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    The funny thing is that there were only six of them, including Dockery. I wondered who their seventh player was.
    At lunch time Dockery saw me in the dining hall (which was just the school gym at lunch time) and sort of smirked at me, which I didn’t like, although being smirked at is much better than being bashed. I don’t think he was very worried about losing the bet.
    The Bare Bum Gang thing still raised its ugly head now and then, but, as Noah pointed out, in a couple of years nobody would remember it, and in a hundred years we’d all be dead anyway, which was a funny way of cheering us up. I think he gets some of his ideas from his dad, who is quite often depressed, which means sad when you’re a grown-up.
    Jennifer didn’t even bother talking to us any more, which suited me. But I still noticed how good she was at cartwheels. I thought about trying one myself, but I was worried it might turn into a disaster, with me in a heap on the floor. That’s the thing about cartwheels – you don’teven have the faintest idea whether or not you can do them until you try. And when you try there’s a very good chance that you’re going to look stupid. It’s amazing they ever got invented, really.
    In the afternoon Miss Bridges asked me if anything was wrong. I said I had a lot on my mind, which made her smile. I wish Miss Bridges was going to be our teacher next year as well, and not that horrible old bulldog, Miss Parks.
    We met up before tea for the last practice – I mean
training
session before the big match. I thought it was better to meet before tea, because the last time we were all a bit full, and that slows you down.
    Carl was there waiting for us, and he had his own ball, the same kind they use in the Premiership. He was doing keepy-uppy. It looked like he could go on doing it for as long as he liked. My record for keepy-uppy is three.
    Trixie wasn’t there to begin with, so wedidn’t do as much running round the pitch as usual. Instead we did more skills-based training. We practised passing the ball and dribbling, and then we had a rest and drank some water while I had a think about tactics and positions and other important things.

    Carl didn’t really join in with any of this, because he was already brilliant at the things we were practising. He mainly watched us and sometimes made a suggestion. I felt a bit funny with him watching us like that. It made me more useless than ever, and Jamie and The Moan weren’t much better.Carl laughed at Jamie’s gloves, and I thought he was going to go home, but he didn’t.
    I was pleased with Oliver and Luke, who were really excellent at passing and dribbling. I decided to put them in midfield, where they could do most of the work. Carl would play up front, and the rest of us would be the defence, as all we were really good at was getting in the way, and that might be quite useful if we were getting in the way of their attackers.
    â€˜We’re going to be playing three-two-one,’ I said when I’d worked it all out.
    â€˜Eh?’ said Jamie.
    â€˜The Christmas-tree formation. Three at the back – that’s me, The Moan and Noah – two in midfield that’s Luke and Oliver – and one up front – that’s Carl.’
    â€˜What about me?’ said Jamie. ‘Why don’t I get mentioned?’
    â€˜I don’t know why, but they never count the goalie when they talk about the formation.’
    â€˜Well, I don’t care. Unless you include me I’m not playing.’
    I heard Carl sniggering at this.
    â€˜Fine, we’ll be playing one-three-two-one. It’s still sort of a Christmas tree, but now Jamie is the wooden bit at the bottom.’
    â€˜The trunk,’ said Noah.
    â€˜More like the pot,’ said Carl, and sniggered again underneath his floppy fringe.
    And that’s how our final practice – I mean
training
session ended. Not