“This is Oliver,” said Mrs Gregson, introducing the lanky, red-haired boy to her class on Monday morning. “Say hello, everyone.”
There were only a few mumbles in response, and Ollie felt his face on fire as the children stared at him.
“Right, Oliver,” the teacher went on quickly. “Come this way.”
Mrs Gregson led the new boy through the maze of tables to where she wanted him to sit. She knew there would be a spare place next to Sadiq in the far corner, even in her overcrowded classroom. Ollie did not quite make it. A leg shot out to trip him up and he toppled over like a chopped-down tree.
“Tim-ber!” cried one of the boys nearby.
A ripple of giggles soon turned into a wave of laughter as Ollie slowly picked himself up off the floor and rubbed his sore knee.
“Be quiet!” said Mrs Gregson crossly, not knowing who was to blame. “Take Oliver into the book corner, please, Sadiq, and help him find something to read.”
Ollie limped across the room, watching out for any more stray legs.
“C’mon, hurry up!” Sadiq hissed, as Ollie peered at the racks of shelves. “Don’t take all day.”
“There’s such a lot of books,” said Ollie. “I love reading, don’t you?”
“No – it’s boring.”
Ollie stood up straight in surprise, towering over Sadiq, who was leaning against the wall.
“You can’t really mean that.”
“I always mean what I say,” Sadiq replied, “and say what I mean.”
While Ollie tried to work out the difference, Sadiq went on talking.
“That’s why the other kids don’t much like me. I speak my mind and tell the truth.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Because most of them don’t. They often lie to try and get me into trouble.”
“Well, I won’t do that,” Ollie promised. “Huh!” Sadiq grunted in response. “We’ll see.”
Ollie pulled a soccer book off the top shelf. “This looks good. I like sports stories.”
Sadiq stared up at him. “Why are you so tall?”
Ollie looked down at him and grinned. “Why are you so small?”
Sadiq actually returned the grin. “C’mon, Matchstick Man,” he said, with a playful push. “Let’s get back to our table, before Greg gives me another job to do.”
Sadiq’s next job was to show Ollie how the dinner system worked.
“What do you think of the food, then, Matchstick Man?” he asked.
“OK,” Ollie replied. “What there is of it, anyway.”
“You mean, you want more of this muck?”
Ollie nodded. “Yeah, we often had seconds at my old school.”
“It’s a wonder you’re not fat.”
“I run it all off,” he grinned. “Y’know, playing football and stuff.”
“You any good?” Sadiq asked.
“OK, I guess.”
“You keep saying that.”
“What?”
“OK.”
“Well, they are my initials,” Ollie told him. “My name’s Oliver Kenning. Some kids even used to call me OK.”
“Might do that myself,” Sadiq chuckled.
“Well, guess it’s better than Matchstick Man,” Ollie said with a shrug. “Have you got a nickname?” Sadiq ignored the question as Simon joined them at their table.
“Hiya, Ollie. How’s your first morning gone?”
“Slowly,” he said, his mouth full of food.
Sadiq watched in disgust as Simon tipped tomato ketchup onto his chips. He pushed his own plate to one side.
“Aren’t you Nails’ kid brother?” he asked, and Simon nodded. “He’s away today. What’s up with him?”
“Sick,” said Simon. “He was in bed most of the weekend.”
“It’s a lot quieter without him messing about in class and talking all the time.”
“Yeah, bet it is. Think yourself lucky you don’t have to put up with all that at home like me.”
“Poor you!”
“Just as well he played on Saturday,” said Ollie. “You wouldn’t have won without him.”
“We!” Simon reminded him, and they chuckled.
“Yeah, right – we,” Ollie agreed. “When’s the footie practice this week? Can’t wait to join in.”
“Wednesday, after school – so long as there isn’t a game.”
Simon hadn’t even thought about that. He’d never been to one before.
“Dunno,” he mumbled, and started to tuck into his chips.
“Do you go, Sadiq?” asked Ollie.
“Nah, not really bothered,” he said with a shrug. “Never been invited, anyway.”
