T.J. and the Penalty (5 page)

C
HAPTER
7

THREE WEEKS PASSED
. The whole school buzzed with excitement, and the smells of cooking filled every corner. ‘I can’t stand it,’ Jamie said. ‘I’m going to go crazy with hunger. Look at me, my mouth is watering.’

‘We’re doing this for you, Jamie,’ Tulsi told him. ‘So stop grumbling. Are you ready for training tonight?’

‘I’m wasting away,’ Jamie said. ‘I’ve hardly eaten a thing for weeks. And I think all the running is wearing my legs out. I’m sure they’re getting shorter.’

TJ laughed. Jamie had been running three
times
a week with him and his dad and Rob. The first two times they’d just jogged along really slowly, but since then they’d definitely speeded up a little and last night Jamie had hardly complained at all.

That afternoon at training Mr Wood had news for them. ‘I’ve arranged a friendly match for us,’ he said. ‘To help us prepare for the tournament.’

‘Not Hillside again,’ said Rafi.

‘No,’ said Mr Wood. ‘It’s against a Sunday League team called Meadow Green Wasps.’

‘Sad name,’ Tommy said. ‘We’ll beat them easily.’

‘I doubt it,’ said Rob, consulting his notebook. ‘Wasps won the Sunday League last year. They never lost a match.’

‘Exactly,’ said Mr Wood. ‘So we’d better do some work.’

‘You see?’ TJ said to Jamie, as they practised dribbling and sprinting. ‘You really are getting fitter.’

‘I don’t
feel
fitter,’ Jamie said.

‘Yeah, but you’re keeping up. Not like last time.’

Jamie paused. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘Rob’s joining in.’

‘Hey, that’s great,’ TJ said. Rob was dribbling very carefully in and out of the
cones
, his head bent in concentration. Then TJ heard Danny’s voice.

‘Look at him! You should stick to your notebook, Rob.’

Mr Wood turned sharply. ‘Danny,’ he said. ‘Over here. The rest of you, carry on.’

No one heard what Mr Wood said to Danny in a low voice, but they could see how angry he was. Danny walked back to his place with a very red face.

‘Well done, everyone,’ Mr Wood said at the end of the session. ‘You’ve all worked really hard, and now I’m going to tell you who’s in the squad to play Wasps. It’s seven-a-side and we’ll have two subs. Tommy, Ariyan, Rafi, Rodrigo, Danny, Cameron, Tulsi, TJ . . .’ He paused. There was just one place left now. ‘Leila, I know you’ve only just started, but you’ve learned really fast. And you’re very fit, so I’m going to give you a chance.’

Leila shrieked and clapped her hands. While her friends congratulated her, Mr Wood took Jamie to one side. ‘I’m sorry, Jamie,’ he said. ‘I just don’t think you’d make it through a match at the moment.’

‘Leila couldn’t even kick a ball until I showed her,’ grumbled Jamie later. ‘What’s the point in starving myself if I still don’t get in the team?’

‘I keep telling you,’ Tulsi said. ‘You don’t have to starve. You just have to eat different food. You’ll see on Saturday. Have you got a team for the World Cup?’

Jamie brightened up. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘The Carter boys. We’re going to be Iceland. Me and my four brothers.’

‘What, even little Max?’ said TJ. Max was only four and he hadn’t even started school yet.

‘Yeah,’ laughed Jamie. ‘He’s good, you
know
. When he kicks you, you really feel it!’

*

On Saturday morning TJ woke up early and pulled back the curtains. It was a sunny day with just a few fluffy clouds. The leaves were starting to fall from the trees, but there was still a bit of summer in the air. When they arrived at the school Mr Wood and Miss Berry were fastening a banner above the gate:

PARKVIEW WORLD CUP

And Mr Coggins the caretaker was tying other banners onto the fence:

FUN! FOOD! FITNESS! FOOTBALL!

