Jake Cake: The Football Beast Read online

  Michael Broad spent much of his childhood gazing out of the window imagining he was somewhere more interesting.

  Now he’s a grown-up Michael still spends a lot of time gazing out of the window imagining he’s somewhere more interesting – but now he writes and illustrates books as well.

  Some of them are picture books, like Broken Bird and The Little Star Who Wished.

  Books by Michael Broad

  JAKE CAKE: THE FOOTBALL BEAST

  JAKE CAKE: THE PIRATE CURSE

  JAKE CAKE: THE ROBOT DINNER LADY

  JAKE CAKE: THE SCHOOL DRAGON

  JAKE CAKE: THE VISITING VAMPIRE

  JAKE CAKE: THE WEREWOLF TEACHER

  Jake Cake

  The Football Beast

  Michael Broad

  PUFFIN

  This book is dedicated to my friend Craig

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3

  (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd)

  Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia

  (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)

  Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi – 110 017, India

  Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand

  (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  puffinbooks.com

  First published 2008

  1

  Copyright © Michael Broad, 2008

  All rights reserved

  The moral right of the author/illustrator has been asserted

  Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by

  way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s

  prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a

  similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

  978-0-14-191812-9

  Here are three UNBELIEVABLE

  Stories about the

  times I met:

  A Beast

  A Sea Monster

  And a Phantom

  I love watching football on TV and support my local team, who are the best team ever, by the way, so when I saw a notice for the new after-school football club I signed up immediately.

  I was looking forward to the first evening of practice until I found out Simon Stokes had already been chosen as team captain. Simon is really good at sports so he always gets special treatment.

  ‘Have you come to bake us a cake, Jake?’ Simon yelled, as I ran on to the pitch. The rest of the boys laughed even though it wasn’t funny, so I reckon they just wanted to stay on the right side of the captain.

  ‘That’s original,’ I mumbled.

  A high-pitched whistle shrieked in the distance as Mr Trent sprinted up to us with a net bag full of footballs and a cardboard box. Mr Trent is our school sports teacher but acts like an army sergeant on manoeuvres.

  ‘Right, you lazy bunch of daffodils!’ Mr Trent yelled. ‘I want a lap of the pitch! GO! GO! GO!’

  Simon instantly shot off across the pitch, quickly followed by the rest of the team, and then me. All the other boys were puffing and panting to keep up with the captain, while I was happy to keep a safe distance from any more ‘cake’ comments.

  I was running along the edge of the woods, wondering if after-school football was such a good idea after all, when I saw something large and brown running alongside me through the trees.

  I slowed to a jog to get a better look when – BEEP! BEEP!

  The teacher’s whistle shrieked behind me and I nearly leapt out of my skin.

  ‘Knees up, Cake!’ yelled Mr Trent, sprinting past at high speed.

  When I looked back into the woods the creature was gone.

  By the time I finished the lap and rejoined the group, Mr Trent was pulling our new team shirts out of the box and calling our names to collect them. The shirt was really cool – red and blue striped – but when I pulled mine on it dropped down to my knees and the sleeves flapped around my arms like wings.

  It was HUGE!

  ‘Nice dress!’ Simon sniggered, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

  Simon had collected everyone’s shirt sizes the week before, and his sniggering told me he’d deliberately changed my medium to an XXXL!

  Mr Trent rolled his eyes and said I’d have to make do until a replacement could be ordered. Then he said it might not arrive in time for our first match against City Boys’ School at the end of the week!

  ‘HOORAY!’ everyone cheered, and even I forgot about my shirt.

  We were all really excited about our first match and couldn’t wait to get some practice in. Mr Trent told Simon to split his team for a five-a-side game, which would have been great, except that there were eleven of us.

  No prizes for guessing who didn’t get chosen!

  While everyone else took to the pitch for five-a-side, I was sent off to the edge to practise my dribbling skills! With the massive shirt flapping around me, I tapped the ball half-heartedly and felt absolutely miserable.

  I was thinking that after-school football was definitely the worst idea ever when I heard a rustling from the trees. I stopped dribbling the ball and peered into the woods. And there it was – the large creature I’d seen before. It was hiding behind one of two small trees and peeping through the leaves.

  At first I thought it might be a bear because it was brown and covered in fur. But it was completely the wrong shape for a bear, and I don’t think bears hide behind trees and peep through leaves. So I gave a friendly wave with my flapping sleeve to let it know I was friendly.

  BEEP! BEEP!

  The sound of Mr Trent’s whistle ripped through the air again and I froze to the spot. But when I looked back at the pitch I saw he was whistling at one of the players in the five-a-side game, and no one was looking at me at all.

