sounds wistful. Is she single? I check out her fingers: no wedding ring. Maybe she’s got a boyfriend. She could probably get one. She’s not that old, though she’d look younger if she gave up the bun and sensible shoes. Maybe she babes it up when school’s out. I try to imagine her in a tube dress and heels. Not bad. DD as Savannah would say – Definitely Datable .
‘Do you think Miss Davis gets many valentine cards?’ I whisper in Treacle’s ear.
‘I bet she gets more than me.’ Treacle winds a long wisp of hair round her finger and sighs.
‘You never know.’ I smile to myself. If everything goes according to plan at the webzine, Treacle might be getting her very first card from Jeff.
‘Right.’ Jeff hands me a notepad and pen. ‘You log the stats.’
‘I what ?’ I squint at him through the freezing rain.
‘Just make a note every time someone makes an attempt on goal, offsides, fouls, saves, how many corners. All the important stuff.’
I take a look at the windswept pitch. ‘Well, there are four corners . . .’
‘Ha ha.’ Jeff shakes his head, but I wasn’t joking. What does he mean, how many corners?
The teams start to file on to the pitch. Anila, from our class, is first on, followed by Karen Marsden from another Year Nine form with her mates Erin Slater and Jing-Wei Wu. Where’s Treacle?
I didn’t warn her Jeff was going to be watching. She was so nervous about the game. I didn’t want to make it worse. But I know that, once she’s on the pitch, her pre-match jitters will disappear. They always do. After that, even Jeff Simpson won’t distract her from the game.
I huddle deeper into my duffle, flinching from the biting wind snapping at my cheeks. Jeff’s wrapped in a scarf, his dark-blond wavy hair plastered around his face. I can see why Treacle likes him. Even half-drowned, his nose red with cold, he’s DD. Not my type (although I’m not even sure I really have a type?) but Definitely Datable.
Treacle jogs on to the field and I wave. She must be freezing even though she’s wearing leggings under her baggy strip. She waves back, her hand stalling in the air as she spots Jeff. I grin at her madly. She must be so pleased he’s here.
The teams fan out into position and the ref blows his whistle.
I write Cup Match: Green Park v Tiptonville High on the notepad and start scanning the game for stuff to write down. There’s a lot of running as the teams punt the ball around, but no one’s near a goal. My gaze sneaks sideways to Jeff. Is he watching Treacle? He cups his hands round his mouth and yells encouragement to the Green Park High team.
There’s a smattering of spectators, hunched against the icy wind at the edges of the pitch.
‘Come on, Treacle!’ I whoop.
Treacle glances at me as she thunders past, sliding to tackle the ball away from a defender on the other team.
‘Isn’t she great?’ I nod at Jeff.
He’s watching her dribble the ball over the muddy grass as she heads towards the other team’s goal. ‘Yeah.’ His eyes are fixed on Treacle’s legs as she hammers the ball towards the net. It veers in the wind and slices past the post.
‘Missed.’ Jeff shakes his head.
I write, ‘Goal attempt by Treacle.’ My fingers are trembling and not just from cold. Jeff was really watching her! I want to jump up and down with excitement. My plan’s working. Come on, Treacle, impress him!
Imagine if this was the beginning of something big. My pen drifts across the soggy page, drawing a love heart. What if they fall in love? What if they get married? Flowers and hearts trail from my pen, twining between the lines. I doodle a wedding dress, sketching Treacle’s head at the top, her jet black hair gathered in ringlets. As I start work on the bouquet, Jeff lets out a massive groan.
‘What?’ I look up.
Through the rain, I see the players clustered round the goal at the other end of the pitch.
‘Tiptonville scored,’ Jeff sighs.
‘Does that count as an
‘Do you think Miss Davis gets many valentine cards?’ I whisper in Treacle’s ear.
‘I bet she gets more than me.’ Treacle winds a long wisp of hair round her finger and sighs.
‘You never know.’ I smile to myself. If everything goes according to plan at the webzine, Treacle might be getting her very first card from Jeff.
‘Right.’ Jeff hands me a notepad and pen. ‘You log the stats.’
‘I what ?’ I squint at him through the freezing rain.
‘Just make a note every time someone makes an attempt on goal, offsides, fouls, saves, how many corners. All the important stuff.’
I take a look at the windswept pitch. ‘Well, there are four corners . . .’
‘Ha ha.’ Jeff shakes his head, but I wasn’t joking. What does he mean, how many corners?
The teams start to file on to the pitch. Anila, from our class, is first on, followed by Karen Marsden from another Year Nine form with her mates Erin Slater and Jing-Wei Wu. Where’s Treacle?
I didn’t warn her Jeff was going to be watching. She was so nervous about the game. I didn’t want to make it worse. But I know that, once she’s on the pitch, her pre-match jitters will disappear. They always do. After that, even Jeff Simpson won’t distract her from the game.
I huddle deeper into my duffle, flinching from the biting wind snapping at my cheeks. Jeff’s wrapped in a scarf, his dark-blond wavy hair plastered around his face. I can see why Treacle likes him. Even half-drowned, his nose red with cold, he’s DD. Not my type (although I’m not even sure I really have a type?) but Definitely Datable.
Treacle jogs on to the field and I wave. She must be freezing even though she’s wearing leggings under her baggy strip. She waves back, her hand stalling in the air as she spots Jeff. I grin at her madly. She must be so pleased he’s here.
The teams fan out into position and the ref blows his whistle.
I write Cup Match: Green Park v Tiptonville High on the notepad and start scanning the game for stuff to write down. There’s a lot of running as the teams punt the ball around, but no one’s near a goal. My gaze sneaks sideways to Jeff. Is he watching Treacle? He cups his hands round his mouth and yells encouragement to the Green Park High team.
There’s a smattering of spectators, hunched against the icy wind at the edges of the pitch.
‘Come on, Treacle!’ I whoop.
Treacle glances at me as she thunders past, sliding to tackle the ball away from a defender on the other team.
‘Isn’t she great?’ I nod at Jeff.
He’s watching her dribble the ball over the muddy grass as she heads towards the other team’s goal. ‘Yeah.’ His eyes are fixed on Treacle’s legs as she hammers the ball towards the net. It veers in the wind and slices past the post.
‘Missed.’ Jeff shakes his head.
I write, ‘Goal attempt by Treacle.’ My fingers are trembling and not just from cold. Jeff was really watching her! I want to jump up and down with excitement. My plan’s working. Come on, Treacle, impress him!
Imagine if this was the beginning of something big. My pen drifts across the soggy page, drawing a love heart. What if they fall in love? What if they get married? Flowers and hearts trail from my pen, twining between the lines. I doodle a wedding dress, sketching Treacle’s head at the top, her jet black hair gathered in ringlets. As I start work on the bouquet, Jeff lets out a massive groan.
‘What?’ I look up.
Through the rain, I see the players clustered round the goal at the other end of the pitch.
‘Tiptonville scored,’ Jeff sighs.
‘Does that count as an
Similar Books
