“Jamie!” his mum screeched up the stairs again.

“I said, in a minute!”

The more she shouted, the harder it was for him to concentrate. He was looking at his step-over drawings. “Step, shave and knock,” he said to himself as his feet flashed around an imaginary ball. He’d stuck them to his bedroom wall so they would be the last thing he saw at night and the first thing he saw in the morning. He packed his boots and a towel into his bag and opened his bedroom door.

“This is what happens if you’re too soft on him,” he could hear Jeremy saying. “It’s time for you to try tough love.”

“But he’s my baby, I can’t help it.”

Jamie banged his door shut and stomped down the stairs. He wanted them to know he’d heard them talking about him. “Tough love,” he repeated with contempt.

 

“I’m going out in a minute,” said Jamie as he came into the kitchen, putting his bag down on the floor. His mum and Jeremy were sitting at the table waiting for him. They were on the same side and they had put a chair opposite them for Jamie to sit in.

“Take a seat,” Jeremy said, pointing to the chair.

“I’m all right,” said Jamie. He stayed standing up.

“We’d like to know what all this is about.” Jamie’s mum said, handing him a letter. It was from the school, telling her that Jamie had been sent out of class for the second time this term.

“It’s nothing,” said Jamie, handing the letter back. “Just Claunt overreacting again. She probably had her period or something – I dunno.”

“Jamie!” his mum shouted. “Don’t talk like that. Overreacting to what?”

Jamie sighed. Why did he have to go through all this rubbish? He answered as if he were a robot; with as little feeling as possible.

“She asked me what job I was going to do when I was older and I told her the truth: that I’m going to be a professional footballer. Then she decided to send me out. That’s it. End of story. Can I go out now, please?”

Jamie’s mum looked at Jeremy as though she was giving him some kind of signal that they had talked about.

“How long is this going to go on for, Jamie,?” Jeremy asked. He was trying to put on his calm voice.

“How long is what going to go on for?”

“This stupid business about being a professional footballer. I’m sorry to have to say this, Jamie, but it’s for your own good: IT AIN’T GONNA HAPPEN, And the sooner you realize that, the better.”

“Who the hell are you anyway?” Jamie shouted, lashing out at the chair with a violent kick. His face had gone purple with rage. “You don’t know anything about football! And you don’t know anything about me. You’re not my dad and you never will be!”

“You’ve got to get in the real world, Jamie. I’m only saying this because I care.”

“Well, I don’t care about you!” Jamie raged, picking his bag up and slamming the front door shut behind him.