Teachers and children were carrying tables out of the school and setting up stalls. ‘We were going to have the stalls
inside
,’ Miss Berry said, ‘but it’s such a lovely day that we decided to bring everything out here.’

‘I’m not sure about the bread rolls the Reception children have made,’ TJ said, laughing. ‘They’re really weird shapes!’

‘They smell good though,’ said Jamie. ‘And look at all those other stalls.’

It wasn’t just TJ’s mum and dad who’d been cooking. Tulsi’s parents had made lots of delicious Indian vegetarian food.

Rodrigo’s mum and dad were standing, smiling, behind a tempting collection of fish dishes from Portugal. There was Moroccan food and Spanish food and Polish food and Chinese food, and it all looked mouth-wateringly good.

Jamie had his whole family with him. His dad was a giant in jeans and a leather jacket with a fat gold earring and Jamie’s infectious grin. ‘I would have done a stall myself,’
Jamie’s
mum said. ‘But healthy food isn’t my strong point. And anyway, my boys like burgers and chips.’

‘We like other things too,’ Jamie said. ‘Come on, Mum. Let’s try out the food.’

‘Iceland aren’t going to win the World Cup,’ said Rafi. ‘Jamie won’t be able to move by this afternoon.’

‘It’s Jamaica who will win,’ said TJ’s dad. ‘Represented by the Wilson family.’

‘Jamaica’s where my grandma and grandpa were born,’ TJ explained.

‘Look,’ said Tulsi, suddenly pointing. ‘What do they want?’

Two men in grey suits were walking in through the school gates. TJ recognized them at once. ‘It’s the inspectors,’ he said.

‘Mr Burrows must have asked them to come,’ said Mr Wood, who was standing nearby. ‘We’d better make sure they have a good time.’

C
HAPTER
8

‘TJ,’ SAID MR
Wood. ‘This is Mr Grayson and Mr Turvey. Will you show them around? Maybe Tulsi could go with you?’

‘Er, yes. OK, Mr Wood,’ said TJ. ‘Where would you like to go?’ he asked the inspectors.

‘Let’s look at the stalls the children have set up,’ said Mr Turvey. From a distance the two inspectors had looked like twins, but now TJ could see the difference. Mr Turvey was gazing around with interest, but Mr Grayson looked as though he had just smelled something nasty.

‘This is a good school really,’ Tulsi said. ‘Everyone’s been working very hard.’

‘I’m glad you think so,’ Mr Turvey said. ‘But you know, we have to look at the facts. We can’t just take your word for it.’

‘You sound like Rob,’ TJ said. ‘He only believes in facts.’

‘This is Year Five,’ Tulsi said. Year Five had been making fruit salad and the colours on the stall were dazzling.

‘Would you like to try some, sir?’ asked the girl behind the stall.

‘Thanks,’ said Mr Turvey. ‘How about this one?’

‘That’s mango, guava, pineapple and coconut,’ said the girl. ‘It’s tropical. Would you like the recipe?’

She handed Mr Turvey a piece of paper. It was covered with beautifully neat handwriting and pictures of fruit.

Mr Turvey showed it to Mr Grayson, who
sniffed
. ‘Who wrote this?’ he enquired drily.

‘Me,’ said the girl. ‘Loretta, see?’ She pointed to her name on the bottom of the sheet.

‘Remarkable,’ said Mr Grayson. ‘We’ve never seen work of this quality here before. Are you sure this wasn’t written by your parents, young lady?’

A small crowd of interested mums and dads had gathered around the inspectors, and there was a sudden commotion at the back. A large West Indian lady pushed her way to the front. ‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘Are you calling my daughter a liar?’

Mr Grayson took a step back. ‘No, madam. Of course not. But the inspection of a school is a serious matter. We don’t want to make any mistakes.’

‘I should think not,’ said Loretta’s mum. ‘It would be a very big mistake to
say
anything bad about this school, I can tell you. Look at all the wonderful things they have done here today. Shame on you.’

