Kicked Out, page 8
Sami sighed and turned from the door to head to school. He really wasn’t chatty today.
“Oi, Sami, what happened, man?” I pulled on my shoes and stepped outside, blinking as the sunlight hit my eyes.
Sami stopped wheeling his bike and waited for me to join him. “We haven’t raised any money for the charity match. And Aadam has to send in his appeal by the end of this week. That’s the deadline.”
“We need more teams. Two teams of eleven players were never gonna raise enough money.”
“Yeah, but we literally haven’t raised even a penny yet.” Sami adjusted his rucksack strap, his head low.
“Let’s chat to Elijah and Leo at park footy today.” I couldn’t stand seeing him like this. “See if we can get any other ideas.” I grabbed my bike from behind our side gate and nudged him to get us walking. “I asked my sis to sponsor me, and I’ve got some.” I tried to sound positive, but there was no way I was gonna tell him Samira put down 50p. Just 50p! I reckon she did that ’cause it was me. If I asked Sami to ask her to sponsor him, she’d probably give him a tenner. Maybe I’d do that, just to make sure I squeezed more out of her.
As we got through the school gates, I spotted Tom and Nathan chatting to some of the school football team by the bike racks.
“Oi! Tom!” I shouted, glancing at Sami as we both made our way to him, wheeling our bikes.
“What?” Nathan snarled, and put his hands in his pockets. Great. He was getting involved.
I went over to Tom and put a U-lock around the frame of my bike, securing it to a rack. “About the charity football match . . .” I stood up. “We were thinking of opening it up to more people ’cause two teams getting sponsored is never gonna raise enough money. Not everyone can get sponsors—”
Nathan laughed, and I stopped talking to figure out what he found so funny.
“You guys are so dense. We play all the time anyway, so why would we pay to play?”
“You’re not paying to play. You’re supposed to get sponsored. It’s to help my brother,” said Sami, standing next to me after securing his bike.
“Yeah, and?” Nathan rolled his eyes. “Why would anyone wanna pay to help a ‘poor boy from Syria’?” He made air quotes and said the last part in a mocking voice.
“You’re just salty because you’re not captain anymore,” I said.
Nathan pushed me and I skidded, stopping myself from falling. I lunged at him but froze when I felt lots of eyes on me. I decided to save myself from getting in trouble.
“Come on, let’s go.” I stared down Nathan and pulled Sami away.
Sami drooped his head. “He’s right, though. Why would anyone? Why’d we even think this was gonna work?”
As much as I hated thinking this, Nathan was right. No one was gonna care about helping a random teenager from Syria.
After a moment, Sami said, “Let’s just cancel it so we don’t look like fools, and find another way to help Aadam.”
I pulled my slipping rucksack strap back onto my shoulder. “Look, man, we just need to find something more interesting to do. Maybe a penalty shoot-out or something? Something that more kids, even the ones that don’t play, can get involved in, yeah? And doesn’t necessarily have to involve the whole team, or Nathan.”
“Yeah, maybe.” But Sami didn’t seem convinced.
After school, we went to the park with Leo and Elijah for a kickabout. I felt much better than I had all weekend. Just me, the ball, and my boys. The way it used to be. Away from the possibility of bumping into Mustafa.
Elijah kicked off, and within minutes, Sami scored because Mark spotted Grace and didn’t follow the ball. We all eye-rolled at each other.
“Mark, just go and have a chat!” Leo shouted, pointing to Grace and signaling a time-out.
“Yeah, just go. We’ll talk about the charity match,” I said, heading towards Elijah, Leo, and Sami.
We all sat on the grass. “So we’re thinking of doing a penalty shoot-out instead of a match to raise money for Aadam. What do you think?” I said, looking at Sami and nodding to get him talking.
“You’ll have to make sure Grace ain’t around if you want Mark to stay in goal, otherwise we’ll all score!” Elijah grinned and we all laughed. “Sounds good, though,” he added.
