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Chapters (75)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. About the Author
  4. Title Page
  5. Intoroduction
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. FIVE
  11. SIX
  12. SEVEN
  13. EITHT
  14. NINE
  15. TEN
  16. ELEVEN
  17. TWELVE
  18. THIRTEEN
  19. FOURTEEN
  20. FIFTEEN
  21. SIXTEEN
  22. SEVENTEEN
  23. EIGHTEEN
  24. NINETEEN
  25. TWENTY
  26. TWENTY-ONE
  27. TWENTY-TWO
  28. TWENTY-THREE
  29. TWENTY-FOUR
  30. TWENTY-FIVE
  31. TWENTY-SIX
  32. TWENTY-SEVEN
  33. TWENTY-EIGHT
  34. TWENTY-NINE
  35. THIRTY
  36. THIRTY-ONE
  37. THIRTY-TWO
  38. THIRTY-THREE
  39. THIRTY-FOUR
  40. THIRTY-FIVE
  41. THIRTY-SIX
  42. THIRTY-SEVEN
  43. THIRTY-EIGHT
  44. THIRTY-NINE
  45. FORTY
  46. FORTY-ONE
  47. FORTY-TWO
  48. FORTY-THREE
  49. FORTY-FOUR
  50. FORTY-FIVE
  51. FORTY-SIX
  52. FORTY-SEVEN
  53. FORTY-EIGHT
  54. FORTY-NINE
  55. FIFTY
  56. FIFTY-ONE
  57. FIFTY-TWO
  58. FIFTY-THREE
  59. FIFTY-FOUR
  60. FIFTY-FIVE
  61. FIFTY-SIX
  62. FIFTY-SEVEN
  63. FIFTY-EIGHT
  64. FIFTY-NINE
  65. SIXTY
  66. SIXTY-ONE
  67. SIXTY-TWO
  68. SIXTY-THREE
  69. SIXTY-FOUR
  70. SIXTY-FIVE
  71. SIXTY-SIX
  72. SIXTY-SEVEN
  73. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  74. CLIMATE EMERGENCY
  75. Copyright

I was never the best or most important player in the team, nor was I the worst, so I don’t think the team have hugely missed me. I used to enjoy playing though. I was what you’d call ‘solid’. A dependable, mid-field player who would scrap for the ball and then, normally, do something half decent with it. Not going on a run, beating three players and slotting the ball into the other team’s net, but giving it to someone who could, or sending the ball out wide, into a space I’d noticed was empty but was sure our wingback could get to. Dad used to say that there weren’t many players that could spot those passes, and that I made them more often than the rest of the team put together. I wasn’t sure about this. Dad said I should get used to being under-appreciated.

For a while I’d tried to keep playing. Mum still came along, but she didn’t shout anything anymore. I got the impression she wasn’t really watching. I realised then how much football had been a part of her life too. Watching her standing on the touchline there in the rain, staring out into the middle distance, it felt like I was drowning. The worst bit was knowing she was just trying to keep something alive for me, and that every second was killing her. When I said I was going to stop, she tried her best not to look relieved.

Jamie and I didn’t fall out, just stopped talking, and we still nod at each other in the corridors. Jamie knew that people had started treating me differently, even though he never did. We’re still in a lot of classes together, and the teachers’ habits of keeping us apart lower down the school (when we used to talk a lot) have been carried over to this year as well. Even though I don’t really speak to anyone, not anymore.

I’m sitting just behind Jamie in our English class, the test I’d revised for last night about to start, when he turns around.

‘You coming?’

‘What?’

‘Friday. Are you going to come? You’re invited.’

‘To your house?’

‘You remember where it is, right?’ Jamie smiles.

I smile back. ‘Maybe.’

And that’s it. Moment over. He goes back to his work, chatting to Louisa sitting next to him. He says something that sounds like ‘I tried’. She looks concerned.