Well, someone needs to say it,’ replied Rob. ‘And they need to say it soon. Jamie’s not that unfit yet, but if he doesn’t watch out he will be. And then we’ll be looking for a new defender.’

On Monday morning, Mr Wood was waiting for them in the classroom wearing a smart suit and a dazzling white shirt with a stripy tie. It was hard to believe he was the same man who wore a faded old T-shirt and jogging bottoms and an old blue baseball cap when he took them for PE and football training.

‘I’ve entered the school team in the District Tournament,’ he told them. TJ looked
around
at his friends and gave them a thumbs-up. Mr Wood saw him. ‘I’m warning you all,’ he said sternly. ‘Nobody’s place is safe. Anyone who comes to training every week will have a chance to get in the team.’

TJ glanced over at Jamie, but he didn’t seem to be worried. ‘OK,’ said Mr Wood. ‘Now you all know we’ve had inspectors visiting our school.’

Tulsi pulled a face. The inspectors had been in the school for two whole days the week before. They’d made all the teachers cross and miserable.

‘The inspectors will be making visits all this term,’ Mr Wood continued. ‘And we’re going to have to impress them. That’s why we’re going to do a big project about football.’

Everyone began talking at once. TJ smiled. Mr Wood was really good at finding ways to make everyone work hard.

‘We’ll be doing lots of exciting things,’ Mr Wood explained. ‘And we’ll make a start by finding out about some footballers. Each of you can pick a name from my hat and use these’ – he pointed to a pile of books and newspapers and magazines – ‘to write the life story of your player. Find out as much as you can. When they scored their first goal. Who their mums and dads are – and their grandparents, if you like. Some of you can use the Internet too.’

‘So it’ll be like Literacy and History both at the same time?’ asked Jamie.

‘You’ve got it,’ smiled Mr Wood. ‘It’s just the kind of project the inspectors like to see. Especially if you do it really well.’

Rob waved his hand in the air. ‘You’ve forgotten about Numeracy, Mr Wood,’ he said. Rob loved statistics. He collected them all the time in his big black notebooks.

Mr Wood laughed. ‘I’m sure you’ll find a
way
to get some stats in your project, Rob,’ he replied. ‘Let’s get started, everyone.’

‘Who have you got?’ TJ asked Rob.

‘Gary Devlin,’ Rob said, looking at his piece of paper. He closed his eyes and recited: ‘Born 1983 in Leicester. First appearance—’

‘OK, OK,’ TJ laughed. ‘But you’ve still got to write it all down.’

Rob frowned. ‘I’ll need to check all the information first,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to get it wrong.’

After a few minutes TJ looked around the classroom. Everyone was working hard, looking through the books and papers and making notes. ‘I don’t get it,’ TJ whispered to Rob. ‘When we have to write stories you hardly write anything, but now you’re doing all this. You’ve written more than anyone.’

‘I hate stuff that’s made up,’ Rob
explained
. ‘Last year our teacher made us write stories all the time. I hated it. So they started making me have special help from Miss Berry.’

‘But everyone likes stories.’

‘Well, I don’t,’ said Rob. ‘Stories aren’t true. I like facts.’

‘Get on with your work,’ Mr Wood snapped, ‘or you can both stay in at break.’

Rob grinned at TJ. Mr Wood was very strict in class, but they both knew that he was a great teacher. And, just as important, he was a brilliant football coach.

At lunch time Jamie, TJ and Tulsi waited patiently in the queue in the dinner hall. The children nearby were all eating packed lunches. ‘It’s worse than the zoo,’ TJ said to Jamie, as they watched the little kids in Class One throwing sandwiches at each other. Janice, the head dinner lady, was trying to
stop
them, but they just ignored her.

Jamie wasn’t interested in the little kids. ‘Yes!’ he exclaimed, as they reached the hatch. ‘It’s shepherd’s pie! My favourite!’

‘Hello, Jamie love,’ said Mrs Hubbard, the school cook. She was wearing a red-and-white striped apron and her enormous shape seemed to fill the whole hatch. ‘You love my shepherd’s pie, don’t you? I’ll give you a little bit extra. And would you like some chips with it?’

‘Yes, please,’ said Jamie. ‘And a bit of sweetcorn too.’

‘There,’ said Mrs Hubbard, handing Jamie a plateful of food that was piled up like a mountain range. ‘Oh, wait a second, love. You should have some salad. We have to be healthy, you know.’ She balanced a small piece of lettuce on top of the mountain.

‘Good boy,’ she said. ‘And it’s toffee crunch for afters, so I’ll save you a nice
sticky
bit.’

‘Please don’t give him so much food, Mrs Hubbard,’ said Tulsi, as Jamie wandered off to find a seat. ‘He’s getting really unfit.’

‘Nonsense, dear,’ Mrs Hubbard replied. ‘He’s a growing lad. And he loves my cooking. It does me a power of good to see a boy with a healthy appetite.’

‘We have to do something,’ TJ said to Tulsi. ‘He’s our friend, and if he doesn’t watch out, he’ll be so unfit that Mr Wood will drop him from the team.’

C
HAPTER
3

TRAINING WAS ON
Wednesday afternoon. As they changed in the classroom, TJ saw Jamie take a plastic box from his bag. ‘I don’t believe it,’ he said to Rafi, who was chatting to his friend, Ariyan. ‘Look at Jamie!’

Jamie opened the box, took out a sandwich and began to munch. ‘What are you doing?’ TJ said. ‘We’re supposed to be playing football, not having a picnic.’

‘Mum thought I’d need the energy,’ Jamie said, although it was hard to make out what
he
was saying through his enormous mouthful of sandwich.

‘I give up,’ TJ said. ‘Anyone would think you didn’t want to play, Jamie.’

TJ looked across the room and saw Danny watching them. Danny was a good footballer, and he’d been the goalkeeper for their match against Hillside, but none of TJ’s friends liked him. TJ had the feeling that Danny would be pleased if Jamie lost his place in the team.

Outside on the field Mr Wood and Miss Berry had marked out a grid of ten-metre squares using plastic cones. ‘It looks as if everyone in Year Six is here,’ said Mr Wood. ‘So Miss Berry is going to help out at every session from now on.’

They all jogged round the field a few times to warm up, and TJ could see that Jamie was struggling badly.

‘OK, everyone,’ Mr Wood said. ‘Line up
along
the edge of the grid there. I want you to sprint to the next row of cones, touch the ground, then sprint back again. After that, sprint to the next row, touch, and sprint back. OK? On my whistle. Go!’

There was no time for TJ to worry about Jamie any more. He sprinted, turned and ran. Just as he thought he was getting his breath back, the whistle blew and they were off again. Soon TJ’s shirt was wet with sweat, and his lungs were bursting.

‘That’s good,’ said Mr Wood. ‘Now get one ball between two and work in one of the squares. Control the ball, pass it, and move to a new position. See if you can pass the ball to where you think your partner is going to be. Go.’