Free Big and Clever by Dan Tunstall Page A

the last sentence out loud. “ Fans clashed in ugly scenes in the minutes after the final whistle .”
    We both laugh again, and we’re still laughing when a voice I recognise cuts in.
    â€œWhat’s so funny?” It’s Zoe.
    Instantly I’m embarrassed, caught unawares. I grab Super Goals back from Raks and shove it into my bag. It’s like cramming porn mags under the bed when I hear my dad coming up the stairs.
    â€œOh, nothing much,” I say. I slide down from the wall and give Zoe a kiss. She smells nice. Freshly washed hair and body spray. “You OK? I’ve not seen you all weekend.”
    She nods.
    â€œI tried to call you yesterday afternoon but your phone was off. Was the match good on Saturday?”
    I sniff. I’m calmer now.
    â€œYeah. It was alright.”
    Zoe smiles. She’s wearing lipstick today.
    â€œI looked out for the result on Sky ,” she says. “It was a draw wasn’t it?”
    â€œYeah. One-all. We should have won though.” I look at her and notice that her eyes are being drawn down towards my feet. Or to be more precise, my shoes. Blue and white Nikes with a red swoosh.
    â€œNo school shoes today?” she asks.
    â€œNah.” I try sound offhand. In truth my school shoes are stuffed in my bag. I took them off and changed into my Nikes the minute I got round the corner into Wolverton Road. Raks did exactly the same. We’ll be putting our jeans on as soon as we get into the toilets at Parkway.
    â€œYour dad not mind?”
    I shake my head.
    â€œNah,” I say again. But of course my dad doesn’t know.
    Zoe’s looking at my face now. There’s a flicker of concern in her eyes. She reaches up with her hand, running her fingers over the bump on my right cheek. It’s where I got punched by the blond lad, outside Southlands on Saturday.
    â€œWhat’s happened here?” she asks. Her green eyes are watching me intently.
    â€œBloody hell,” I say. “It’s like Twenty Questions . I got elbowed yesterday morning, playing for Dynamo.” I thought she might ask about my face so I already had my answer lined up. I hope it doesn’t sound too rehearsed.
    â€œLooks sore,” she says.
    I shrug.
    â€œIt’s alright.” I push my tongue into the side of my mouth, into the rough patch where my teeth mashed against the inside of my cheek. At the same time I reach up to feel the lump on the side of my head where the coin hit me. The lump’s still there, but I don’t think Zoe can see it. “Anyway, am I going to see you tonight? Mondays are usually good for you aren’t they?”
    She shakes her head.
    â€œNot tonight. I’ve got Oliver rehearsals after school, right through until seven o’clock, so I’ll be whacked out by the time I get home.”
    I raise my eyebrows.
    â€œRehearsals already?”
    She nods.
    â€œWe’ve not got long you know. It’s only six weeks, so I’m going to be staying late at college quite a lot this half term. I’ve got pages of dialogue to learn, and I have to sing a song too. That’s Your Funeral . Well, not just me. Simon too.”
    â€œSimon?” I say, trying to keep the concern out of my voice.
    â€œSimon Matthews,” Zoe says. “Mr Sowerberry. He’s really nice. You’d like him.”
    â€œRight,” I say, as cheerfully as I can.
    â€œActually, I can give you the date of the performance now.” She dips into her shoulder bag and brings out her diary. “Friday December 15th. Eight o’clock in the drama studio. You’re definitely coming, aren’t you?”
    â€œCourse,” I say.
    â€œYou too, Raks?”
    Raks nods.
    â€œCount me in.”
    I check my watch. It’s just gone quarter to eight. There’s a hiss of air brakes and I look up to see our bus at the crossroads.
    â€œRight then,” I say, picking up my bag. “Got to