Goal Oriented

Chapter 2

The chickens have lain three eggs in the past week. I scoop them eagerly into my blue-and-yellow polka dot bowl and run inside. Paul waits there with three pennies and drops them into my hands. 

"Three pennies," he says as they make clinking sounds, dropping together. "For three eggs. Thank you, farmer Daisy!" 

I giggle and stand on my tip-toes to place the bowl on the bench. 

"I'm going to see Jimmy," I say, and Mum and Paul nod as I hurry back down the hallway.

The gate swings open with a whine and I walk across the road to James' house. He's making a lot of noise - the football is pounding onto the tin garage door as he kicks it back and forth. 

"Hi, Jimmy!" I say. He picks up the ball and comes over to hug me. He's shorter than me, so we're a little bit of an awkward pair, even at seven. He's got a bit of dirt swiped on the bottom of his chin - or maybe it's food. 

"Hi!" James says, then looks down at the ball. "Lucky you came. Dad's gotten mad at me six times for kicking this. Wanna come into the backyard and we can kick together?"

I furrow my brow. "I've never played football before."

"That's ok," he says with a cheery shrug, grabbing my hand and leading me into the backyard. "I can teach you. And my team needs an extra player, so if you're good, Daddy can sign you up. And then I'll always have someone to practice with!" 

He places the ball on the ground and kicks it to me. It stops a small distance from my feet. 

"So, you just kick it," he says expectantly. I pull back my foot and bring it smashing onto the ball. It veers off to the right and lands in his mulberry bush. James jogs off to retrieve it. 

"What's going on out here?" It's James' dad, Adrian, who's stepped out of the house with a teatowel in the waistband on his pants. He puts his hands on his hips as James comes back with the ball. "Playing a bit of soccer, are we?"

"Dad," James whines. "It's football!" 

"Jimmy's teaching me," I say happily. Adrian grabs the ball off James and walks over to me. 

"Well, James, was taught by the best," he says, crouching down and placing the ball at my feet. "Kick there, aim for that little hexagon. And point your foot. Good. James, throw me that ball, son. That was good, Daisy. Now this time do the same thing but once you've swung your leg keep it swinging in the same direction, don't let it just go wherever it pleases."

I try again, and this time the ball lands right at James' feet. I jump. "Yay!" 

Adrian pats me on the shoulder. "Nice one. Keep practicing and we might see if we can find you a spot on Jimmy's team."

James grins at me, and I grin back.

***

"This is a joke, right?"

My team are standing just to the side of the field with their arms crossed. The Peter's team have already started their warm up, and James is angirly putting out cones just in front of the halfway point, glaring at me pointedly. I flip him the bird and turn back to my team. 

"It'll just be for a few weeks, knowing them," I say. "I did all that I could, I promise guys. But they'll cave and move slots, I'm sure."

Even our coach, a balding forty year old from Scotland, is looking at me with a disbeliving look in his eyes. 

"Barry, it'll be fine. Better than no training at all," I reason with him, hoping he'll catch on and help me out. He does, sighing and then clapping his hands.