after school. Come see me try out for the team and then we can go for food afterwards.’
‘You’re on. I’d like to see you play.’
‘Thanks, Dad. Oh, and one other thing.’
‘Yes?’
‘Is it just me or are all girls nuts?’
Charles chuckled. ‘What’s Kiyomi done this time?’
‘Nothing, it’s just . . . I’m worried about her, Dad. There’s something wrong. I can feel it.’
Charles frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
Kenny’s voice was small, as if he was afraid to say the words. ‘It’s like with Mum. I think she’s ill. Really ill, as in . . . maybe dying.’
Kenny carried his meal tray to an unoccupied table in the school lunch hall and sat down. He’d been the new kid at school enough times to know how it worked. Everyone was nice enough, but they still waited to size you up. Who were you going to be: the clown; the nerd; the smart alec; the sporty one; the cool kid; the punching bag; the teacher’s pet? Every class had its own cliques and factions. Kids in those didn’t need anyone new; their groups were self-contained. That left the outsiders, those who had to fend for themselves. They would gravitate towards any new student, hoping to find an ally.
The problem was that Kenny had learned to be on his own. He had stopped trying to make friends long ago because what was the point? You always had to move on. Better not to have any at all and avoid awkward goodbyes. Except this time was different. Now he was enrolled at the American School in Japan and it was meant to be for a few years. That was going to take some getting used to, but he had been told – by a goddess no less – that he had to reach out to others or he would be emotionally stunted and never fulfil his potential.
‘You want to hear a joke?’ A girl’s voice interrupted his thoughts. ‘What did one horse say to the other horse?’
Kenny looked up to see blonde highlights, a tan complexion and a dazzling smile. ‘Huh?’
‘Why the long face?’ A giggle like bubbles popping on a sunny day. ‘Stacey Turner,’ she said, balancing her meal tray on one hand and extending the other.
Kenny half stood and shook her hand.
‘Are these seats taken?’ Stacey asked, eyeing the empty chairs.
‘No, no. Please, be my guest.’
‘That’s so sweet.’ Stacey set her tray across from Kenny’s and parked her jeans. ‘You’re the new guy, aren’t you? And from your accent I’d say you’re Australian, right?’
‘No. I’m from England actually.’
Stacey’s eyes grew even wider. ‘That is so cool. I just love English accents. Quick, say, “Would you like a cup of tea?”’
Kenny sat back. ‘I really don’t think that’s –’
‘Oh my God, you’re blushing! That is so sweet.’ Stacey wriggled round in her seat and waved to another table. Chairs scraped and three other girls hurried over, squeezing in round a bewildered Kenny.
‘This is Julianne, that’s Nikki and here’s Sarah,’ Stacey said, making the introductions. ‘Girls, this is the new guy. He’s . . .’
‘Uh, Kenny,’ he said. ‘Kenny Blackwood.’ He felt awkward, thinking how much easier it had been facing the giant crocodile.
‘He’s so cute!’ Julianne said.
‘Look, he’s blushing!’ Nikki observed.
‘From England, you say?’ Sarah added.
‘I have a confession to make,’ Stacey said to Kenny, shushing her friends. ‘Nikki bet me a thousand yen I wouldn’t come over and talk to you, but I’m going to let her off.’
‘Why’s that?’ Kenny ventured.
‘Because you’re so cute, that’s why!’ The girls rocked with laughter in their chairs while Kenny’s cheeks burned. ‘Aww, you were looking so miserable all by yourself, so I came to cheer you up,’ Stacey said. ‘It’s what we do. We’re the cheer squad.’
‘You’re cheerleaders?’ Kenny finally realised.
‘Yep.’ Stacey put a warm hand over his. ‘Say, do you play soccer? I mean, football?’
‘A little.’
‘You should try out for the team tonight. We’ll be there too.’
‘Well, uh, I was planning to –’
‘That’s so great! We’ll see you later.’
‘And we’ll be checking out your legs!’ Julianne added with a wink.
Kenny picked up his tray, no longer hungry.
Once afternoon classes had finished, Kenny hurried to the changing room. He pulled on his football kit and jogged out onto the grass for a warm-up, remembering to stretch first. He glanced up, scanning the faces of the few parents who had come to watch, more in hope than expectation.
Coach Heagney checked off the list of names and put the ten prospective players through a series of drills, having them dribble round cones, through arches, playing quick one-twos and piggy-in-the-middle, while the first team trained nearby.
‘I want to see you do as many keepie-uppies as you can in two minutes and then I’m going to give you all a practice match. There are two places up for grabs, so you’ll need to impress me, if you want to make the team,’ Heagney said, chewing a wad of gum.
‘Hey, Kenny! Kenny!’ Stacey’s voice rang out from the byline. Kenny groaned and tried to ignore the four cheerleaders shaking their pompoms and working on synchronised dance moves.
‘Woo, nice legs!’ Julianne added, laughing.
Kenny concentrated on keeping the ball in the air. He got as far as twenty-eight before a voice brayed, ‘Sorry I’m late, Coach. I had a detention.’
Heagney scowled. ‘Again? Don’t make a habit of it, Brandon. I don’t want you missing any matches for me.’
‘Whatever.’ Brandon snapped a mock salute and dropped to do fifty push-ups in front of the cheerleaders.
Coach Heagney gathered the hopefuls together and handed out training bibs. He stopped in front of Kenny. ‘What’s your name, son?’
‘Kenny, sir.’
‘I’ve been watching you. You’re looking pretty sharp. You played before?’
‘Yes,
