On the Spot (2 page)

“See you later,” he told Geno.

Geno waved vaguely with his fork. It was pasta, his favourite, and he wasn't about to hurry.

Roddy caught up with Marcel outside, and fell into step with him.

“I'm sorry life's a pain at the moment,” he said. “You've got a double whammy,
what with Roberts and having to share with those three.”

Marcel shrugged. “Brett and Andy aren't so bad when they're not with Jack,” he said.

“Well, if you want to try and move rooms again, I'll go with you to see Mr Clutterbuck,” Roddy offered awkwardly.

Marcel looked at him in surprise. “What good would that do?” he asked. “He's already told me there's nowhere to go.”

Now it was Roddy's turn to shrug. “We could suggest putting an extra bed in our room.”

“Clutterbuck's not going to do that!” said Marcel. “There'd hardly be any floor space.”

“Well, there must be
something
we can do,” said Roddy, trying to think. “We can still go and see him – explain what a pain Jack is. He'll do something when he realises.”

“No,” said Marcel. “It doesn't matter.”

“It
does
,” insisted Roddy. “We're both in the same house. We play for the same team. Charltonites should stick together.”

Marcel stopped walking. “No,” he said flatly. “It really
doesn't
matter.”

“But…” Roddy spread his arms wide. “I want to help!”

“It's too late,” said Marcel. He looked round to see if anyone was listening. “I don't want this to get out. Promise you won't say anything?”

“Of course,” said Roddy. “What is it?”

“I'm leaving on Friday,” said Marcel. “My parents are coming to pick me up.”

Roddy stared. He couldn't believe his ears. Marcel was leaving Stadium School at the end of the first week of term!

“It's not just Jack,” said Marcel, seeing Roddy's expression. “I'm not sure I'm cut out to be a professional footballer after all. I miss
my family and, oh, lots of things. I don't even like the food very much.”

“I can't believe it!” said Roddy.

Marcel looked fierce. “Don't say anything to
anyone
. If this gets out, people will go on and on about it, and Jack will make my last two nights an absolute misery. I mean it. If you tell anyone, I'll
kill
you.”

“Don't worry,” said Roddy. “I'll keep it to myself. But … I'm sorry you're going.”

“Yeah, well, I don't see my future spending hours in the shower cleaning mud off myself,” said Marcel. “I really enjoyed football when it was just a game, but here it's too serious. There's more to life, you know?” He smiled sadly. “But that's just what
I
think. You're seriously good. So stick at it. And maybe I'll come and see you some time, when you're playing an international against France, and I'm working in an office or something.”

Roddy chuckled. “Yeah, right,” he said. “Here's hoping.”

Just then, Marek and Jimmy appeared round the corner of the building.

“Don't forget,” Marcel warned.

“Don't worry,” said Roddy. “You can count on me.”

Marcel hurried away and Roddy waited for his friends to catch him up.

“What did Marcel want?” asked Jimmy, dribbling a loose stone along the path.

“Oh, nothing,” Roddy said. “He was just telling me how he doesn't like pasta very much.”

Marek looked as if he was going to laugh, but the expression on Roddy's face stopped him. “What's the matter?”

Roddy tried to shrug it off, but his mind was working overtime. Now, suddenly, he realised that they wouldn't just have an
off-form goalie for the match against Stiles next week. It was worse than that, much worse. This time next week, they wouldn't have a goalie at all.

It was terrible for Roddy, not being able to discuss what he knew with his Charlton team-mates, especially Keira. As their captain, she would be appalled when she found out. Stadium School was small, and it was hard enough trying to muster full house teams without a vital student leaving. Roddy wondered what Sam, the senior who coached their team, would do.

Roddy's head was filled with Charlton's goalkeeping problem every spare minute. On his way to French the next day, he considered the backs. Would one of them be any good in goal? Jimmy had the size, but he wasn't very agile, and Jess was lacking in height, if not
courage. Besides, if either of those two became goalie, the team would miss their brilliant defending. The Charlton match against Stiles was the following Saturday, but there was hardly time to sort anything out. First-team training took precedence over house practices, and Mr Jenkins was scheduling extra sessions to get them ready for their first match against Leeds in just over five weeks' time.

In order to help the squad gel, that afternoon Mr Jenkins led them all on a jog around the lake. Despite the chilly weather, it was good to be running somewhere other than round the pitches for a change. Roddy and Geno were jogging steadily near the back of the group and, as they passed a puddle side by side, Geno deliberately stamped into the water, sending a jet shooting up Roddy's leg. Geno flashed a
cheeky grin at his friend, before putting his head down and setting off at full speed, with an indignant Roddy in hot pursuit.

Marcel had been running alone, just behind the pair, panting a little. As a goalkeeper, he wasn't used to running for more than a couple of minutes during matches. He had just dropped his pace, when Jack Carr barged past him, sending him staggering towards the muddy edge of the lake. Unlike Geno, who had been fooling around, Jack had clearly meant to upset the French boy.

Marcel squelched out of the mud and resumed his half-hearted run at the back of the squad as Jack sprinted off, laughing.

Marcel managed to keep his secret until the Friday afternoon, when he began to pack. It was Jack who found him, stuffing the last of
his belongings into a suitcase. Roddy's heart sank as he heard the bully crashing along the corridor, shouting the news to each room.

