I sat on my soccer ball and waited for Fisk. The sky had cleared, but a cold wind was blowing and I was hoping he wouldn’t turn up. I looked at my watch. Five minutes to four. This was definitely past the time we’d agreed on. Was this just another of Fisk’s stupid jokes? He’d seemed pretty serious about the soccer, but maybe he just wanted to make me sit out here and wait for no one. I decided to give him till four o’clock. Then I’d walk home.

At five past four I’d had enough. I slung my bag over my shoulder and started kicking the ball towards the toilet block. I noticed a couple of bikes leaning against the wall. ‘Travis!’ I called out. ‘Fisk!’

Two scruffy-looking kids in sleeveless shirts appeared from behind the building.

‘Sod off, loser or we’ll do the same to–’

‘Hey, that’s the kid who kicked that goal against us,’ the other boy snarled.

My stomach dropped. It was the Hoods player that I’d tackled near the end of the last footy game.

He had what looked like a fake tattoo and a small gold ring through one eyebrow. He spat out the gum he was chewing and moved towards me, slowly.

Fisk must have set me up.

‘Hey guys, how about a kick?’ I offered, lamely.

‘Hey, twit-head, how about we kick your lights out instead,’ said the kid with the tatt in a fake sing-song voice.

They grabbed me by the arms and dragged me into the toilets. Fisk was lying on the floor, two more kids standing over him, their arms folded.

‘Hey boys, look, we got some company,’ the tattooed kid yelled, shoving me hard against a wall.

‘Let him go, Leech, he didn’t do nothing,’ said my new hero, a tall kid standing over Fisk. They all looked at me.

I glanced down at Fisk. He was about to get smashed.

‘C’mon, Totem, he was the kid who beat us last week, remember?’

‘Yeah, he kicked that mongrel goal after the siren, didn’t he?’

It wasn’t looking good.

‘Four-on-two. Half-pitch. Five minutes attacking for each side.’ I stumbled over my words. ‘If we win, we walk away. If you win–’

‘What are you talking about, loser?’ Leech sneered.

I was desperate. ‘Soccer. A game. Now!’

No one spoke. Everyone was looking at the kid called Totem, obviously the leader.

Slowly, he started to smile. ‘Fun! Let’s do it!’

‘Hey, no goalies, okay?’ I said.

‘Shut your face, twerp. No more rules.’

Fisk hadn’t said a word all the time he was lying on the floor. Now he found his voice.

‘What did you do that for, you idiot?’ he hissed at me. ‘I was just starting to work them around.’

I looked at him and shook my head. ‘Bull,’ I said.

They tossed me the ball and yelled, ‘Go!’

It looked like we were attacking first. I passed the ball to Fisk and for a moment he looked defeated.

‘C’mon, Fisk,’ I shouted. ‘Let’s do this.’ He looked over at me, grimaced, then nodded.

He raced forward, dribbling the ball with ease. I set off at an angle, trying to make a line for him to thread the ball through. But instead of passing, he ran around one of the Hoods and belted a looping left cross towards the far post. I trapped it neatly, dummied a shot, dodged Leech (the kid with the tattoo) and blasted the ball at the far side of the net. Fisk had rushed across and was there to tap the ball in for the easiest of goals.

We pressed in again and again, but the Hoods players had been sparked into action and were tackling and hassling us big time. After five minutes, all we had was that single goal to our name.

Now it was our turn to defend. We managed to keep them out for the first three minutes, but playing against four was impossible. Soon enough, we were caught out three-on-one, me being the one, and they scored easily. Then they did it again.

‘You want to play out the last minute?’ Totem called out. ‘Before we smash you properly!’

Fisk and I were standing doubled over, hands on knees, sucking in the air hard. Fisk nodded. ‘Get ready,’ he hissed at me.

‘What’s the point?’ I asked.

‘Run!’ Fisk screamed.

I started running, but suddenly realised that Fisk had done a complete 180 and was running in the opposite direction. I screeched to a halt, turned, and did likewise. The Hoods were screaming and cursing. I stooped down at the touchline and grabbed my bag. I never caught up with Fisk, nor, I assumed, did the Hoods.

I flung open the front door, bolted inside and slammed it shut. Then I locked it.

I looked out the living room window. Of course, there was no one in the street. It was only then that I realised I’d given up a brand-new soccer ball, a gift from my grandpa.

I felt dejected and alone as I walked into the kitchen. No one was there. I grabbed an apple and a drink and waited for Luci to ring. I needed some good news. Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait long. She listened patiently as I relayed the afternoon’s events, then we made plans for the weekend catch-up. I felt better when I finally put the phone down.