Extra Time by Morris Gleitzman Read Free Book Online

can’t actually speak. I can see Matt and Uncle Cliff are the same.
    â€˜Ken brought them,’ says Terrine. ‘Superstores in Australia, remember?’
    Oh, yeah,’ says Gazz. ‘Wotcha.’
    While we all struggle to say g’day, Gazz drags the statue out of the goal.
    â€˜You play?’ he says to Uncle Cliff.
    â€˜Just a bit of drums,’ mumbles Uncle Cliff.
    Gazz gives him a look, then chuckles.
    â€˜Shame,’ he says. ‘Elton John was here last week.’
    I take a deep breath and try to stay calm. My heart wants to leap out of my chest and do joyful cartwheels down the pitch. Not because of Elton John. Because I’ve just noticed something.
    Gazz isn’t that chunky.
    He’s more muscly than Matt, but in no way is he mega-chunky. So it is possible to be a Premier League star without being two hundred kilos of beef.
    â€˜My brother Matt plays soccer,’ I say. ‘He’s very good.’
    â€˜Is that right?’ says Gazz, looking at Matt. ‘Alright nipper, in goal.’
    I start to explain that Matt isn’t really a goalie, but Gazz dribbles a ball away down the pitch. Matt goes in goal. Gazz does a few shots. Matt throws himself at each ball, but they all get past him.
    â€˜Good try,’ says Gazz to Matt each time.
    â€˜He’s not really a goalie,’ I say.
    But Gazz doesn’t hear me. He’s distracted by Ken arriving with the media, who are a man with a video camera and a woman with a microphone on a pole.
    â€˜This is for Australian TV,’ Ken explains to Gazz.
    â€˜Righty-o,’ says Gazz. ‘We’d better see our Aussie in action then.’ He turns to Matt. ‘Me in goal, you on penalties.’
    â€˜Actually,’ says Matt, ‘can I do some long shots?’
    â€˜Knock yourself out,’ says Gazz, jiggling up and down between the goal posts and giving Ken a wink.
    Matt pulls his phone out of his jeans pocket and hands it to me. He always does that when he’s planning to do some big kicks.
    He takes a ball halfway towards the middle of the pitch. Then he turns and shoots. The ball misses the goal by miles.
    â€˜Sorry,’ says Matt.
    I think his legs might be a bit stiff after the flight. Metal leg pins can do that. But I don’t say anything. If the club finds out he’s got metal in his legs, even a tiny bit, they might not give him a fair go.
    â€˜He’s nervous,’ I say to Gazz. ‘We’ve never played with goal nets before.’
    â€˜Come closer,’ calls Gazz to Matt. ‘Give yourself a chance.’
    Matt moves a ball two steps closer to the goal and shoots. Gazz doesn’t move. He doesn’t think he needs to. Then he realises he should have done. The ball’s in the back of the net.
    â€˜Woah,’ says Gazz to Uncle Cliff. ‘What you been feeding him?’
    Uncle Cliff thinks about this.
    â€˜Bacon and eggs,’ he says. ‘And we had some pork and pistachio paté on the plane.’
    â€˜Shall I do more?’ says Matt, lining up another ball.
    â€˜Bring it on,’ says Gazz, really concentrating now, crouching and flexing his shoulders.
    Matt does six more shots. Gazz does some really spectacular dives, but he doesn’t touch the ball once.
    I’m hoping that with each goal Matt scores, Gazz will be more and more impressed. It’s not working out that way. He’s getting more and more irritated.
    Gazz picks himself up for the sixth time and rubs his neck.
    â€˜We need a new bed,’ he says to Terrine. ‘That water bed’s doing my back in.’
    Terrine doesn’t look like she agrees. I need to be a manager quickly.
    â€˜I know,’ I say. ‘Let’s play blindfold penalties.’
    Ken frowns.
    â€˜I think we’ve got enough on video,’ he says, looking nervously at Gazz.
    â€˜Blindfold penalties?’ says Gazz. ‘I haven’t played that since I was