awkward, thinking how much easier it had been facing the giant crocodile.
‘He’s so cute!’ Julianne said.
‘Look, he’s blushing!’ Nikki observed.
‘From England, you say?’ Sarah added.
‘I have a confession to make,’ Stacey said to Kenny, shushing her friends. ‘Nikki bet me a thousand yen I wouldn’t come over and talk to you, but I’m going to let her off.’
‘Why’s that?’ Kenny ventured.
‘Because you’re so cute, that’s why!’ The girls rocked with laughter in their chairs while Kenny’s cheeks burned. ‘Aww, you were looking so miserable all by yourself, so I came to cheer you up,’ Stacey said. ‘It’s what we do. We’re the cheer squad.’
‘You’re cheerleaders?’ Kenny finally realised.
‘Yep.’ Stacey put a warm hand over his. ‘Say, do you play soccer? I mean, football?’
‘A little.’
‘You should try out for the team tonight. We’ll be there too.’
‘Well, uh, I was planning to –’
‘That’s so great! We’ll see you later.’
‘And we’ll be checking out your legs!’ Julianne added with a wink.
Kenny picked up his tray, no longer hungry.
Once afternoon classes had finished, Kenny hurried to the changing room. He pulled on his football kit and jogged out onto the grass for a warm-up, remembering to stretch first. He glanced up, scanning the faces of the few parents who had come to watch, more in hope than expectation.
Coach Heagney checked off the list of names and put the ten prospective players through a series of drills, having them dribble round cones, through arches, playing quick one-twos and piggy-in-the-middle, while the first team trained nearby.
‘I want to see you do as many keepie-uppies as you can in two minutes and then I’m going to give you all a practice match. There are two places up for grabs, so you’ll need to impress me, if you want to make the team,’ Heagney said, chewing a wad of gum.
‘Hey, Kenny! Kenny!’ Stacey’s voice rang out from the byline. Kenny groaned and tried to ignore the four cheerleaders shaking their pompoms and working on synchronised dance moves.
‘Woo, nice legs!’ Julianne added, laughing.
Kenny concentrated on keeping the ball in the air. He got as far as twenty-eight before a voice brayed, ‘Sorry I’m late, Coach. I had a detention.’
Heagney scowled. ‘Again? Don’t make a habit of it, Brandon. I don’t want you missing any matches for me.’
‘Whatever.’ Brandon snapped a mock salute and dropped to do fifty push-ups in front of the cheerleaders.
Coach Heagney gathered the hopefuls together and handed out training bibs. He stopped in front of Kenny. ‘What’s your name, son?’
‘Kenny, sir.’
‘I’ve been watching you. You’re looking pretty sharp. You played before?’
‘Yes, sir. Centre midfield.’
Heagney nodded to himself. ‘OK, boys. I’ve got the first team squad here.’ He waved towards ten players in school kit, lining up on the side. ‘You’ll be playing five-a-side in two games. That way, I get to see you play against every member of the first team. Any questions? OK, grab a drink and we’ll start.’
Kenny was taking a glug from a water bottle when he felt a tug at his shoulder. A tall, skinny lad from the first team was beside him.
‘I’m Dionte,’ he said. ‘You’re the new kid, Kevin, right?’
‘Close. It’s Kenny.’
‘Kenny.’ Dionte repeated, making a mental note. ‘You’ve got some nice moves. You any good?’
‘I’m OK,’ Kenny said.
‘Well, don’t be too good, if you know what I’m saying.’ Dionte lowered his voice. ‘You see that big guy over there? That’s Brandon, the coach’s son. He’s the star player on the team and he likes it that way. Watch out for him; he’s got a mean streak.’
‘Let’s go, ladies,’ Heagney called, signalling for the start.
The first match was a tough 5–5 draw, with Kenny scoring twice and setting up two goals for his team of newcomers. He came off to a round of whoops from the cheer squad.
For the second game, Kenny found himself facing Brandon at the kick-off. ‘Think you’re something special, huh?’ Brandon muttered, towering over Kenny. ‘We’ll see about that.’
The match kicked off with Brandon passing the ball forward to Dionte on the left wing, before surging past Kenny and administering a hard shove as he raced by. Kenny hit the grass hard, but rolled as Kiyomi had taught him, springing back to his feet. It was too late. Dionte crossed for Brandon who steamrollered two defenders to nod the ball home, past the flailing goalkeeper.
The first teamers immediately scored again from the restart. Brandon clattered into a player attempting to dribble past, collected the ball and fired a long pass into the box, for a teammate to smash goalwards.
‘We’re getting murdered here,’ one of Kenny’s players grumbled. ‘The ref isn’t giving us anything.’
‘I’ve got an idea,’ Kenny said. ‘You two, make a run down the wings, draw the defenders to you. You and you, drop back in case of a counter. Leave me space in the middle.’
‘You sure about this?’ someone asked.
‘What do we have to lose? We’re two down already.’
Coach Heagney signalled for the kick-off. ‘You guys ready?’ He put his whistle to his lips.
Kenny closed his eyes and remembered his training: all matter was composed of energy and that energy could be harnessed and shaped by will. He’d been encouraged to practise, so why not now?
PHEEEEEP! Dionte touched the ball forward and Brandon charged towards it like a thundering rhinoceros. Kenny reached the ball first, flicked it up with his left toe and then hammered it on the volley straight upwards with his right, while falling backwards. The game stopped as everyone stared at the ball rocketing higher and higher into the peach-hued sky.
Coach Heagney squinted upwards, his chewing gum falling from his open mouth, as the ball vanished from view. He shook his head, then spluttered, ‘What the heck was that? Did you just lose the ball?’
Kenny sauntered over to stand by the goal post.
‘You! Blackwood! Didn’t you hear . . .?’ The coach’s voice trailed off as the ball reappeared and dropped out of the sky. It didn’t have time to bounce as Kenny tapped it into the goal with the side of his foot.
‘You have got to be kidding me,’ Heagney muttered.
‘That’s not fair!’ Brandon screamed. ‘The ball was out of play. The goalkeeper wasn’t even in the goal.’
‘Two–one,’ Heagney called, holding up his fingers to show the score. ‘Final play. Next goal wins.’
‘You are dead meat,’ Brandon snarled into Kenny’s face.
BZZZT! Kenny’s wrist tingled. With a scowl, he checked the screen on his smartwatch. It had buzzed to indicate the arrival of a message from Kiyomi.
The text was typically blunt: MEET ME OUT FRONT – NOW. WE’VE GOT TROUBLE.
Kenny scowled. This was not good. ‘Coach? How much time do we have left?’
Heagney peered at his battered stopwatch. ‘About