  Back in the woods the creature had stepped out from his hiding place and was standing between the two trees – two trees that just happened to be the same width as a pair of goal posts! He bobbed up and down, shuffled from side to side and eagerly watched the football at my feet.

  I thought about it for a moment and realized I had two choices. I could dribble the ball along the edge of the pitch on my own and be completely bored, or I could approach the big hairy creature in the woods and risk getting eaten.

  I stepped back and booted the football far into the trees and then ran in after it.

  It was a pretty good kick, if I say so myself, and as the ball sailed through the air between the two trees I was sure it would be a goal. But suddenly the creature shot sideways, took to the air and caught it! It was a brilliant save – much better than anything I’d seen on the school pitch.

  ‘Nice one!’ I said, thinking anyone that good in goal can’t be very scary.

  ‘Thanks!’ said the creature, standing up with the ball and brushing the dried leaves from his furry legs. That’s when I looked down and saw the size of his feet – and knew exactly what kind of creature
he was.

  ‘You’re a BIGFOOT!’ I gasped.

  ‘I am,’ said the Bigfoot. ‘You’re not going to run away, are you?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘My name’s Jake.’

  ‘I’m Littlefoot,’ said the Bigfoot.

  ‘Littlefoot?’ I laughed, thinking he was making a joke.

  ‘No, that really is my name,’ said Littlefoot. ‘Because my feet are a bit small for a Bigfoot.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said, thinking other Bigfoot feet must be massive. ‘Do you live in these woods?’

  ‘No, my family are here for a week on holiday,’ he sighed. ‘But we have to stay hidden all the time, so it’s pretty boring. I’m looking forward to going home at the weekend.’

  Littlefoot explained that he had found our school pitch and enjoyed watching us play football.

  He said it reminded him of his friends back home where he was on the local Bigfoot football team.

  ‘I’m supposed to be playing on this team,’ I said, nodding back towards the field. ‘We’ve got a big match coming up but I’m not going to be ready for it without any proper practice.’

  ‘We can kick a few around,’ said Littlefoot excitedly. ‘If you want to?’

  He didn’t have to ask twice!

  While the rest of my team played five-a-side, I played one-a-side with the Bigfoot, whose big feet made him brilliant at dribbling and shooting and defending the goal, so I had to work really hard to tackle him and score.

  The time whizzed by and before I knew it Mr Trent blew the whistle to signal the end of the five-a-side game.

  ‘I’d better go,’ I said to a disappointed Littlefoot, and then ran out of the trees to rejoin the team.

  ‘Where have you been, Cake?’ asked Mr Trent.

  ‘Er, just retrieving the ball, sir,’ I said. ‘It rolled into the woods.’

  ‘Then you obviously need more ball control,’ he said.

  ‘He was probably off playing with the fairies,’ Simon sniggered, nudging the other kids to laugh at his joke. ‘Or were you making up stories about woodland trolls again?’

  ‘Whatever,’ I mumbled, because the woodland trolls were real. I got into loads of trouble last year when they kidnapped the school gerbil and I had to get it back – but I’ll tell you about that another time.

  The next evening Simon dropped me from five-a-side again and Mr Trent sent me off to work on my ball control, and this carried on for the rest of the week.

  I pretended to be disappointed, but was secretly pleased because it meant I could practise with Littlefoot.

  After four evenings of one-a-side we were really good friends.

  ‘Same time tomorrow then?’ he said, when Mr Trent blew his whistle to mark the end of practice on Thursday.

  ‘It’s the big game against City Boys’ tomorrow,’ I said, making my way back out through the trees. ‘So they’ll probably want me to play because it’s a proper eleven-aside match.’

  ‘Well, good luck,’ he said. ‘I’ll be watching and rooting for your team.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, feeling bad that Littlefoot had to stay hidden and watch the game from the trees. Then I realized I wouldn’t get to see him again as he’d be going back home at the weekend.

  ‘Here,’ I said, pulling off my massive shirt and running back to hand it to the Bigfoot.

  ‘It’ll probably fit you better than me.’

  ‘Won’t you get into trouble?’ said Littlefoot, proudly pulling on the shirt.

  ‘I’m always in trouble anyway,’ I laughed.

  I did get into trouble for ‘losing’ the massive football shirt, but luckily the new one arrived in time for the match on Friday, and it was a perfect fit. Not that anyone would get to see it, though.

  City Boys’ were a man down, so Simon had to put a player on the wings.

  ‘Great!’ I said, as I took a seat on the bench. Not only was I not getting a chance to play, I also couldn’t sneak away and play football with the Bigfoot because Mr Trent was right next to me.

