Rags 2 Pitches: A Secret Baby Sports Romance, Page 3

  She smiled as she said, “After school?” We were still so close to each other, I just felt so uneasy, as if a teacher or someone would come by and tell us to part, but I couldn’t let go of her. All of a sudden I didn’t feel like going to school; spending the day with her in my arms was way more appealing. I smiled and said, “Sure.” Then she kissed me on the cheek again, and I knew right then and there, that this was the start of something special.

  Chapter 8

  Nicola

  “Come on, pass the ball!” I screamed from the stadium. I had never watched a game before, but watching the Under 18s The Palace football team play against Nottingshore Forest made me feel kind of special, knowing that I knew someone on the team.

  “What are we doing here again?” Michelle asked when I sat down. She’d come because I’d told my parents that I was going out to Croydon with her to get some clothes. We’d already thought about what we were going to say when we went back to her house empty-handed. The fact that we were only window shopping, which was nothing new. I’d done that so many times, especially seeing as Dad wasn’t putting as much money as he used to in my account. Whenever I questioned him about it, he simply brushed me off and said that we were going through a recession. Which was true, it was all over the news, but if that was the case then how comes Mum never seemed to have a problem with finances? She bought a new Gucci bag or shoes as if it was a couple of quid.

  “I told you, that we’re here to watch Ryan play.” I had told her about ten times, but she didn’t understand how I’d become friendly with someone who went to City Heights; as if going to a Christian school meant that you could only be friends with girls. Sometimes, I worried about how she would cope when she got to uni. Would she only talk to people in her lectures? Would she be scared to venture out and make new friends in case they were different to her?

  “Yes, but I still don’t get how you know him?”

  “Shit, they’re going to score. I can’t watch.”

  I remembered that Ryan said that they had beaten them a few times and that this was the match that they needed to win in order to get into the semi-finals. Ryan worked like crazy at school, in both his jobs and at football just so that he could shine on the pitch. I really wanted his dream to come true today. I knew that it would mean a lot to him, and to me too.

  “And when did you start using such foul language?”

  She sounded like my mother! But as the crowd roared, I sat with my eyes closed, the cheers told me that the one goal that we needed to get out of this damn draw had been scored. The question was, who had scored it?

  “Who scored?” I asked the guy next to me.

  “That boy, what’s his name again, Dad?”

  I felt as if he had taken my heart out, because it had stopped beating. Ryan needed to be noticed today; he’d said that the Manchester Club scout was watching and, if he played well, then maybe, just maybe, he had a shot at being signed up.

  “Ryan Thompson! Fucking saint!” his dad shouted over to me.

  “I knew it.”

  “Oh, so your boyfriend scored. What, does that mean he’ll score with you too, later?” Michelle laughed and she could see from the smile on my face that it wasn’t far from the truth. Lately, walking with Ryan every morning and evening had put a new lease on my life. Before, I had thought about boys, wanted to be with one so badly when my parents were having problems.

  Sharon was great, but with her constant moaning about her love life, which seemed to change every minute, I’d got tired of her company. There was something about Ryan - what you saw was what you got. Not the pretense that my family loved to show as they pretended to be a couple.

  This made me want to get to know him better. Not just mentally, but physically too. We hadn’t even kissed properly, the odd peck here and there, but I wanted more. I wanted him to be my first in everything, because I knew that he would be my last.

  Ryan and I were special, there was this connection, not like the boys that I had seen or the ones that I had heard about, all they talked about was sex. This was more than that, but someone like Michelle could never understand that. She often asked what we talked about and when I tried to explain it to her, she always looked as if she was bored and I was talking a load of crap.

  “Maybe!” I smiled.

  “How is that possible? Are you going to do it in his council flat?”

  She said it as if it was a disease. Then, it was announced that The Palace were the winners. They had qualified to play in the semis for the first time in donkey years. I decided that my best friend couldn’t be my friend any more.

  “You know what bugs me the most?” I shouted above the cheers of the crowd.

  “What?” she said as she took out her mobile and started taking photos of the match. God, she was stupid, we were supposed to be in Croydon shopping and she was taking proof that we were doing the complete opposite.

  “That you go to church. You sit in class every day listening to the preaching of the Lord and you learn nothing.”

  She folded her arms. “Oh, I never realized that sex before marriage was in one of Pastor Jones’s talks?”

  I shook my head, realizing that she had a point about that part, “We’re all equal. Men. Women. Race. Sexuality. Rich and poor.”

  She grew angry as she put her hands on her hips and said, “In that case, explain that to your fucking parents when they ask how comes you were not in Croydon shopping, but at a football match!”

  I was the stupid one, she had tweeted on purpose just to get me in trouble. I should have gone with my gut feeling and come with Sharon instead. There was a class divide between us and it was just getting bigger. She grabbed her bag and left the stadium. I didn’t even fit into her world, just because in her eyes, my world was far from perfect.

