Page Title

Synopsis

This story has approximately 50,000 words and is suitable for middle readers (age 10+).

Gemma Sutherland isn't happy. A year after the death of her mother, her dad has married Shelley who has a spoilt brat of a daughter called Portia. As if that wasn't enough they've moved house and Gemma has to go to Naylorsfield Comp where they don't play girls' football like they did at her old school. Frustrated with her new life, Gemma rebels, shocks her dad by becoming a Goth and vows to drive Shelley and Portia away. She also starts a campaign to introduce girls' football at school. Mr Cassidy, her PE teacher, lends his support and the other girls become interested, but Tyrone Collins, Shelley's big-headed nephew and the star of Naylorsfield's First Eleven, will do anything to prevent the girls from training or playing in fixtures. Meanwhile, a mystery forms involving Shelley and Mr Cassidy and Gemma sees her chance of getting rid of Shelley for good.

Sample

I stared round at the spectators. Quite a few kids and teachers had stayed behind to watch the match, wrapped up against the cold in their thick coats, fleece jackets or parkas, stamping their feet on the ground to keep their circulation going. A member of staff and a First Eleven sub had volunteered to act as Assistant Referees and were waiting on the touchlines with their flags.

"Look at this lot, all waiting for us to fall flat on our faces!" said Candice, wringing her hands.

As we appeared into view there was a roar of female voices and male boos, then laughter and pointing as they noticed our shirts. Some of the boys, led by Zack and Tommo, started to chant out the names of the Second Eleven, whilst the girls, including Amy Harper and her mates, tried to out-chant them with "Two, four, six, eight, who do we appreciate? G - I - R - L - S! YES! GIRLS!"

Frantically Amy waved me over.

"What happened to your kit?" she hissed.

"Sabotage."

"What?"

"Tell you later."

"Oi, Gem!" Tyrone shouted as he bounced up and down. "Got enough 'lazzy in your shorts this time?"

I smiled, lowered my shorts and showed him my knickers to roars of laughter.

"It didn't work, did it, Tyrone?" I shouted back.

Tyrone looked puzzled. "What?"

"You know very well!"

But he just shrugged and laughed. "Say your prayers, Golden Balls! This is going to be a walkover!"

"Sir!" Candice pulled at Mr Cassidy's sleeve.

"Yes, Candice?"

"I need the toilet, like, now!"

"Tch! Why didn't you go before you left the locker room?"

"I did!"

"Well you'll have to wait till half-time now. And is that a necklace you're wearing? Take it off at once and give it to Miss Shelby."

"I wear it for netball and hockey," Candice grumbled.

"Come on, girls, don't dawdle!" commanded Mrs Lawford. "Hurry up and take your positions. Tanya Grey!" Tanya had stopped to kiss an embarrassed Lee Barnes on the cheek and we all whistled. "This is a football match not a hot date! Get into your goal!"

"I was only wishing him luck," murmured Tanya sulkily.

"Whose side are you on, Tanya?" jeered Zack and everyone laughed at Tanya's scarlet face.

The ball was placed on the centre mark and Mrs Lawford tossed the coin. We lost the toss and Tyrone, the Second's Captain, pointed to the goal he wanted to attack.

"Girls to kick-off, then," said Mrs Lawford, holding the whistle to her mouth. "Ready, Gemma and Kristy?"

The whistle shrilled. I tapped the ball to Kristy who passed it on to Candice. Our very first competitive match had kicked off!

I had no idea what the record was for the earliest goal scored in a match but I reckon the Seconds came close to getting it. No sooner had we started than Josh Simpson rushed forward, won the ball from Candice and legged it towards our goal, cheered on by his fellow players and the male supporters. Candice screamed when she realised what had happened and chased after him.

"Get him, Candice!" I heard Tyrone yell. "He's pinched yer handbag!"

I could see Tanya dancing from side to side on the goal line, her arms outstretched, her face terrified. Josh was too fast for any of us to catch, dodging girls and getting to the penalty area without any opposition whatsoever. Then Tanya did the worst thing a keeper could possibly do. When Josh rammed the ball at the goal she ducked, covering her head with her arms. The ball flew past her body and landed in the net. One soft goal to them!

All I could hear as I held my head in my hands was the sound of male cheers. I looked through my fingers and saw Josh being mobbed by his team. The girls trooped dejectedly back to their starting positions and Mr Cassidy was rubbing his hands through his hair. Daz was shaking his head and Tanya was in tears.

The Second's kicked off at the restart and things went from bad to worse. We slid in mud, gasped at grazed knees, and whined when we fell face down in the dirt. In the space of twenty minutes we conceded fourteen corners and twelve free kicks. Candice continued to struggle with Josh's skill in getting away from her and I had a pretty tough time with Tyrone, although I had more experience in tackling for the ball, but I was unable to make a break forward and get near the lads' goal. I was getting frustrated and became increasingly more worn out, trying too hard to make up for the shortcomings of the others.

Our defence had no chance. Tyrone, Josh and Lee cut through us like a hot knife cuts through butter. It quickly became two-nil, three-nil (an own goal scored by one of our defence), four-nil, and Lee Barnes scored a fifth goal on the stroke of half time.

Poor Tanya. She might have been accused by some of deliberately letting in Lee's goal but she couldn't have saved it if she'd tried. After the second goal I had a quiet word in her ear about ducking when a shot was made and she tried not to do it again, but it didn't stop her from misjudging the direction of the ball so that it still went straight into the net. She also kept forgetting she shouldn't handle the ball outside the penalty area and was warned by Mrs Lawford if she kept doing it she would be sent off.

At half time, eleven hot, sweaty, muddy, exhausted girls limped off the pitch and collapsed on the ground at Mr Cassidy's feet.

"Gawd," I heard Daz mutter.

"Get up," ordered Mr Cassidy, dragging us to our feet one by one. I was so tired I was barely able to stand myself but Mr Cassidy wouldn't listen to our protests.

"Now get this," he said, "I know you're only beginners and this is your first real competitive match, and I didn't really expect you to beat the Seconds, but I was hoping you'd learnt something from your training sessions."

"We've only had two," I began.

"Shut up, Gemma, I'm talking!"

We guzzled down water thirstily as we were subjected to the lecture. Mr Cassidy counted our bad points on his fingers.

"You're sloppy. You're not working together. You're running out of position and losing the man you're supposed to be marking. You're not tackling for the ball. You're fouling. You're…"

"They're too fast and too good," protested Candice. "And we're knackered!"

"That doesn't matter," said Mr Cassidy. "This is your first match. You're bound to feel tired until you gain more experience in competition. The point is right now you're not even trying to play. You're afraid of the opposition and you're showing it. And Tanya, why do you keep ducking every time the ball comes at you? You're the keeper, you're supposed to try and stop it from going in!"

"Don't start on me!" Tanya's lip trembled. Her face was dirty where she had been wiping it with her muddy gloves and there were streaks where the tears had been running down her cheeks. "It's not my fault they kick the ball so bloody hard!"

Mr Cassidy sighed. "They're strikers, Tanya. That's their job!"

At the end of half time Mrs Lawford gave a sharp blow on her whistle. "Back on the pitch. Time for the second half."

We tried our absolute hardest but it was no use; the battle grew too dangerous for us. I managed to shake off Tyrone a couple of times and when I was brought down in the box I secured a penalty. I sent their goalie the wrong way and rammed it home, but at the final whistle our fate was sealed; we lost the match fourteen goals to one. The only good thing to come out of it was that none of us had been sent off or badly injured!