Shoot to Win Read Online Free Page B

you do, Jamie,” said Mike, smiling. It was as though he knew something Jamie didn’t. “Your feet know exactly what to do.”
    Jamie stood over the football and stared at it. He still couldn’t see the connection between the ball and what they had just been talking about.
    Then Mike did the funniest thing; he got a black felt-tip pen and drew two big eyes on the ball.
    All of a sudden, Jamie could see it. The ball was the mouse’s head!

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    Without thinking, Jamie put his left foot over the ball, where the ear would be, swished his right foot around the ball as close as he could to shave the head and then brought his left foot back to knock the ball away.
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    Step on his ear.
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    Shave his head.
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    Knock him away. As he did it, he just knew; it was the perfect step-over.
    â€œThat’s it!” said Mike. “And explode away when you go!”
    â€œI can do this!” said Jamie, dragging the ball back into position to do another one.
    â€œOf course you can,” said Mike. “Now keep doing it; practise it until it becomes natural to your whole body.”
    Jamie did one after another, each time repeating under his breath: “Step, shave and knock … step, shave and knock.”
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    After a while, his feet seemed to work by themselves. They knew how to do a real step-over.
    â€œLooking good,” said Mike, going to make himself a cup of tea. “Reckon you’ll use it in the Cup Final?”
    â€œMight just do that!” said Jamie, proudly. Then he swapped over to work the trick on his other foot.
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    Before Assembly, there was a big crowd of people standing around Dillon. It was as if he’d already made his debut for Hawkstone.
    Jamie sat down and tried to read the sports pages of his paper. He wanted to work out how many points Hawkstone were behind Foxborough in the league table. It was impossible, though. All Jamie could hear was Dillon’s voice.
    â€œYeah, I’ll have an agent soon,” he was saying. “They’ll sort out the contract and everything – I’ll just turn up and play.”
    â€œWow, that’s so cool!” said a group of girls who had joined the crowd. They were pushing one another to get closer to Dillon. “How much money are you going to earn?”
    â€œA lot. And the best bit about it is that it’s the stupid fans like him who’ll be paying my wages!”
    Jamie didn’t have to look up to know that Dillon was pointing at him. He could feel his forehead burning as he sensed everyone’s eyes on him.
    â€œPoor old Johnson,” Dillon continued. “Sooner or later he’s got to accept the fact that he just ain’t gonna be a player. That’s it, mate – you read about the professionals. You’re never gonna be one.”
    Jamie ignored him and turned the page of the newspaper. It was best not to get involved; whenever he and Dillon had a fight, it was always Jamie who ended up coming off worse.
    â€œYou’ll go to watch Hawkstone with your granddaddy and you’ll be cheering me on when I score a goal. You’ll probably even tell people you know me!”
    The group around Dillon were starting to laugh. Even the girls. Jamie tried to force a smile to make it look as though he didn’t care what Dillon said. He knew one thing, though: he would never cheer anything that Dillon did. Ever.
    â€œI mean the only person that actually likes him is Jack – and she’s way too fit to be going out with a minger like him! I might have her myself, actually. Footballers can get any girl they want. And she needs a real man, not a—”
    That was too much.
    â€œYeah?” said Jamie, putting his paper down and snarling fiercely at Dillon. “And why would any girl be interested in someone with big, fat spots all over their face?”
    â€œOooooh!” the group around Dillon said in