“Yeah, better than that sponsorship thing,” said Leo, pushing his brown mop off his face. He’d not spiked his hair up today, and he looked so different. More my height. “What do we have to do? Pay per penalty kick?”
“Yeah, I think that would work,” said Sami, squinting as the afternoon sun blinded us.
My brain pinged. We could have prizes to get more people involved. “Yeah, and there’ll be a big prize for the person who scores the most goals.” I lay back on the warm grass, letting the sun do its thing on my face. “If we can get at least one hundred people from our year to pay three pounds for three penalties, we’ll have three hundred pounds from just our year. And that’s taking out around eighty people who won’t wanna take part.”
“And if we can get all the year groups to do it, we might raise fifteen hundred pounds!” Sami’s voice was high and excited.
“What you lot talking about?” It was Mark, with Grace just behind him.
I sat up.
“More like, what have you been talking about?” Elijah winked twice.
Mark blushed and Grace scowled before sitting down with us. Sami filled them in.
“Penalties sound good! I heard Mum talking to your head teacher about Aadam last night.” Grace pulled out a few blades of grass. “She said she’s well impressed with how you want to do this.”
“For real?” Sami said.
“Seriously?” I said at the same time.
“Yep.” Grace blew the blades of grass into the warm breeze.
“I want to help too,” she said. “I know it’ll be at your school, but maybe I could help sell tickets at mine?”
“Yeah, that would be awesome,” said Sami, grinning.
“Cool. I’ll ask some mates too.” Grace jumped up to grab the ball. “Come on, are we playing or not?”
“Let’s do penalties!” said Leo.
“Yeah, all right,” I said.
After the park, we rode our bikes to Mark’s to drop him home. It was a warm evening, and me and Sami didn’t feel like going home yet.
As we entered Mark’s pretty, tree-lined road, Sami stopped. “Shall we head back?”
“Why, ’cause Callum might see us?” I said quietly, as Mark stopped riding and looked back at us.
“Yeah.”
“You heading off?” shouted Mark. “What about your chemistry book? Mum got me a new one; you can have yours back.”
“I’m coming,” I said, nodding at Sami to say, “Come on.”
“All right, I’ll just run in and get it. You guys wait somewhere close to the drive.”
We all stopped outside Mark’s big gates and made sure we weren’t anywhere near the gate buzzer and camera.
Mark had started tapping in the entry code when his neighbor’s gate clacked and started opening. We all turned, and a bright red Porsche 911 drove out with its top down, the engine purring like a happy cat.
Oh. My. God.
David Mora was Mark’s neighbor?
Chapter 14
My jaw was on the floor for the second time in a week. Sami’s and Mark’s hung open too.
My hand involuntarily waved, without me even thinking about it, and my mouth broke out into what must’ve been a really cheesy grin. I couldn’t help it!
David stopped his car and smiled.
NO WAY!
“Which one of you lives next door?” He looked at each of us. “I’ve got a couple of footballs to return.” Then his face changed. “Didn’t I meet you the other day outside the Co-op in Stockport?”
“Yeah, that was us!” Sami said.
“Don’t worry, I made sure my dog’s in the house and not following me out today.” David smiled.
“Uhhh . . . I’m the one who lives next door.” Mark leaned his bike on the wall next to the gate and turned to the car.
My mind was whirring. Why would we all of a sudden be chatting to a famous footballer for the second time in a week? This was fate. I had to make the most of this moment.
“Can I ask you somethin’?” I said. I’m not sure why, but I had a good feeling.
“Yeah, go for it,” said David.
I stepped off my bike and held on to the handles. “Uhh . . . we’re raising money for Sami’s brother, who’s about to be deported to Syria.” I pointed at Sami. “Because they think he’s an adult and he doesn’t have proof he’s from there ’cause he lost all his papers. He’s only sixteen and it’s not safe for him to go back as there’s still a war happening. So we’re planning a charity football match to raise funds for a lawyer to help him.”