“Well, why don’t we all go?” Ollie suggested. “C’mon, it’d help me too.”
They looked at one another.
“Might do,” said Sadiq.
Simon grinned. “Yeah, why not? Anything to annoy Captain Kevin!”
At that moment, two girls came by their table. One of them pushed the other into Sadiq, making him spill his glass of water.
“Watch it!” he complained.
“Got a mate at last, have you, Saddo?” laughed Katie. “Bet it won’t be for long.”
“You look a right pair,” Emma cackled. “Little Saddo and the giant beanpole!”
The girls went on their way giggling, and Ollie sensed that Sadiq was hurt by their remarks.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t call you Saddo.”
Sadiq flashed him a grateful smile.
“Names never really bother me,” Ollie told him. “Y’know, sticks and stones and all that. I got called all sorts of things at my old school.”
Sadiq nodded. “Thanks,” he said. “You’re OK, you are!”
The three boys arranged to have a kickabout together in the park after school. Sadiq enjoyed showing off his ball-juggling skills. He normally practised alone in his garden, and could keep the ball in the air far more times than either Ollie or Simon.
“I’m better with my head than my feet,” confessed Ollie, as he lost control yet again.
“And I’m better with my hands!” Simon laughed.
“OK, then,” said Ollie. “Let’s see how good you are in goal.”
Simon pointed towards the trees. “My brothers use those two over there as a goal,” he told them. “They’re about the right distance apart.”
“I’ll hit crosses for OK to try and score a few headers,” said Sadiq.
“He’ll have to get them past me first,” Simon replied, grinning.
“No trouble!” laughed Ollie.
Actually he had plenty of trouble, until Sadiq found his range and his crosses with both left and right feet became more accurate. Ollie spent more time fetching the stray ball than heading it.
“We need your Tilly here as a ball-girl,” he joked. “Where is she, anyway?”
“Left her at home so she wouldn’t get in the way,” Simon said. “But she didn’t like me going without her. I could still hear her yelping when I was up the road.”
When Ollie did manage to get his head to the ball and hit the target, Simon made a number of decent saves. It must have been about their tenth effort before he was beaten as the ball flew beyond his reach.
“Over the bar,” he claimed.
“Rubbish!” retorted Ollie. “Right in the top corner, that would’ve been.”
Simon continued to save more headers than he let in but, as the two attackers developed more of an understanding, their success rate increased. Ollie began to time his runs better and meet Sadiq’s crosses with more power.
“Goooaaalll!” he whooped again, as the ball zipped past Simon’s dive.
Woof!
The ball-girl had arrived, her lead trailing behind her through the long grass, closely followed by a furious Jake.
“She jerked the lead right out of my hand,” he cried.
Tilly nosed the ball back to Simon, who was still lying on the ground, then tried to lick his face. He knelt up and fussed her.
“Good girl!”
“She’s not a good girl,” Jake complained. “She nearly pulled my arm off.”
“Why are you here, anyway?” asked Simon. “Come to do some talent-spotting?”
“As if!” Jake retorted. “Daft dog’s been making so much noise since you went that Mum told me to take her out. Knew I’d find you here, so she’s all yours now.”
Ollie came over to fuss Tilly. “You can join in, if you want, Jake,” he offered.
“Nah! I’m off to see my mates,” he said, making it clear that he didn’t include any of the present trio in that company. “Smart header, though, that last one, Timber.”
It was a nickname that several boys had been using since Ollie’s fall in the classroom, and Ollie wondered whether it might even have been Jake who had tripped him. For the moment, he was prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Thanks,” he said. “I’ve gotta put my height to some good use, eh?”
“Suppose so,” Jake replied. “Surprised to see you here, Saddo.”
Sadiq responded with a casual shrug.
“Sadiq’s good,” Simon told his brother. “As you’ll see on Wednesday.”
“At the practice?”
“Yeah, we’re all coming.”
Jake laughed. “Can’t wait till I tell Nails,” he said. “The Skip will flip!”