Silent Striker by Pete Kalu Read Free Book Online Page B

chest, clamped his arms around him and squeezed Marcus, tugging him left, then right.
    Ordinarily, if anybody attacked Marcus like that, Marcus would have fought him off, even Horse. It wasn’t physical strength Marcus lacked, it was energy. He let Horse wrestle him to the ground.
    ‘See?’ Horse grunted, when they both tumbled down. Horse sat right on top of him and pinned Marcus’s arms to the tarmac. ‘I got the strength of three men,’ Horse said, ‘Don’t mess with me. Don’t get me mad. Ha! I’m like the Incredible Hulk! I’m gonna rip off my shirt next!’
    That was ridiculous, Marcus thought, so ridiculous it was funny.
    ‘You’re smiling now, Marky, you smiled,’ Horse said. ‘C’mon. Nothing’s ever that bad. What’s got you messed up, bro’?’
    Marcus sat up and told Horse what had happened. ‘It’s sick,’ Marcus said, ‘they’re messing with my head. I can’t take it. Why?’
    ‘I seen Miss Podborsky pick on you. It’s like you’re the cleverest black kid in the class, hell you are the cleverest kid in the class. And she don’t like it. She’s a racist, bro.’
    ‘But why?’
    ‘There’s no why to racism. It just is. But you know, we all on your side. You’re representin’ us, know what I’m saying? And we got you.’ Horse scratched his head and eased his legs. ‘We can fight back.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘I’m on the School Council. I can raise it there.’
    ‘C’mon. That’s litter-picking and recycling.’
    Horse jumped up. ‘I know! A petition! We’ll get a piece of paper with everyone’s name on it saying we object. That’ll do it. The whole team. If everyone signs, they’ll have to give in. Else it will be like the French Revolution. Off with their heads! We can say we won’t play unless they put you back on the team. A strike!’
    Horse’s enthusiasm was infectious. ‘You think they’ll listen?’ Marcus asked. ‘Ropey Face and Ozone?’
    ‘It’s worth a try. Come on,’ Horse said, standing up. ‘We’ll find the others, get them to sign up. If we rush back, we’ll hardly be late. It’s art. Miss Siddique always forgets to take the register. No one will hardly have noticed.’
    They sneaked into art and their luck was in, the register was still sitting on Miss Siddique’s desk. Somehow news of Marcus’s suspension from the team had already got around. At playtime, most of the team said they’d sign the petition. Only Leonard refused, saying it was Marcus’s own fault he’d got suspended.
    The last lesson of the day was PE. As they got changed for basketball, Horse went round to get the last few names on the petition. Mr Davies came out of his office and walked up to Marcus.
    ‘That’s enough, Marcus,’ he said, loud enough so everyone heard. ‘I know this hurts. Half an hour ago I was in Mr Wrexham’s office and told him not to do this, especially its timing, I begged him, but he refused to budge.’
    The whole team had gathered and was listening. The atmosphere in the changing room was rebellious, torch paper waiting for a match.
    ‘So your petition’s not going to work,’ continued Mr Davies. He turned round and talked to everyone. ‘Horse, you’ll make a great trade unionist one day, but you have to pick your fights. A petition’s not going to work. But we can still win the game. We can. And you’d want us to win it, wouldn’t you, Marcus? After all the work we’ve all put in: All the training in the freezing cold, David training on his birthday, Ahmed missing a funeral, Sanjay breaking his nose and playing on? You’d want us to win after all that, wouldn’t you?’
    ‘Of course,’ said Marcus awkwardly.
    ‘So let’s get a grip,’ Mr Davies rallied. ‘Tell your parents there’s a special practice session tomorrow. I’ve worked out some new tactics. Leonard, are you here?’
    ‘Yes,’ Mr Davies.
    Leonard came forward. His pleasing smile firmly in place.
    ‘Right,’ said Mr Davies. ‘We’re going to slot