Read The Set Up for Free Online

whenever it got too close. I was totally in the match, in the moment, only barely aware of Jack sitting beside me, watching me.
    The score remained at two-all for a long time. I was so focused on the game that it was a shock when he leaned over and said, ‘Only five minutes to go, Nico.’
    That meant only five minutes for the winning goal to be scored. And the run of play for the past half an hour had definitely been with Arsenal. Panicking, I lurched forward in my seat, willing the ball to move down the pitch. Of course, as soon as I started trying so hard, the ball refused to move. I glanced at the clock. Only three minutes to go. Two minutes . . . Ketty’s face flashed in front of my eyes, Billy’s diamond earrings dangling from her ears.
    I had to make this work. I couldn’t let Billy buy her away from me. I had to show Ketty how much I cared about her . . .
     

    I looked at the clock again. Only one minute of the match remained. A hush descended on the football stadium, as if the crowd had given up and accepted the two-all draw.
    I had to help Sweeton score. But there was less than a minute to go and the ball wouldn’t move for me any more. I could feel the panic swirling inside me. And then Jack put his hand on my shoulder.
    ‘Breathe,’ he whispered.
    I breathed in, then out. My body released its tension. I focused once again on the game. The midfielders from both teams were fighting over the ball in the middle of the pitch. I waited for a Sweeton player to get a touch. Then I breathed in and lifted the ball. Yes. It soared all the way down the field. I breathed out. The ball bounced and swerved, just shy of the goal. Pushing away the anxious knot in my gut, I tried again.
    This time the ball flew into the crowd. Crucial seconds passed while a new ball was produced. A corner. I glanced at the clock again.
    Oh, crap. We were already in extra time.
    ‘You can do this, Nico,’ Jack whispered.
    I breathed in as the Sweeton player stepped up to the corner flag. Breathed out as the ball rose into the air. My eyes held it as it curved. It was going to miss the goal. The crowd were chanting a countdown.
    ‘Ten. Nine.’
    I leaned with the ball, every fibre of my being flowing with it through the air.
    ‘Eight. Seven. Six.’
    Just a little push. The slightest touch. I nudged the ball with my mind, my hands mirroring the movement.
    ‘Five. Four. Three.’
    Wham! It thudded into the back of the net.
    The Sweeton supporters roared. The final whistle blew.
    I sat back, out of breath, exhausted.
    The Sweeton player who’d taken the corner looked completely shocked that he’d scored. He was soon buried under his cheering team mates.
    ‘Nico?’
    I turned. Jack was open-mouthed, an expression of awe on his face. ‘That was amazing,’ he said. ‘I honestly didn’t think you’d be ready for that.’
    My heart sank. ‘So you were kidding about the bet, then?’
    ‘Not at all.’ Jack leaped up from his seat. ‘I just meant I was prepared to lose the money. But you did it. Come on, let’s go and collect our winnings.’
    By the time we got back to Jack’s mews house I was starving, but triumphant. Jack swung the car into the garage where I’d practised with the tyre the previous week. He parked up, then produced a thick wedge of ten-pound notes from his wallet. I waited while he counted out forty pounds.
    ‘My original bet,’ he said, tucking the money into his pocket. He held out the rest of the cash to me. ‘For you. That was awesome , Nico. Amazing. You’re a complete bloody natural.’
    I stared at the money, suddenly unsure. ‘How much is there?’ I stammered.
    ‘Well, I bet forty quid at six to one, so you work it out.’ Jack grinned and offered the cash to me again, but I shook my head. Now that the money was in front of me, it felt somehow wrong to take it.
    ‘I don’t know . . .’ I rubbed my sweaty hands down my jeans.
    ‘Don’t know what?’
    ‘Um . . .’ I thought back to the football