little as I know about football, even I knew that being scouted for a team like that was a pretty big deal. Impressed, I said, ‘You must have been good to get picked up by
them.’
A wry grin tugged at his lips. ‘Nelson was better than me. I’d never tell him that, mind.’
‘Nelson?’
‘My kid brother,’ he explained. His attention flicked back to the action on screen. ‘Oi, ref! Offside, man!’
I stared at the TV, baffled. ‘What does that even mean?’
‘What is it with girls and the offside rule? It’s simple!’
Crunching defensively on a handful of crisps, I folded my arms. ‘Go on, then, David Beckham. Explain.’
A determined gleam in his eye, Dontay sat up straight and scanned the snacks on the coffee table thoughtfully. ‘All right. We’re going to need salt and pepper pots, one of those
cheesy footballs and that glass.’
I gathered everything up and sat back down. What followed confused me more than I’d thought possible. Most ghosts learned how to move solid things around, but it wasn’t a skill
Dontay had mastered yet. So, with him barking instructions at me, I put the glass in goal and placed the other things in various positions around the table, trying hard to look like I understood
every word. As far as I could tell, as long as your pepper pot didn’t play the cheesy ball past the salt, you were OK. How that related to what was happening in the actual game was
anyone’s guess, but Dontay looked so pleased with himself I didn’t dare ask anything else.
By the time the teams went off at half-time, England were cruising at two-nil up and the opposition looked like they wished the game was over. Flicking a sideways glance at Dontay, I said,
‘I bet you miss it, being able to kick a ball about.’
His expression was bleak. ‘It sucks.’
Something had been nagging at me. ‘How did you work out how to leave the place you died and move around? Did another ghost tell you?’
‘What are you on about?’ he asked. ‘I didn’t need to be told – I just went.’
I frowned. ‘It’s not as simple as that. Ghosts need to carry something from the place where they died to be able to leave. If you don’t, you’re stuck there.’
Dontay stuck a hand in his pocket. ‘I had this on me when I got shot,’ he said, revealing a silver number six the size of his palm. ‘It fell off the front door when I slammed
it to go and meet my mate. Someone would have nicked it if I left it on the floor so I shoved in my pocket.’
That explained it; Dontay had died on his own doorstep, at the bottom of the tower block. He hadn’t needed to take anything because he’d already got the number. ‘You’re
lucky. Some ghosts never figure out how to leave.’
He nodded, turning the number over in his fingers. ‘I didn’t go far at first, mostly just up to the flat, but I hated seeing Mum crying all the time. So I started following Nelson
when he went training with the lads. In the end, I couldn’t stand not being able to join in.’ His hand clenched around the metal. ‘The ghost of an old bloke in the flat next door
told me about the Dearly D, and I knew I had to go.’
‘Oh?’ I hardly dared to breathe.
‘For Nelson. He couldn’t cope when I died. I’d always been there for him, see? He looked up to me and suddenly, I was gone.’ His voice cracked on the last word. A
shuttered look came into his eyes and he swallowed. ‘I don’t know if I can do this.’
I watched him in mute sympathy. His pain was obvious, but forcing him to face up to it before he was ready wasn’t going to help anyone. There was no rush, anyway. At least he’d
opened up a bit and I felt he was beginning to trust me. It was enough for now. I decided to lighten the mood.
‘If you’re planning to put together a ghostly five-aside team, don’t pick Gawjus George,’ I advised, pulling a rueful face. ‘When he says he’s a world-class
dribbler, he doesn’t mean with a ball.’
He heaved in a
them.’
A wry grin tugged at his lips. ‘Nelson was better than me. I’d never tell him that, mind.’
‘Nelson?’
‘My kid brother,’ he explained. His attention flicked back to the action on screen. ‘Oi, ref! Offside, man!’
I stared at the TV, baffled. ‘What does that even mean?’
‘What is it with girls and the offside rule? It’s simple!’
Crunching defensively on a handful of crisps, I folded my arms. ‘Go on, then, David Beckham. Explain.’
A determined gleam in his eye, Dontay sat up straight and scanned the snacks on the coffee table thoughtfully. ‘All right. We’re going to need salt and pepper pots, one of those
cheesy footballs and that glass.’
I gathered everything up and sat back down. What followed confused me more than I’d thought possible. Most ghosts learned how to move solid things around, but it wasn’t a skill
Dontay had mastered yet. So, with him barking instructions at me, I put the glass in goal and placed the other things in various positions around the table, trying hard to look like I understood
every word. As far as I could tell, as long as your pepper pot didn’t play the cheesy ball past the salt, you were OK. How that related to what was happening in the actual game was
anyone’s guess, but Dontay looked so pleased with himself I didn’t dare ask anything else.
By the time the teams went off at half-time, England were cruising at two-nil up and the opposition looked like they wished the game was over. Flicking a sideways glance at Dontay, I said,
‘I bet you miss it, being able to kick a ball about.’
His expression was bleak. ‘It sucks.’
Something had been nagging at me. ‘How did you work out how to leave the place you died and move around? Did another ghost tell you?’
‘What are you on about?’ he asked. ‘I didn’t need to be told – I just went.’
I frowned. ‘It’s not as simple as that. Ghosts need to carry something from the place where they died to be able to leave. If you don’t, you’re stuck there.’
Dontay stuck a hand in his pocket. ‘I had this on me when I got shot,’ he said, revealing a silver number six the size of his palm. ‘It fell off the front door when I slammed
it to go and meet my mate. Someone would have nicked it if I left it on the floor so I shoved in my pocket.’
That explained it; Dontay had died on his own doorstep, at the bottom of the tower block. He hadn’t needed to take anything because he’d already got the number. ‘You’re
lucky. Some ghosts never figure out how to leave.’
He nodded, turning the number over in his fingers. ‘I didn’t go far at first, mostly just up to the flat, but I hated seeing Mum crying all the time. So I started following Nelson
when he went training with the lads. In the end, I couldn’t stand not being able to join in.’ His hand clenched around the metal. ‘The ghost of an old bloke in the flat next door
told me about the Dearly D, and I knew I had to go.’
‘Oh?’ I hardly dared to breathe.
‘For Nelson. He couldn’t cope when I died. I’d always been there for him, see? He looked up to me and suddenly, I was gone.’ His voice cracked on the last word. A
shuttered look came into his eyes and he swallowed. ‘I don’t know if I can do this.’
I watched him in mute sympathy. His pain was obvious, but forcing him to face up to it before he was ready wasn’t going to help anyone. There was no rush, anyway. At least he’d
opened up a bit and I felt he was beginning to trust me. It was enough for now. I decided to lighten the mood.
‘If you’re planning to put together a ghostly five-aside team, don’t pick Gawjus George,’ I advised, pulling a rueful face. ‘When he says he’s a world-class
dribbler, he doesn’t mean with a ball.’
He heaved in a
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