  ‘I don’t know why you’re complaining,’ Simon sneered. ‘You’re the worst player, and if you want our school to win then you have to stand back and let the real players do their stuff.’

  Our team watched as the City Boys’ team poured off the bus and jogged on to the pitch, followed by their coach and what looked from a distance like a giant shark in a football shirt!

  ‘What’s that?’ Simon gasped, as the shark zigzagged behind the players, clapping and cheering and waving his fins in the air.

  ‘That’s their team mascot,’ said Mr Trent.

  ‘Why haven’t we got a mascot?’ the team grumbled to Simon.

  Simon went red in the face and shifted uncomfortably because, as team captain, it was his job to keep the players happy. Then he turned to me and pointed an accusing finger.

  ‘I told Sponge Cake there to sort out the mascot over a week ago!’ he yelled.

  ‘Wha–’ I gasped, knowing Simon was lying through his teeth.

  ‘Yeah,’ he added. ‘And all he’s done this week is slack off from practice!’

  ‘But –’ I said, as the team gathered around looking very disappointed.

  ‘As captain, I say we vote him off the team!’ Simon snarled. ‘Who’s with me?’

  I looked up at the team who were about to decide the fate of my future football career, but they weren’t listening to Simon any more, they were looking over my head at something in the trees.

  ‘COOL!’ they all said at once, while Simon’s jaw dropped.

  I turned to see Littlefoot zigzagging out of the trees, clapping and cheering and waving his hairy arms in the air. He was wearing the massive team shirt I’d given him and looked like the best team mascot EVER!

  ‘Did you do this, Jake?’ asked Mr Trent, stepping up to the Bigfoot, straightening his shirt and looking really impressed for the first time ever.

  ‘Er, yes, sir,’ I said, smiling at Littlefoot. ‘My mum sewed the costume.’

  ‘Well, you’ve done a marvellous job!’ he said, and the whole team cheered.

  Simon could have taken some credit for having chosen me to sort out the mascot, even though he hadn’t. But he was so annoyed that I was getting cheered that he pushed past the team and marched up to Littlefoot.

  ‘What’s it supposed to be, anyway?’ he snapped.

  ‘Um, it’s a Bigfoot,’ I said. ‘A football Bigfoot.’

  ‘That’s stupid,’ Simon sneered, standing on tiptoes to peer into Littlefoot’s eyes. ‘Who’s in there, anyway? Your mum?’

  Simon laughed and looked back at the team, expecting them to laugh with him. But no one did because everyone thought the new mascot was cool. Even Mr Trent seemed disappointed with Simon for being so mean-spirited.

  ‘My friend Li-Liam offered to help out,’ I stammered.

  ‘Well, I think it’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen and I refuse to play with that thing running up and down the pitch!’ said Simon, stepping up to the team. ‘Who’s with me?’

  The team all folded their arms and looked awkwardly at Mr Trent.

  ‘I’m with you,’ said Mr Trent. ‘I agree that you shouldn’t play…’

  Simon gave me his meanest sneer while Littlefoot and the team sighed heavily.

  ‘… and I think Jake should take your place,’ finished Mr Trent.

  ‘Wha–’ gasped Simon.

  ‘Anyone who has been kept out of the five-a-side games all week and still goes to so much effort for the team deserves to play,’ said Mr Trent. ‘And I think you need to sit on the bench and think about what makes a good sportsman.’

  ‘But I’m the team captain!’ yelled Simon.

  ‘Not any more,’ said Mr Trent. He plucked the captain’s badge off Simon’s shirt and pinned it firmly on mine. ‘Now, let’s see how we get on with a captain with real team spirit.’

  I’d like to say that the team cheered when I was chosen as captain. That’s what would have happened in a movie, but everyo
ne still looked awkward. Simon had spent the whole week telling everyone I was rubbish at football, and as I’d missed practice and only really played with a Bigfoot, I wasn’t sure either.

  Simon sat scowling at me throughout the whole match, but not because he’d been kept on the wings. He scowled because, to everyone’s surprise, I was actually really good!

  Having spent the whole week tackling a huge player with massive feet, regular-sized players with regular-sized feet were a doddle! I weaved in and out and ran rings around the City Boys’, while Littlefoot cheered me on (and occasionally chased the shark around the pitch).

  By the final whistle I’d scored three goals and made passes to my team that scored another five, including the winning goal!

  We thrashed City Boys’, and the team lifted Littlefoot and me on to their shoulders for a winning parade. Simon was completely fuming and kicked the bench in protest. But he must have kicked it too hard because when he came to school the following week he had a BIG FOOT of his own!