“Or maybe a penalty shoot-out,” Sami chipped in. I’d forgotten we’d just changed the plan.
“You want me to donate towards it?”
“Uhhh . . . you could!” I said quickly. “But it would be so amazing if you could join us as our goalkeeper? We’d get loads of people wanting to take part and donate and because of you we might even be able to get more attention in school and raise awareness about how hard it is to come as a refugee and stay in England too.”
“Well, I owe you one for stopping those boys from keying my car . . . but I’m afraid I can’t spare the time at the moment. It’s not the end of the season for a couple of weeks.”
“But that’s perfect,” said Sami. “The shoot-out’s at the end of May!”
“Ah, then you’ll have caught me after the season will have ended and I’ll finally have some free time.” David grinned.
“YESSSS!” said Mark, punching the air.
“A penalty shoot-out is perfect. Let’s do it.” He glanced at his phone. “Let me know the exact date, who’s organizing it, and I’ll be there.”
“It’s on Friday, twenty-seventh May, at our school. In just under three weeks,” said Sami.
“Oh man, we can’t thank you enough!” I said.
“Okay, just post the details—venue and time and whatever else—through my letterbox, and I’ll see you then.” David smiled, then looked left and right and drove off.
“DID THAT JUST HAPPEN?” shouted Sami.
“YEAAAAHHH!” I screamed.
We all ran into a huddle and patted each other’s backs. Sami’s eyes sparkled, and Mark started jumping on the spot. My face hurt from how hard I was grinning.
“Okay, so we have to make some posters with David on them,” Sami practically squealed, gripping both my and Mark’s shoulders. “We should call it a VIP penalty shoot-out fundraiser!”
“Everyone’s gonna go wild when they find out!” I jumped on the spot some more.
Mark’s phone beeped, and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Let’s go make the posters at mine!” said Mark, grabbing his bike from against the wall.
“Seriously?” I said.
“What about Callum and your mum?” asked Sami, who wasn’t grinning anymore.
“They’re out. My mum messaged earlier saying she’d left some food in the oven for me, but I only just saw it now ’cause Grace messaged. We’ll have it done in half an hour! They won’t be back till after that, for sure.”
I put my hands in my pockets. “Yeah, go on then.”
Sami looked at me and raised his brows.
“What?” I said.
Sami leaned in close. “You sure we should do this?”
“Well, we haven’t got long to promote it now and we need to get some posters out. Be good to make a start today.”
“We can also make a start online. We don’t have to do it in the house where Callum lives . . .”
An engine roared on the main road, and my ears pricked. I was just about to answer Sami, when his face changed.
“OI!”
I turned to see who it was.
Oh no.
Callum was driving the Range Rover and had the front passenger window down. He stopped in the middle of the road, put one hand on the steering wheel, and leaned over Mark’s mum. His face grew red as he yelled at us, “What the hell are you two doing here? I told you I don’t wanna see you again, didn’t I?”
From the corner of my eye I saw Sami step back.
“If you don’t leave now, I won’t be responsible for what I do to ya!” He opened his door, and his shoulders emerged as he got out.
Mark’s eyes were wide. He was obviously intimidated by Callum. And I didn’t want him to get into more trouble.
I nodded at Sami. We both climbed onto our bikes. I put my feet on the pedals and we raced off.
Chapter 15
That evening, I jumped onto the sofa with a couple of cookies in my hand. I shoved one into my mouth. David Mora knew who we were, and he was going to help us!
I messaged Sami.
A: Did you tell Aadam about David?
S: Yeah! You should’ve seen his face.
A:
S: Actually
A WhatsApp video call came in. It was Sami. I swiped and saw Aadam’s face. He was close to the screen and was grinning so wide, he looked like a different person.
“Aadam! My bro!”
