She turns, she shoots, she scores! Yeeaah! Kenny for England, Kenny for England! Whoops, sorry, I didnât see you there. Blinding shot, wasnât it? But what do you expect? I am a footballing genius after all!
Actually, Iâm just getting in a bit of practice before the others get here for a kick-around. Why are you looking at me like that? Yes I do mean the rest of the Sleepover Club, whatâs so strange about that? But of course, you donât know do you? Cool! Iâm going to love telling you about our latest Sleepover adventure. Youâre never going to believe it. Never in a million years!
As you know, I think that football is the best game in the world, and I canât understand people who donât. But it seems that the others thought I was the one who was weird. Now I suppose I can understand Fliss for having that attitude because, well â sheâs so girly, basically. I mean, mud and Fliss just donât go. She complains when itâs cold. She complains when itâs wet. And thereâs no way that youâd get her running about outside in a skimpy pair of shorts messing up her hair. The only good thing about football as far as Fliss is concerned is David Beckham. And the only reason she knows about him is because sheâs seen posters of him in stupid girly magazines. As I say, I sort of see where sheâs coming from, but the others? I just donât understand them at all.
Take Frankie. Sheâs my best mate and youâd think that sheâd agree with me about the most important thing in my life, wouldnât you? Well, you couldnât be more wrong. She says she canât see the point of football at all. But thatâs just crazy, because she plays netball and she thinks thatâs OK. And footballâs the same, isnât it? Apart from the fact that you kick the ball â and you have goals instead of nets â and the pitch is bigger⦠Look, what I mean is, in both games whoever scores the most wins, right? So basically theyâre the same. Everybody thinks that Frankie is some brainbox or something, but if you ask me, sometimes she can be really dumb!
Rosieâs the same. Her brother Adam is crazy about football, but all she does is wind me up by calling me a hooligan. Just because I go to watch Leicester City with my dad. As far as sheâs concerned, itâs as though every single football supporter goes around beating up old grannies in their spare time. My dadâs a doctor for goodness sake, and heâs not violent at all. He never even shouts out anything rude at a match. And sometimes Leicester City play so badly they deserve to be shouted at, believe me!
The person I really canât understand though is Lyndz. She goes to football matches with her grandad and her brothers sometimes. We all sit together. She loves going. I know she does, because she gets all excited and jiggles about in her seat. You ought to hear her when someone scores a goal. But in front of the others she always pretends that sheâs not that interested. You just canât work some people out, can you?
But really, the fact that I love football so much has never been that big a deal. Itâs just a fact of life that the others accept. Or at least, that was the case. All that changed when the notice appeared at school.
Now you should know that as soon as a new notice goes up everybody crowds round, as though itâs some really important event. I know, I know, itâs a bit sad isnât it? Well anyway, one Monday, there was this big crush in the corridor at the end of lunchtime break.
âLooks like thereâs a new notice up!â said Frankie, elbowing her way to the front of the crowd.
âHope itâs something exciting!â Rosie shouted, joining her.
Fliss, Lyndz and I didnât want to feel left out, so we got some serious elbow action going and worked our way to the front to join the others.
There was a bright spanking new notice up, but somehow the others werenât impressed. As soon as Fliss read it she turned away in disgust.
âIf Iâd known it was going to be so boring, I wouldnât have wasted all that energy!â she sniffed, and pushed her way back out through the crowd again. The others followed her. But it was one of the best notices Iâd ever read, so I stayed there a bit longer just staring at it. It said:
FIVE-A-SIDE PRACTICES
Wednesdays 3.30 â 4.30pm In the School Gym with Mr Pownall
EVERYBODY WELCOME
âBrilliant!â I yelled, and ran to join the others back in Mrs Weaverâs classroom.
âI donât know what youâre so excited about, Frogface,â sneered Ryan Scott, who had followed me in. âMr Pownall doesnât want soppy girls trying to play football. Itâs a boysâ game. Youâd just be wasting your time if you turned up.â
âI know you canât read, Spotty Scotty,â I snapped back at him, âso Iâd better tell you that Mr Pownall has written âeveryone welcomeâ and underlined â