Free Kick by Tom Palmer (best e book reader for android TXT) 📗

the supermarket sometimes, or in the town centre. People would stare and point. Sometimes they would come up to him, telling him that they saw him play in 1983 and how he’d made them really happy, going on and on about his headed goal in the cup final when he’d won it for West Ham.

James was OK with this, mostly because he was used to it. But he was uncomfortable when the attention turned on him. And he hated it when people started telling him things like he was going to be an England international just like his dad.

So he wasn’t happy with what happened next.

First a cheer went up. Then they all started clapping. Five grown men were applauding James, including his dad.

James tried to smile.

‘Here comes England’s next world-cup-winning captain,’ one man said. James sort of recognized him. He looked like a player he’d seen photos of with his dad at West Ham.

‘We hope so. Don’t we?’ James’s dad said.

‘He’ll be lifting a trophy like you did, Cyril. I can see it.’

James just smiled. He didn’t want to actually say yes.

‘That was a great performance, son,’ another man said. James didn’t recognize him. ‘You held that defence together superbly. I don’t think anyone’s ever kept Arsenal down to just one. You and that captain of yours were heroes.’

‘Thank you,’ James said, knowing his dad was watching him.

‘So how are you enjoying it at United?’ the man said.

‘Great, thanks,’ James said.

But inside he was starting to feel angry and all his anger was aimed at his dad. Why couldn’t his dad see that he hated this? Why couldn’t his dad stop them going on at him?

‘We’re really happy with United,’ his dad said. ‘The coaching is right and so is the balance between school and football. Obviously he’ll have to put more in when he’s fifteen and sixteen to get a full contract. But now it’s just right.’

James smiled on the outside, gazing across at the team bus. He wished he was on it, listening to music. Very loud music.

Why did his dad not know him at all?

Why did he think he was going to do exactly what he had done?

Why did he think the best thing in the world was being a footballer?

Secret Santas

Steve was in a good mood on the coach leaving West Ham. He was wearing a Santa hat and grinning.

‘Right, lads.’

The boys burst out laughing.

‘What?’ Steve said, half smiling. ‘Anyway. That was great today. I am so proud of you. What a result! You beat one of the best under-twelves teams in Europe. I couldn’t be happier.’

Steve then picked up a bucket from one of the front seats.

‘This,’ he said, ‘is the Secret Santa bucket. In each envelope there is a tenner and the name of one of us. It could be one of the lads – or one of us adults. We’re off Christmas shopping now and I want you to choose a ten-pound present for whoever’s name you get in the draw. OK?’

The whole team cheered.

Steve started to hand out the envelopes.

Connor opened his envelope first. ‘I got Ronan!’ he shouted.

Steve sighed. ‘Connor? Do you understand what secret means? It’s meant to be a secret who the present is from.’

Connor blushed deep red. ‘Sorry, Steve.’

Steve carried on giving out envelopes.

Jake was delighted to get Ryan. He’d come to like him recently. He wanted to get him something really good.

Yunis got Steve.

Ryan got Tomasz.

And James knew who he was going to get before he opened it, he just had a feeling. And he was right. His dad. Typical.

Since all the attention he’d got after the game, James had been feeling bad. Yes, he’d scored. Yes, he’d played well. But it didn’t change anything. In fact, he was even more determined now to give up football after all the praise he’d had. Too many people had his life planned out for him and he wanted to plan it himself.

He’d made up his mind.

Posh Shopping

They had to get the presents in a department store. Just the one shop, so there was no chance of getting lost on the streets.

‘Right, lads. You’ve got half an hour to choose a present and buy it. Do not leave the store. I will be here by the main doors the whole time. So if you need me, you know where I am.’

The department store was big. And posh. The Christmas decorations were huge, massive silver and gold and red tinsel stars hanging down. Strings of lights were cascading like waterfalls.

Jake and Yunis raced off to get their presents together.

‘Who’ve you got?’ Yunis asked.

‘You,’ replied Jake.

‘Really?’ Yunis said. ‘What are you going to get me?’

‘Some aftershave,’ Jake said, grinning.

‘What? No way,’ Yunis said. Then he saw Jake smiling. ‘Who have you really got?’

‘Ryan.’

‘I’ve got Steve,’ said Yunis.

‘Brilliant. What are you going to get him?’

‘Some carpet slippers? A pipe? A walking stick?’

Yunis and Jake laughed as they headed up an escalator.

As they did, they looked down and saw Craig. He was trying to walk up the escalator that was going downwards. A security guard was watching him, talking into his radio.

‘What’s he up to now?’ Yunis said to Jake.

Jake shrugged. ‘Who knows?’

‘Let’s get those presents,’ Yunis said, turning to go upwards.

James sat alone at the back of the coach, brooding. He’d not got his dad a present. The ten-pound note was still in its envelope, stuffed in his back pocket.

He was unhappy. Unsettled. Un-everything.

The thought of spending all evening with the rest of the team depressed him. He wanted to be alone, to think.

He stared out of the window as the coach moved off. Shops and more shops. Christmas trees. And the ice rink – just round the corner from their accommodation.

Three other lads were sitting near the back of the bus. They’d been with each other for most of the day. Craig, Daniel and Sam. They hadn’t noticed