Calum got up so early on Saturday that even Leighton groaned and hid his eyes under his paws.
Calum wasn’t going back to sleep though. Not on the day he was getting new boots. Castle Rock’s tournament in Edinburgh would be played on grass, but Scotland Stars had advised players to wear Astroturf boots because the ground was still really hard from summer’s hot weather.
After two long hours of watching his dad eat breakfast, check the news and do other boring stuff, Calum was finally sitting next to him on a bus headed to Caleyfield shopping centre.
“Do you know which boots you want?” Calum’s dad asked, putting his arm round his son’s shoulders.
Calum thought about it for a second. “I’d like a yellow pair to match our strip.”
“Yellow?!” his dad asked, as if he didn’t believe you could get yellow boots.
“Uh-huh, yellow. James Cauldfield wears yellow boots.”
His dad smiled. “Fair enough.”
***
When they walked into Total Soccer, Calum’s eyes grew as big as two footballs. One side of the shop was completely filled with football boots. The other side was packed with strips from all the biggest clubs in the world.
Down the middle of the shop was everything else a football player could possibly need. You could buy all types of shin pads, goalkeeper gloves, footballs, thermal vests, socks, and water bottles from a huge water-bottle tower.
So this is where Jordan gets all his fancy gear, thought Calum. All Calum wanted, though, was a new pair of astros.
At first, there seemed to be far too many to choose from. Calum’s head was spinning from looking at a rainbow of blue boots, pink boots, red boots and green boots. There were even pairs of boots with a different colour for each foot.
“Wow,” Calum’s dad said. “Do they do boots in plain old black any more?”
“Just plimsolls, Dad,” Calum said. His dad, who’d only just discovered that no one wore plimsolls any more, shoved him gently away. By the time Calum recovered his balance, something had caught his eye. In the bottom corner of the display, half-hidden by the cardboard cut-out of a footballer, sat a bright yellow astro boot. It was pointing in the other direction from all the other boots on display.
“This is it,” Calum said, holding it up to his dad as if he’d found buried treasure.
Calum’s dad quickly checked the price tag. “Alright, I’ll get someone over.”
He waved at a shop assistant who was hanging about near the water bottles. His fringe was swept down over his face so he kept having to blow it out of his eyes with a ‘pfft’.
When he got closer, Calum saw that his name badge said ‘Malcolm’.
“Where did you find these, wee man, pfft?” asked Malcolm. After measuring Calum’s feet he glanced back at the display shoe. “Not sure if we’ll have ’em in your size – I’ll check though, pfft.”
It took Malcolm forever to come back. Calum tried to distract himself by looking at shin pads but all he could think about were those yellow boots.
“You’re in luck!” Malcolm said when he finally returned. “There was only one pair left, and it was in your size! Give them a go, pfft.”
Calum slid them on. It was like sliding a pair of gloves onto his feet.
“How do they feel, Cal?” his dad asked.
“They’re perfect!” Calum said to his feet.
“Are you absolutely sure now?” his dad asked cautiously. “I’m not coming all the way back here to change them.”
“Pfft,” Macolm blew the hair out of his eyes and looked around the empty shop. “Listen wee man… pfft, we don’t normally do this but would you like to try them out with a football to make sure?” The shop assistant winked under his fringe.
He picked up a ball and tossed it to Calum. In his new boots, Calum didn’t even bother to catch it first. He brought the ball under his spell straight away and did a few keepy-uppies.
“Hey, you’re pretty good wee man, here, pfft, gimme a shot before my manager gets back.” Malcolm grinned like they were raiding the biscuit tin together.
Calum passed the ball through the air to the shop assistant.
Malcolm had a good touch but his balance wasn’t great. Plus, his hair kept falling into his eyes.
“Careful…” Calum’s dad said with his arms outstretched as Malcolm started to lose control.
It was too late.
Malcolm hoofed the ball towards the tower of water bottles in the middle of the shop…and… CRASH!
The tower collapsed like a house of cards.
The shop assistant’s face turned white as his boss appeared from the storeroom, roaring “MALCOLM!”
Calum’s dad quickly took the boots to the till and paid. Calum could tell that he was trying his hardest not to burst out laughing.