The Impossible Boy by Mark Griffiths

Author:Mark Griffiths [Griffiths, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780857075406
Publisher: Simon & Schuster

CHAPTER NINE

INJURY TIME

The side of Barney’s boot connected perfectly with the football. It made a tump sound. Barney loved that sound. It usually meant the ball was going to go exactly where he wanted it. In this case, he wanted the ball to sail majestically over the head of Adam Crabtree and just to the right of where Thomas Gilchrist, the goalkeeper, would dive, arms furiously outstretched, on to the cold dry mud of the goalmouth. And this is exactly what happened.

Thomas rose slowly to his feet and retrieved the ball from the net, muttering grimly in a Glaswegian accent.

‘Top scoring, dude!’ Barney’s team captain, Nick Goodwin, yelled and clapped Barney on the back.

Barney winced.Nick was one of those kids who referred to everyone as dude, including his mother, all teachers, and even, when he was putting them on before a game, his football boots. But Barney hated it.

‘Cheers,’ said Barney and jogged back to his side’s half of the pitch. He was not one for extravagant celebrations after scoring a goal. He didn’t run around the pitch with his shirt over his head or slide spectacularly along the grass on his knees, arms raised. He preferred merely to nod with quiet satisfaction and maybe indulge in a dignified handshake or two with his teammates. Anything more looked like showing off – and that wasn’t his style.

It was a bright, cold, early evening, perfect for football. Blue Hills High had sold its playing fields years ago so the school team always practised in the nearby park. They usually attracted a decent crowd while they were practising but the park was peculiarly empty this evening, with only the players’ coats and schoolbags dotting the perimeter of the pitch.

‘OK, dudes!’ Nick called to his team. ‘That makes two-all! One more goal, dudes! That’s all we need! One more little goal! Let’s do this, dudes!’

‘Yeah, dudes, called a mocking voice. Someone laughed. Nick ignored them.

The opposing team (who were, in fact, the other half of Blue Hills High’s squad as this was a practice game) took their positions for kick-off. Their captain, a squat, cocky kid called Dan Perch, placed the ball on the centre spot. He intended to give it a swift kick almost immediately, passing to midfielder Rob Yellowwood, but when Dan drew back his leg he was astonished to find the ball had gone. Assuming some freakish gust of wind, he searched around for it, without success.

‘Anyone seen the . . . er . . . ball?’ he called out, feeling a bit of an idiot.

‘Look!’ cried someone.

‘There!’ shouted another.

‘Blimey!’ yelled someone else.

‘Above your head!’ bellowed a fourth.

Dan looked upwards and was dumbstruck to find the ball floating quite contentedly in the air about twenty centimetres above his head. Furious, he grabbed it with both hands, as if the ball were somehow misbehaving on purpose and showing him up in front of his friends. But it refused to budge, however hard he yanked it, remaining steadfastly in position in the air.

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