Geno looked up from his book. “What is that idiot on about now? We don't care about his latest scandal.”

The next moment, Jack burst in, flinging the door open so hard that it hit the wall. “Guess what!” he shouted. “Temperley is running away from school!”

Marek looked at him disapprovingly. “Not interested,” he said.

Jack laughed. “Well, you
should
be,” he said. “What's your precious Charlton team going to do without a goalie?”

That got Marek's attention, and Geno's and Jimmy's as well.

“What are you on about?” said Jimmy, looking alarmed.

“Poor little Marcel is too much of a baby
to cope,” said Jack nastily. “So he's running away! Honestly. He's packed up all his stuff. How spineless is that? He's leaving his teammates in the lurch! Not that I care…”

“He's
not
running away,” said Roddy quietly. “His parents are coming to collect him. It's all arranged.”

Now everyone was staring at Roddy.

“You
knew?”
said Jimmy. “You should have told us. We've got a match next week. Sam will need to sort out who to put in goal!”

“You should have told us,” said Geno angrily.

“I couldn't!” said Roddy. “Marcel made me promise not to.”

Jack was still there, taking it all in, and clearly loving every minute.

“Clear off, Carr!” said Marek angrily. “This is nothing to do with you.” He pushed
Jack out of the door and slammed it shut. “Now,” he said, turning to Roddy. “What's going on?”

Roddy aimed a kick at the leg of his bed in frustration. “It's not
my
fault,” he said. “Now it's out in the open, instead of blaming me, why don't we go and find Sam. As our coach, she's the one who really needs to know.”

“Couldn't you have persuaded Marcel to stay?” said Jimmy. “It's going to be hell defending with no goalie.”

Roddy gave him a withering look.

Geno fished under his bed for his trainers, and started to put them on. “Roddy's right,” he said. “We need to tell Sam.”

The four friends hurried over to the girls' boarding house. Sam could be anywhere on a Friday, now lessons had finished, but maybe someone would know where she was.

Roddy rang the bell, and they waited
impatiently. But they were in luck. The girl who answered the door told them that Sam was in, and after a few minutes, their coach came out to see them.

“What's the problem?” she asked.

“We're in deep trouble,” Roddy told her gloomily. “Our goalie's doing a bunk.”

“No way!” said Sam. “Hang on, I'll just go and get Keira. She needs to be in on this.”

Moments later, Sam reappeared with the Charlton captain in tow, and the girls listened as Roddy explained what had happened.

“That certainly is bad news,” Sam agreed. “But we mustn't let it throw us.”

“It's a
disaster!”
said Geno.

“Where are we going to get another goalie from?” said Keira. “We've only got just enough players as it is.”

“I tell you what,” Sam decided. “Tomorrow we'll get the whole team
together, and everyone can try out for goalie. You never know, we might find a multi-talented player in our ranks.”

“Yeah, right,” muttered Jimmy.

“It's the best we can do,” said Sam. “It's always tricky finding enough players for inter-house games, but I'm sure we'll find
someone
to go in goal. Besides, we're a stronger team than Stiles, we ought to win the match easily. We'll just have to make sure we don't give our keeper too much to do, whoever they are.” She smiled. “Cheer up, all of you. These things happen in football. It's a test of character. We'll manage somehow.”

The boys nodded, and Keira looked determined. “Charlton for ever!” she said firmly. “Don't let's lose heart.”

In the morning, Mr Clutterbuck announced that every Charlton first year was to meet on
the practice pitch at two o'clock. Word had spread that Marcel had left, and everyone was wondering how the house would manage without him.

“Hard luck losing Marcel,” said Dij, who was in Banks House. “I hope you find a good replacement.”

Jack was less sympathetic. “We're going to trash you next Saturday,” he crowed.

“Leave it,” said Roddy, pulling Jimmy away. “You know Jack would just love it if you started a fight.”

Jimmy shook him off. “Let's go then,” he growled angrily.

Over at the pitch, most of the girls were there already.

Ashanti came up to Roddy straight away. “This is terrible,” she said. “Keira told me last night. And now the whole school knows, what with Jack shooting his great mouth off
at breakfast. Marcel has really gone, has he? He didn't even say goodbye!”

“He left last night,” Roddy told her. “He'd kept it quiet, so Jack wouldn't give him any aggro about it. I think he just wanted to disappear, once he'd made his mind up.”

“It's a shame,” said Keira. “He was a good goalkeeper.”

Before they could say anything else, Sam appeared. “OK you lot,” she said briskly. “You all know by now that we've lost our goalie. So we'd better find another one. I'm going to put you all in goal. No exceptions. And we'll see who comes out best. The one who does will be our keeper next Saturday against Stiles. Once that hurdle is over, we can take a longer look at the situation. I think Moore have got an extra goalie in your year, and we might be able to get him transferred to Charlton.”

“But they'll need him while Tom Larsson's injured,” Roddy pointed out. “Couldn't we have Glen Hardcastle on loan?”

Everybody laughed. Glen Hardcastle was the goalkeeper for Charlton senior boys. In fact, he was the best goalkeeper Stadium School had.