  My parents were going to split up and I had a boyfriend who lived on a council estate. Everything that she would never do and had never done up. She was just as superficial as my mum, always thinking about her parents’ bank balance and thinking that she was above everyone else.

  Well, she wasn't above me. I had a boyfriend, which was more then she had ever had, and now, she didn’t have a friend either.

  Chapter 9

  Ryan

  I fucking scored!

  Shit, I was on a high.

  I’d had moments of doubt. Ones that crawl inside of me, like fucking chicken pox. I’d scratch a few times and see nothing, then one day, or maybe two, there’d be rashes everywhere, all over my fucking skin. Uncontrollable and there’s nothing you can do but stay away from people, but by then it is too late. That’s what no self-esteem’s like; I’d started wondering if football was just a fucking illusion. Something that I wanted to do to get out of the rat hole that I was living in.

  Being dyslexic was a fucking joke. The teachers had told us that we could do so many things like the great dyslexics such as Jamie Oliver, one of the richest chefs in the world, or even Steve Jobs, but I didn’t see myself as a Steve Jobs, and I couldn’t do fuck all in the kitchen. So, I’d turned to football believing that it was something that I was good at. Something that I could do not just now, but for the future.

  I’d spent my whole life listening to Mum telling me that kicking a ball was a waste of time, that I should go down the benefits office and sign on and forget about school, but I didn’t listen. Sure, I’d never be anything like Nicola. I wouldn’t have A Levels when I left school, but I had a handful of GCSEs and hopefully a couple of BTECs in case I needed something to fall back on to.

  But it wasn’t who I wanted to be. I never studied for passion, the only passion I had was for football and right there and then, after scoring that goal, I could feel the drive. I was back in the fucking game.

  “Ryan, this is Kenny Bentley, he works for Manchester Club,” my coach, Stewart said, as he took me to one side after the game. He was just as desperate as I was to get me noticed. The Academy only took on six players each year, and it was tight. I had been playing for
The Palace for two years, but it was clear that I had to move on. The competition was getting fiercer by the minute and especially with only one player being offered a scholarship per year… I needed that person to be me. But after last year I’d kind of decided that if I could get a club. Any club, to take me on as reserve, just so that I could make more money than I was earning now in my two jobs, then I would be happy. I had a feeling that today was going to be that fucking day.

  I smiled and shook his hand, but really I wanted to hit the showers. I fucking stunk.

  “Well, Ryan, that was a tough game.”

  I nodded like the choir boy that I had watched once or twice when I had to go to church with my Nan, “Yes, Mr. Bentley.”

  He laughed, “You can just call me Kenny.”

  I’ll call you sir if you sign me up, I thought. “Okay, Kenny.”

  “Where do you live?”

  Now, we were talking. “With my mum.” But I could live anywhere you liked as long as you gave me a chance. That was all I needed, one fucking chance and I wouldn’t disappoint. I couldn’t.

  He nodded, “Are you eighteen yet?”

  Last fucking week.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Good. We need to talk, but I am only in London for the weekend. So maybe later today if you’re free?”

  Is the Pope Catholic?

  “Sure.”

  I was fucking shaking. I was looking at this man, trying to act like an angel, but really all I wanted to do was fucking swear and piss my pants. Shit, it was really happening and sure I had hoped it would happen, but now it was really happening.

  “I’ve been watching you, Ryan. You may have seen me a couple of times.”

  I had and I knew.

  “Really?”

  I tilted my head to the side, something that I had learned from an early age. My dad, who was only around whenever he wanted a quick fuck from my Mum, he’d taught me it. He’d said that whenever I had been caught doing something bad, or wanted to act as if I was a good boy, I should tilt my head. I thought that was the only good thing that I had ever learned from the old man.

  He smiled; shit I’m such a crap liar. And I knew the head trick never worked. I didn’t know why I’d expected it to.

  “Well, maybe around five or so we can meet up. Somewhere near your house.”

  Not if you want your car to still be there when we finish. They would knick the wheels, stereo system and the fucking hood in my area.

  “Let’s meet in Dulwich. There’s a Starbucks there. We can meet around five if you like?”

  Because that’s just before I start my shift. Yep, I’m eighteen and I go to school and have two jobs, but I want to move to Manchester. I want to get away from fucking London and see something other than a fucking coffee cup or stack of fries.

  “Brilliant! See you then.”

  You’re damn fucking right you will! I kept my composure for all of five minutes, thinking about the fact that I might finally be out of there, and knowing that my girl was out made me feel even better.

  We shook hands again and I walked into the changing room, thinking about taking a shower, but then Stewart caught me by surprise. He had been acting like my best friend lately, giving me advice and helping me in more ways than any member of my family. He gave me the biggest hug of my life. I couldn't believe it when the rest of the team cheered for me. It was the first time that they had all treated me as if I was a human being, not as if I was at the bottom of the food chain, and it made me feel good.

  ***

  “I can’t believe it, Nicola,” I said as I held her hand in Maccy D’s (British term for McDonald’s).