“I can’t believe David Mora is going to help me! Akhi, this is the best day ever. Thank you for asking him!”
“I dunno what made me ask, man. But I had a good feeling . . . It was fate.”
“Yes! Qadr. It was Qadr of Allah.”
I smiled. I hadn’t seen Aadam this happy, ever. Not even on the football pitch when he was thrashing us.
“We’re gonna get the posters up tomorrow and hopefully raise some money for your deposit this week.”
Mum came in with a mug of tea and a cookie and sat on the sofa. I pulled my legs back to make more room for her.
“Yes, I speak with Sami’s dad. He is going to help with the deposit too. And my friends at unaccompanied minor center also help me with the little savings they have.”
“Ah, cool! That’s good.”
“Okay, akhi, I have to go now. I need to finish making my baklawa before my English class at community center at seven o’clock. I can’t be late.”
“All right, bro. Enjoy. See you later.”
Sami came on. “I’ll chat to you tomorrow. We gotta eat.” He faced the camera to the floor and showed me a large plastic mat with dinner plates and rice and other dishes full of food on it. Then he showed Aadam standing in the kitchen pouring a clear liquid over a tray of what looked like cooked pastry.
“In a bit, Sami.” I put the other cookie in my mouth and hung up, putting my phone on the armrest next to me.
“What are you raising money for?” asked Mum.
“Oh . . . Aadam.” I quickly chewed down the cookie and swallowed. “His application to be a refugee was rejected ’cause he doesn’t have any paperwork and they said he’s an adult and not sixteen. So he’s got to tell the government he’s appealing before this Friday but it’s gonna cost loads to pay the lawyer to do it.”
“How much does he need?” Mum dunked a chocolate digestive in her tea and took a bite.
“About four thousand pounds.”
“FOUR THOUSAND POUNDS!” she spluttered. “How will you raise that much in a week?”
“Well, he doesn’t need all of it by Friday . . . He just needs a deposit so the lawyer will send off the appeal application. But yeah, he’ll need the rest for the other paperwork soon after, I suppose.”
“I’ll ask some friends for donations. Give me a poster too?” She took another sip of tea.
The front door slammed shut. We both sat up. I peered out of the bay window but didn’t see anything. It was probably Samira.
“Yeah, all right. We’re making them tomorrow. Thanks, Mum.”
“You doing better today?”
I looked at her as if to say, “Can we not go there,” and thankfully Samira burst into the room.
“Hey! What’s for dinner? Have you already eaten?” She slung her tartan rucksack off her shoulder and dropped it onto the floor, then took her cardigan off, her long brown hair hanging loose down her back. “I’m starving.”
“As-salaamu Alaikum, beta.” Mum pushed herself off the sofa and went to the door. “I’ll warm it up. We were waiting for you to come home. Ahmed should be getting dropped off from swimming club soon too.”
Samira followed Mum out of the room and ran upstairs. I picked up the remote and switched the TV on, thankful she’d saved me from talking to Mum about Dad again.
At lunch the next day, we met up in the library to make the posters for the penalty shoot-out. I was on PowerPoint moving text around, while Sami and Mark were telling me what looked best.
“Make ‘VIP’ red,” said Sami. “It has to be the word that everyone sees first.”
“Everyone’s gonna see David in his kit first.” I highlighted “VIP” and changed the color anyway.
“We should put these out in other schools too, you know,” said Mark, looking at his phone. “Grace said she would.”
“Yeah, she did,” said Sami, pulling his chair in closer to me.
“Yeah, but then we’d have too many people. Would David even be able to defend that many goals?” I glanced at a Year Seven who’d pulled out the chair at the computer next to me. I nodded at him as he sat down, staring at my screen. Man, I loved the googly-eyed look this poster was giving him.
“He’s saved more goals than any other goalie in the Premiership this season! He sure can!” said Mark, his arms hanging over his knees as he watched me enlarge the photo of David.
