The Story of Tom Brennan Read Online Free
Author: J.C. Burke
over to where Harvey stood. I couldn't see Brendan so I followed Jonny.
'Remember the rules.' Michael juggled the ball as he spoke. 'No playing the ball and no running off the mark. Understood?'
They answered with a few grunts.
'Let's go, boys. North of the river to my left, south to my right,' he directed.
Players ranging from about sixteen to thirty-odd shuffled into two groups.
'Marcus, what are you doing on the south side?'
'Come on, Sir.' A stocky guy with a head that looked like a pit bull stepped out of our group, the south side. He was a Year Twelve I'd had the intro to earlier. 'I've only been living on the north side four months.'
'Doesn't matter,' answered Harvey. 'Them's the rules.'
'But Sir, my heart's in the south.'
'And your dick's in the north,' one of them muttered. They all started laughing like it was the biggest joke ever. 'Marcus, the numbers are uneven. There are eleven players on the south and nine on the north.'
'So?'
'So, you live in Hartley Road now which is on the north side of the river, therefore you play on that team.'
'What about him, Sir?' The prick pointed at me. 'Why can't he play north side?'
'He's playing for Brendan,' said a guy called Rory. 'And Brendan's from south of the river.'
'He lives here now, Marcus.' Jonny spoke softly. 'So do what Coach says.'
For a couple of seconds there was silence. Then Marcus walked over to the other team.
'Okay.' Michael blew the whistle.
'He can be a wanker,' Rory told me. 'Don't worry about him. He's harmless.'
But there was something I seemed to have missed. 'Jonny, where's Brendan? I thought he was playing.'
'No,' Jonny shook his big head. 'We needed even numbers.'
'Oh? I, um . . .'
'Come on,' he smiled. 'You'll be right.'
A tall, wiry guy from the north side kicked off. Up and under, the ball went high, hoping one of us'd drop it. No such luck, thanks to Jonny who caught and passed to Rory in one movement. Rory took off, and before I knew it I was alongside him, running hard. I couldn't help it. It felt so natural.
Rory passed me the ball, a sparkle in his eyes. 'Go you good thing,' he laughed.
I held the ball, remembering how it became an extension of my hands, a part of me. Twenty metres till the try-line.
My breath echoed through my head, loud and fast, as my legs charged down the field. It was all in a split second yet it was the most freedom I'd felt in months. No pain, no bad thoughts. Maybe I could just keep running.
From the corner of my eye I spotted the wanker, Marcus, trying to catch me. My body switched into automatic. I propped off my left foot and came back inside. He should've expected it but he was still busy sulking, not thinking. He couldn't change direction quick enough. I left him clutching at thin air. 1–0, thank you.
Jonny, Rory and I carved them up. We were quite a trio – cut-outs, flick passes, scissors and soft hands were the flavour of the day. We ran the north side ragged, they were puffing and spitting after eating dust for an hour. We were too good. Final score, 12–3.
Everyone shook my hand, saying things like 'good game mate' and 'you've played before'. I went along with it, shaking hands and slapping backs too, but in the pit of my guts I could feel the emptiness returning.
'We blitzed 'em,' said Rory.
'Yeah.'
'See you tomorrow, eh?'
Tomorrow? I felt my heart slip to the ground. That was the thing I couldn't quite get my head around – there would be a tomorrow, and a day after that, and a day after that. The world went on regardless of how I felt.
THREE
The next morning, Dad dropped Kylie and me at the side entrance to our new school. I think he knew how she'd react if he dropped her at the front gate, he'd read that well ahead.
The morning had been tense. I kicked a ball around to settle my nerves while Kylie spent hours in the bathroom. At first I thought she might've been throwing up but she was doing stuff to her hair. What, I couldn't tell you. It looked like she'd stuck her
'Remember the rules.' Michael juggled the ball as he spoke. 'No playing the ball and no running off the mark. Understood?'
They answered with a few grunts.
'Let's go, boys. North of the river to my left, south to my right,' he directed.
Players ranging from about sixteen to thirty-odd shuffled into two groups.
'Marcus, what are you doing on the south side?'
'Come on, Sir.' A stocky guy with a head that looked like a pit bull stepped out of our group, the south side. He was a Year Twelve I'd had the intro to earlier. 'I've only been living on the north side four months.'
'Doesn't matter,' answered Harvey. 'Them's the rules.'
'But Sir, my heart's in the south.'
'And your dick's in the north,' one of them muttered. They all started laughing like it was the biggest joke ever. 'Marcus, the numbers are uneven. There are eleven players on the south and nine on the north.'
'So?'
'So, you live in Hartley Road now which is on the north side of the river, therefore you play on that team.'
'What about him, Sir?' The prick pointed at me. 'Why can't he play north side?'
'He's playing for Brendan,' said a guy called Rory. 'And Brendan's from south of the river.'
'He lives here now, Marcus.' Jonny spoke softly. 'So do what Coach says.'
For a couple of seconds there was silence. Then Marcus walked over to the other team.
'Okay.' Michael blew the whistle.
'He can be a wanker,' Rory told me. 'Don't worry about him. He's harmless.'
But there was something I seemed to have missed. 'Jonny, where's Brendan? I thought he was playing.'
'No,' Jonny shook his big head. 'We needed even numbers.'
'Oh? I, um . . .'
'Come on,' he smiled. 'You'll be right.'
A tall, wiry guy from the north side kicked off. Up and under, the ball went high, hoping one of us'd drop it. No such luck, thanks to Jonny who caught and passed to Rory in one movement. Rory took off, and before I knew it I was alongside him, running hard. I couldn't help it. It felt so natural.
Rory passed me the ball, a sparkle in his eyes. 'Go you good thing,' he laughed.
I held the ball, remembering how it became an extension of my hands, a part of me. Twenty metres till the try-line.
My breath echoed through my head, loud and fast, as my legs charged down the field. It was all in a split second yet it was the most freedom I'd felt in months. No pain, no bad thoughts. Maybe I could just keep running.
From the corner of my eye I spotted the wanker, Marcus, trying to catch me. My body switched into automatic. I propped off my left foot and came back inside. He should've expected it but he was still busy sulking, not thinking. He couldn't change direction quick enough. I left him clutching at thin air. 1–0, thank you.
Jonny, Rory and I carved them up. We were quite a trio – cut-outs, flick passes, scissors and soft hands were the flavour of the day. We ran the north side ragged, they were puffing and spitting after eating dust for an hour. We were too good. Final score, 12–3.
Everyone shook my hand, saying things like 'good game mate' and 'you've played before'. I went along with it, shaking hands and slapping backs too, but in the pit of my guts I could feel the emptiness returning.
'We blitzed 'em,' said Rory.
'Yeah.'
'See you tomorrow, eh?'
Tomorrow? I felt my heart slip to the ground. That was the thing I couldn't quite get my head around – there would be a tomorrow, and a day after that, and a day after that. The world went on regardless of how I felt.
THREE
The next morning, Dad dropped Kylie and me at the side entrance to our new school. I think he knew how she'd react if he dropped her at the front gate, he'd read that well ahead.
The morning had been tense. I kicked a ball around to settle my nerves while Kylie spent hours in the bathroom. At first I thought she might've been throwing up but she was doing stuff to her hair. What, I couldn't tell you. It looked like she'd stuck her
Readers choose
Unknown
Nora Roberts
Lynn LaFleur
J. W. Murison
Carol Higgins Clark
Elizabeth Meyer
tonya kappes
Betsy St. Amant
Trish McCallan