Stephens Raz Beri

1. Auflage 2024
ISBN: 978-1-915444-62-2
Verlag: Firefly Press Ltd
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 192 Seiten

Billy has Cerebral Palsy and he's had enough of his classmates treating him differently. But then Mia arrives and announces a school visit from her uncle: a famous footballer. Maybe being a star footballer in front of his classmates will help Billy prove to his class that he can be just like them. But when even the famous footballer turns out to be just as bad as the school bullies, Billy begins to realise that perhaps he doesn't need to prove anything to anyone but himself.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Stephens, Matt

Leseproben

1.
Boring and Interesting, Horrible and Amazing

School today was … interesting. Well, some of it was AMAZING; some of it was HORRIBLE; some of it was very, very INTERESTING. And of course, most of it was seriously BORING. It is still school, after all.

Let’s start with the BORING, get it out of the way: the Tudors and the Stuarts; stylistic conventions of non-fiction; acids, bases and alkalis; converting metric and imperial measurements; teacher after teacher going on and on and on … interested? Then you’re reading the wrong book. Is there the tiniest chance that I’m going to need any of that stuff in my adult life? Really?

I certainly don’t need it in my teenage life and yes, I am, amazingly, several days into my teenhood: Billy Turpin, thirteen last week. A nation rejoiced. Well, a tiny corner of Willesden Junction, north-west London did anyway. I’ll tell you about the living hell that was my party later.

For now, let’s tackle the AMAZING. Registration this morning: dull, standard, not amazing at all. Mr Balotelli, our group tutor: tall, dull, standard, not amazing at all, but nice. I like Mr Balotelli. He doesn’t mock, like Mr Moore and Ms Do Nascimento; he doesn’t bore, like Mr Lawrenson, Miss Savage, Mrs Claridge and the rest; he doesn’t shout, like Misters Marsh and Bowles. I’ll come back to all of them…

Mr Balotelli said, ‘Listen up everybody, you will not believe what is going to happen in two weeks’ time…’

Some of the kids, like me, looked up and gave him our full attention. I’m generally good in class, always quiet, and definitely not cool. The ‘cool’ kids, led by (The Evil) Rio, yawned and chatted and sniggered and stared at the ceiling. Rio looks and dresses like a model. He ran his hand through his shiny black hair and looked at his mobile. Mr Balotelli is scared of Rio and doesn’t tell him off for it. If I looked at my mobile in class, it would be confiscated.

‘Well, if you’re not interested…’ said Mr Balotelli. ‘I can easily find some other work for you to do when the captain of the England football team comes into school.’

OMG. Even Rio and his followers were listening now.

‘What?’ said Rio. ‘Shut up! You don’t mean Danny Cash?’

Mr Balotelli nodded his balding head and smiled his sad smile.

Danny  Cash:  my  absolute  hero.  Incredible, amazing, awesome. I had twenty-three pictures of him on my bedroom wall. And I wanted more. The great Danny Cash: captain of England and captain of Earl’s Court FC. My team. My passion. My bedroom is painted in the ECFC colours: yellow and blue, like Brazil. My duvet is yellow and my pillowcases are blue. I’ve got pictures of the whole squad on my wall, but Danny Cash was the star by a mile. Still is. He’s strong and stocky with a cuboid head (wow, I used a word that I learned in school – maybe it’s not all completely useless) and has more talent in his left foot than the whole Manchester United squad put together.

‘Danny Cash?’ said Rio. ‘The Danny Cash is coming here?’

‘That’s right, Rio,’ said Mr Balotelli. ‘The Danny Cash is coming to our school. And not just Danny Cash, Gary Reed and Nicky Dulgence are coming too. They’ll be running a training session in double PE on Wednesday the tenth.’

Gary Reed and Nicky Dulgence are Danny Cash’s Earl’s Court and England teammates. They’re awesome too. Just not quite so awesome. I’ve got twelve pictures of Nicky Dulgence on my wall and nine of Gary Reed.

Mr Balotelli grinned while the class just went nuts. Kids were jumping out of their seats, whooping, grabbing each other, saying things like ‘wicked’ and ‘sick’ and ‘omigod’.

I was nearly making the right noises myself too, but no one wanted to hug or high-five me. They never do these days.

