Missing!

Contents

Cover

About the Book

Title Page

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

About the Author

Also by Bali Rai

Copyright

COME ON, YOU REDS! COME ON, YOU REDS!
'

Jason, Dal, Abs and Chris joined Rushton Reds – a new youth club squad – at the beginning of the season, but the team has lost their first two matches! They're all brilliant players, but they're missing chances all over the place. Jason has even missed a penalty . . .

Their coaches say soccer is about team play – and they have a great idea for a team-building exercise. But can it help the Reds win their next match?

Gripping football action from award-winning author Bali Rai.

‘
FOOTBALL IS ALL
about passion,' one of our coaches, Mr Turner, said to us. ‘Passion, pride and playing for each other . . .'

We were sitting in our local youth club, going over why we'd lost two games out of two in the junior league and I was worried. My team, the Rushton Reds, was different from the others. We had girls playing for us.
Girls.

‘Are you listening to me, Jason?' Mr Turner asked me.

I nodded and shrugged at the same time. My mates were there with me: Dal, Chris and Abs, as well as the rest of the lads.
And
the girls . . .

‘I think we need to practise defending,' said one of the girls, Lily. She's OK, but she's got a big mouth and she never stops talking.

‘Thanks for that,' said our second coach, Mr James.

‘Yes – we'll definitely do that,' said the third coach, an American lady called Miss Rice.

‘And I think shooting too,' added Lily. ‘I mean, how are we supposed to win if we don't score goals?'

‘Yes, Lily,' replied Mr Turner, with a smile.

I turned to Abs and sighed.

‘Stupid girl,' he whispered as Miss Rice stood up from her chair.

‘Soccer is about team play,' she said. ‘And
we just aren't playing as a team, y'all,' Miss Rice added.

‘
Football,
miss!' said Chris.

‘Potayto, potarto,'
replied Miss Rice in a silly voice. ‘You may call it football, but to the rest of the world it's soccer . . . got it?'

Chris nodded.

‘We're gonna get stuffed in every game,' whispered Dal.

This time I shrugged. We didn't
have
to lose the next game. It wasn't certain. We just had to play better. But how were we going to do that with girls in the team?

Me and my friends – Dal, Abs and Chris – had joined the Rushton Reds, a new team, at the beginning of the season. Abs and Chris are wicked strikers, whilst Dal plays in defence. I'm a midfielder. We'd been so excited at making the squad and then playing in the starting eleven. But that had
changed. And quickly too. Because of a freak wave of injuries to some of the other lads, we'd ended up having to play with girls in the team. And to make it worse, one of our coaches, Miss Rice, had told one of her friends about it. A friend who worked for the local TV station.

‘It'll make great TV,' she'd explained to the team. ‘They're going to come and watch a training session and maybe even a game. If they like what they see, they may make a film about you. You might all get to be interviewed too!'

‘Will it be on proper telly, miss?' Dal had asked.

‘If they go ahead and make the film,' Miss Rice had replied.

‘Will we get money for it?' asked Abs. ‘Like proper players?'

‘Don't be silly, Abs,' Lily had told him.

‘What's more sillier than girls playing
football?' he'd asked.

‘You playing football,' one of the other girls, Parvy, had added.

‘Or using odd phrases like “more sillier”,' Lily had continued.

And now here we were – talking about how rubbish we'd been so far – and how we might end up on the telly. Great! If that went ahead, everyone I knew would find out. The Rushton Reds were going to be one big joke. Not only were we losing games, but we had girls playing too!

‘We need to stop missing our chances,' Mr Turner said, getting back to the football.

Everyone nodded. Except for me and another player called Steven. We didn't nod because we'd both missed chances already. From the penalty spot! In the same game too – our second of the season! Which we had lost, just like we'd lost our first match.

‘I'll take the penalties next time!' shouted Abs. ‘I would have
buried
the two that
they
missed.' He nodded towards me an Steven.

‘Now, now,' said Mr James. ‘There's no need to pick on anyone. It's a team game, as Miss Rice has just told us.'

Abs pulled a face.

‘And that's what we are going to concentrate on this evening,' Mr Turner told us. ‘So go and get changed and we'll see you outside.'

I stood up and followed the rest of the lads to the changing room.

‘Hey, Jason, now that the injured players are fit again we don't need the girls anyway,' Abs said as we walked in.

Dal shook his head. ‘Four of the original squad have left already,' he reminded Abs.

It was true. After our first game, some of
the other boys hadn't come back. And there were even fewer after the second game.

‘So it looks like we're stuck with the girls,' Dal added.

Chris opened a packet of peanuts and stuffed them all into his mouth. He's cool, Chris. He's always smiling or eating nuts. When he'd swallowed them he counted the number of players in the changing room.

‘There's twelve of us – Steven, Byron, Leon, Corky, Ben, Pete, Ant and Gurinder plus us four. So even with the girls, including the new one, Gem, we've only got seventeen players,' he said.

‘What happens if we get more injuries?' asked Abs.

‘More girls probably,' I replied.

‘That's not fair!' squealed Abs, sounding like he was five rather than ten years old.

‘That's enough,' said Mr James, who'd
just walked into the changing room. ‘Let's concentrate on the next game.'

‘Yeah,' said Chris, with a grin. ‘Stop complaining like a baby, Abs, and listen.'

Abs gave Chris a glare but didn't say anything else.

Our next match was against another team which was new to the league – just like ours.

They were called Langton Blues and they hadn't won a game yet either. So I was feeling confident.

‘We're going to do something a little bit different today,' Mr James told us. ‘Now hurry up and get changed . . .'

‘What are we doing?' asked Dal.

‘Dancing,' replied Mr James with a smile.

‘Dancing?'
I said. ‘Why are we going to be—?'

But Mr James had already left the room.

‘This is getting stranger and stranger,' Dal said to me.

‘We'll be wearing skirts next,' added Abs. ‘You wait and see.'

But we didn't really dance when the training session began. It just looked like we were. Mr Turner put us in pairs and got us to face each other. I was with Abs. The coach told us to put our arms out and our hands on each other's shoulders. Then he gave us a number. I was number one and Abs was number two. Each of the pairs was the same too.

‘Now keep at arm's length,' instructed Mr Turner. ‘When I shout your number, I want you to run forwards. Your partner will follow you. You must not let go of your partner's shoulders.'

I was confused. ‘I don't get it, sir,' I complained.

‘It's simple, Jason,' said Miss Rice. ‘Each of you will lead the other. If we shout "one!" then it's your turn to run forwards
and Abs will run backwards. When the whistle blows, you switch immediately and Abs runs forwards with you going backwards.'

I shrugged. ‘That's about as clear as mud!' I told her.

‘Don't be silly,' I heard Lily say. I turned my head and saw that she was behind me, with Parvy as her partner. ‘Look – we'll show you.'

She started to run forwards and at the same time Parvy matched her stride for stride. Only Parvy was going backwards. After a few seconds Miss Rice blew her whistle and they switched. This time Parvy ran forwards and Lily matched her steps.

‘It's all about coordination,' Mr James told us.

‘And us girls have got it . . .' said Parvy.

‘OK,' added Mr Turner, looking at me. ‘Get ready. On my whistle, I want all the number ones to run forwards. Each time I blow on it, I want you to switch.'

I nodded at him.

‘Go!' he shouted before blowing on his whistle.

I started to run forwards slowly and Abs tried to match my steps. But I'm taller than Abs and I've got longer legs so he couldn't keep up. After about ten steps he fell over in the mud.