  “Wow, you’re really going?” she whispered and I knew that she was happy for me. I knew it must be pretty hard when your boyfriend tells you that he’s going away. Especially when you’ve only been sneaking out and seeing each other on the way back and forth from school.

  “I just didn’t think it would happen so fast,” she mumbled as she took back her hand and played with her fries.

  “It doesn’t mean that it’s happening, I haven’t even spoken to him yet.”

  I couldn’t do this, I was trying to reassure her that I wasn’t going to go away, but I couldn’t stay. I needed to leave and make a better future, not only for myself, but my siblings too. I’d thought that she’d understand it, but as she sat quietly looking out at passing traffic and ignoring my stare, I had a suspicion that she didn’t.

  “Nicola, listen to me. I need to go and make a better future not only for myself but my brothers and sister too.”

  “What about your Mum? They’re her responsibility, not yours. Besides, there’s other clubs in London. Like Arronton, ChelseaWide or Tottenham Pearls.”

  She had been doing her homework, up until a week ago she’d known very little about football and now she was reciting the clubs as if it was one of her dissertations.

  “Look, I’ve been checking them out and, as you can see, ChelseaWide has a better ranking in the premiership then Manchester - especially since Ferguson left.”

  She had a point; since their key manager had left they had been changing like crazy and dropping down the premiership league, but this was an opportunity that I couldn’t afford to miss out on.

  “The only difference is the fact that none of those clubs have been watching me. Do you know how many players want to join first division?”

  She sighed, “No.”

  I went on to explain, “It’s not about which one is out there, it’s about which one is interested and, right now, I don’t have any other offers. No one else is knocking at my door, just this one.”

  “What about WBA, they were interested?”

  Her eyes were bright and I knew what she was doing; sure they were closer to London, but she was missing the point. It was about the status of the club. Sure, WBA was a mid-table Premier League club, but I wanted to play for the top team, the one that plays in Europe and shit. I had watched the Champions League as a kid and that had always been one of my goals. Even better, getting the chance to play for England. There was a world of opportunity outside of just playing for a team. I had that with Manchester Club, with WBA, I wasn’t so sure.

  “They’re offering a package. Not only money, but housing too. I need to use that as leverage so that my brothers and sister can come live with me eventually. I need that more than ever now, because things are getting bad. The social keep sniffing their bloody noses in and it’s just a matter of time until they pull them in and I’ll never really get to see them again. They deserve more than that.”

  Shit, she had to understand that. We had only been going out just under a month, she couldn’t make demands on me, especially this dream which didn’t affect just me, but my siblings too.

  “You know what, all I hear is me, my siblings, and me again. I just don’t seem to feature in the equation!” With those words she stood up. I was never a person that was good with words. This was the main reason I would be shit at being a solicitor or any other profession that needed words. I tried to think of something to say, but as I searched for the words, before I looked up again she was gone. Probably on the bus back home. I wanted to reassure her, tell her that nothing would come in our way, but just like she had planned out her life and it involved going to university and getting a degree, I had planned out mine. And if it involved moving to Manchester, then so be it. If she couldn’t understand that, then this relationship was over.

  I just didn't know which one hurt more right now, her not trying to understand or me probably having to leave.

  Chapter 10

  Nicola

  “Dad, you’re home!” I hadn’t expected that, especially on a weekend. He was always claiming that he was on a business trip and preferred to leave on a Friday night so he had a clear head for Monday, but we all knew that it wasn’t true. Everyone needs to switch off, even corporate heads like him.

  “I was waiting for you. Your mum said you were in Croydon with Michelle.”

/>   I nodded, I didn’t feel like being interrogated. Right now, Ryan was talking to the manager of Manchester Club about possibly leaving London and going up there. The only thing I wanted to do right now was go to my room and cry.

  “Well, were you?”

  “If Mum says I was there, then I was there. Why?”

  I was being defensive and the last thing I wanted was an interrogation. The man was never at home, and he had the cheek to ask me about my whereabouts.

  “Funny that. I saw Michelle’s tweet about being at a football match.”

  I stopped with my hand on the bannister, ready to turn around and face the music. Since when did he go on Twitter, let alone know Michelle’s Twitter handle? This felt surreal; I knew nothing about his life and I was pretty sure that he knew nothing about mine.

  “I never knew that you were into football.”

  “How would you when you are never at home?”

  He smirked, “Now, you know I’m always working.”

  I bit my tongue, because I was going to say something, anything, to put him in his place, but I couldn’t; no matter what he was my dad.

  “Yes, but if you want we could go to a match together.”

  I needed to leave before the tears started rolling down my cheeks. I had walked all the way home. I hadn’t stopped, not even for a second.

  “I wouldn’t want you to get distracted,” he said.

  Now, he had my attention, he knew. This conversation was a threat; he wasn’t interested in spending time with me. Then again why should he? He hadn't been for the last ten years or probably more.