Rio said, above the commotion, ‘Mr Balotelli, sir, how come? How comes we got England players coming into our class?’

Mia, the new girl, was smiling quietly. Mr Balotelli walked over to her, put his hand on her wheelchair and said to the class, ‘You might want to reflect for a moment on Mia’s surname.’

I’d already been reflecting on Mia’s lovely dark brown eyes, which was something of a new experience for me.

Mia smiled and simultaneously hissed, ‘Don’t touch my wheelchair, sir.’

Mr B went red and quickly removed his hand. No one else noticed. They were thinking about the new girl’s name.

‘What is it?’ said (Horrible) Hisham, Rio’s mate. ‘Cash. Mia Cash, like Danny Cash … noooooo.’

‘Yeeeeees,’ said Mia.

She’s so gutsy. So not like me. She’s new but she speaks up in front of the class, answers teachers back, stands up to anyone. Even Rio. You know, if she could stand.

Mia said, ‘My Uncle Danny would do anything for me.’

She grinned some more while the class went crazy, all over again. Kids were whirling in each other’s arms. Another of Rio’s disciples, (Lame Brain) Liam, grabbed Mia’s wheelchair from behind and spun her around in a circle. Mia’s face turned scary as she reached behind her and grabbed Liam’s kneecap. You could see the tips of her fingers digging in behind the bone. Liam’s eyes opened wide.

‘You let go of my chair NOW,’ said Mia, ‘or you never play football again.’

‘Sorry Mia, sorry Mia,’ said Liam. Rio laughed so everyone followed suit. Including me, damn it.

Rio makes my life a misery; I can’t believe we used to be friends at primary school. Just a year or so ago. Before he learned to be ‘cool’. Before he learned that hanging around with me was the opposite of cool. Everyone followed his lead – they always do – and here I am, Billy-No-Mates.

‘That’s OK, Liam,’ said Mia. ‘As long as you understand that if I want you to move my wheelchair, I’ll ask you.’

Liam nodded and then nodded some more.

‘Do you have anything else, Liam, that you’d rather wasn’t grabbed hold of and twisted through 360 degrees?’ Mia had pulled her wheelchair around so she could glare at him.

Liam stared stupidly. Grinning, Rio said, ‘Bruv, this is where you say, “yes Mia”.’

Liam nodded again. He seems to be pretty good at that.

‘I’m glad we understand each other,’ said Mia, letting go. Wow, coolage.

She really is something.

‘OK, settle down everybody please,’ said Mr Balotelli. ‘I need you to line up for assembly now and start thinking about how we can prepare for our famous guests. We’ll discuss it in geography this afternoon.’

Mr Balotelli takes us for geography as well as being our group tutor. Normally it’s about meanders, scree slopes and population density. Talking football would be one major improvement.

So that was the AMAZING. Shall we do INTERESTING or HORRIBLE next? Ah stuff it, let’s get HORRIBLE out of the way…

The line at the door was buzzing. I couldn’t join it because there were chairs in the way and no one had remembered to move them for me. Oh yeah, didn’t I mention? I use a wheelchair too. I’ve got cerebral palsy. Cerebral palsy, or CP, is caused by brain damage as a tiny child or unusual development in the womb. Millions of people have it. It causes problems with muscles and co-ordination. With me, I find it really hard to use my legs. Also, when I talk, it comes out sounding funny. Kind of laboured and squeaky, like I’m an idiot or something. I’m not. Like I don’t know what I’m talking about. I do. The thoughts I have are as good as anyone’s. Better even. It’s just when I express them, I sound like a cartoon character so I hate speaking up.

I was left behind. Again. The class all headed off to the science block. Mr Balotelli saw my problem and cleared the way.

‘Hurry up now, Billy. You’ll be late.’

‘Yes, sir.’

All through the morning, no one talked about anything but football and the famous players we had visiting. At break time, everyone was playing football. Even some of the teachers. There were games springing up left, right and centre and I was desperate to be part of one. I hung around the edge of the biggest. Obviously, it was the one Rio and his mates were playing. Obviously, that was a stupid idea.

The ball ricocheted off (Sweaty) Scott’s knee and bounced towards me. I caught it and everyone cheered. That was such a good feeling. It made me bold; it made me stupid. It made me say,...