There was a cheer from the crowd. TJ and Tulsi led the inspectors on to look at the other stalls. ‘That told you, eh, Charles?’ said Mr Turvey, and TJ thought he saw just the hint of a smile on his face.

But Mr Grayson frowned even harder, as they went from stall to stall and saw that every class had produced posters and recipes and even little booklets. ‘It’s like a different school from the one we visited last term,’ he said suspiciously. ‘Something fishy is going on here.’

‘No,’ Tulsi said with a grin. ‘You can just smell Rodrigo’s stall, that’s all.’ She pointed at the bowls of fishy food. TJ kicked her. He had the feeling that Mr Grayson didn’t have a sense of humour.

‘Let’s take a look at the football,’ Mr Turvey said. ‘I see you have a pupil organizing it all.’

‘This is Rob,’ TJ said. ‘The one who likes facts. He’s in charge.’

Rob had drawn out a complicated plan to show who was playing who, and which of the three small pitches they were playing on.

‘We have to have three pitches,’ he explained. ‘Otherwise we’ll never get all the matches played. But that’s OK. Mini-pitches for a mini-World Cup. We’re having mini-matches too, only two minutes each way.’

‘This is incredible,’ Mr Turvey said, studying Rob’s plan. ‘You’ve done a complete timetable!’

‘Are you planning to enter a team?’ Rob asked him. ‘I can let you have time to think about it.’ He looked at his watch. ‘You have an hour and twenty-three minutes before
the
first match. That’s so people can recover from all the eating,’ he added.

For the first time, Mr Turvey’s face broke into a smile. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid my footballing days are over.’

‘Mr Coggins is playing,’ Rob said. ‘I’m sure he’s a lot older than you are. He’s in the dinner ladies’ team. They’re Mexico.’

TJ made his way back to his mum and dad’s stall, where he saw a familiar tall figure in a woolly hat tucking into a bowl of his dad’s lamb and peas. ‘Hi, Marshall,’ he said. ‘You’re not going to play, are you?’

‘No way! We’ve got a game tomorrow. Imagine if I got injured again! I’ll tell you what though – why don’t I ref some matches? I don’t mind doing that.’

‘And you have to officially open the World Cup,’ Tulsi said. ‘Please?’

‘Well, OK,’ laughed Marshall. ‘But first I want to eat some more of this food. Where
did
you get this recipe? It’s fantastic. Just like my granny used to make in Jamaica.’

‘I got it from
my
granny,’ laughed Mr Wilson. ‘Hey, maybe my granny knew your granny!’

TJ left them eating and laughing. Everyone seemed to be having a great time. He spotted Mrs Hubbard, the school cook, standing at Tulsi’s stall. ‘I don’t like spicy food,’ she was saying, wrinkling her nose. ‘Never have.’

‘Why don’t you try some of this aubergine?’ Tulsi’s mum said.

‘Oh, no. I couldn’t. I don’t like those overjean thingies.’

‘I bet you’ve never even tried one,’ Jamie said. ‘They’re great. Everything Mrs Patel’s made is great. I’ve tried it all!’

‘Jamie!’ said TJ. ‘You’re trying to stay fit.’

‘It’s OK,’ Jamie said. ‘I’m having a day
off
. I’ll start again tomorrow. Go on, Mrs Hubbard. Try some.’

Mrs Hubbard took the little bowl from Mrs Patel and sniffed it suspiciously. ‘Hmm,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t smell too bad, I suppose.’

She put some in her mouth. Very slowly, her face changed. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Ah!’ Then she took another mouthful, and another. ‘Well,’ she said finally. ‘That was
delicious
. Who would have thought it?’

‘You should try absolutely everything,’ Jamie said. ‘I’ll tell you what, I’ll help you, Mrs H. There’s lots of other good stalls.’

TJ and Tulsi watched them walk away.

‘He’s getting fatter by the second,’ said Tulsi. ‘And after all the hard work he’s done. If I hadn’t thought of the World Food Day, this would never have happened.’