Tekkers: Turf Wars E-Book

Seth Burkett

• Herausgeber: Polaris
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Serie: Tekkers
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 287

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

Never give up on what you believe. Redwood Rovers FC are in trouble. The council wants to sell the club's pitches to a property developer. With no money to spare, Redwood's very future is threatened. Until Zak hears about the YouTube Allstars Cup. It's a football tournament for teams of social media influencers. Best of all, there's a cash prize of £500,000. Can Zak lead his team to victory and save Redwood Rovers? Tekkers 2: Turf Wars, shows how one simple hashtag can go much further than a single social media post, engaging an entire generation into inspiring change for good.

Leseprobe

This edition first published in 2021 by

POLARIS PUBLISHING LTD

c/o Aberdein Considine2nd Floor, Elder HouseMultrees WalkEdinburghEH1 3DX

Distributed byBirlinn Limited

www.polarispublishing.com

Text copyright © Seth Burkett, 2021

ISBN: 9781913538415eBook ISBN: 9781913538422

The right of Seth Burkett to be identified as the authors of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form, or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.

The views expressed in this book do not necessarily reflect the views, opinions or policies of Polaris Publishing Ltd (Company No. SC401508) (Polaris), nor those of any persons, organisations or commercial partners connected with the same (Connected Persons). Any opinions, advice, statements, services, offers, or other information or content expressed by third parties are not those of Polaris or any Connected Persons but those of the third parties. For the avoidance of doubt, neither Polaris nor any Connected Persons assume any responsibility or duty of care whether contractual, delictual or on any other basis towards any person in respect of any such matter and accept no liability for any loss or damage caused by any such matter in this book.

Every effort has been made to trace copyright holders and obtain their permission for the use of copyright material. The publisher apologises for any errors or omissions and would be grateful if notified of any corrections that should be incorporated in future reprints or editions of this book.

All names and trademarks are the property of their respective owners, which are in no way associated with Polaris Publishing Ltd. Use of these names does not imply any cooperation or endorsement. Panther Sports is a fictional company. Any association with real life individuals, companies and organisations is entirely for fictional purposes and does not imply any cooperation or endorsement.

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication DataA catalogue record for this book is available on request from the British Library.

Designed and typeset by Polaris Publishing, EdinburghPrinted in Great Britain by MBM Print, East Kilbride

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

“Yes, yes guys! It’s TekkerZak here, the greatest YouTuber in the world, and today I’ve got some tekkers for you. That’s right, some absolute gold. It’s as if my skills were sent from another universe. Of course, there’s no doubting that I’m the king of the internet, the sickest in the game, the best looking, the most intelligent, the aaaarrrggghhhh!”

Chris fell to the ground in shock, his mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ in surprise. Mud and who-knows-what else splattered up at him, nestling into his fluffy black hair. “Yeurgh!” Chris cried in disgust, frantically wiping his expressive face with his sleeve and spitting out the dirt that now lay inside his mouth. Desperately he searched for the object that had put him off his stride. He didn’t have to look far. The ball, booted from Zak’s size six golden boot, had cannoned back off Chris’s wiry backside and come to a stop in the bushes that lined the Redwood Rec, home of Redwood Rovers FC. While Chris winced and wiped himself off, those around him doubled over with laughter.

“You forgot the part where all of Zak’s millions of followers have to keep it tekk,” Chloe added, wiping a tear of laughter from her face. She might have been best mates with Zak, but she certainly wasn’t averse to having a laugh at his expense.

“What did you do that for?” Chris demanded of Zak, rubbing his backside with far more force than was necessary. “That was the perfect impression!”

“The likeness wasn’t bad, I’ll give you that,” Zak admitted, his round, boyish face curving into a smile to complement his twinkling brown doe-eyes. “I just thought you were being a bit too humble so I had to stop you.”

“Well you can go and fetch the ball then. Whoever kicks it gets it.”

“Okay, okay, chill!”

Zak chuckled to himself as he jogged through the worn patches of grass and sloppy mud that made up the Redwood Rec pitches, cautiously avoiding the numerous dog poos on his way to the ball. All was right with the world. The summer holidays had been one long, continuous series of kickabouts and laughs with his mates. One day had fallen into the next, the sun always high in the sky and the freedom of possibility always present. Really, that meant the possibility of football, football and more football. Followed by a dessert of football.

Extraordinary had returned to ordinary with incredible swiftness.

Just weeks before the holidays Zak had been a megastar with millions of adoring fans, his own merchandise line, his own agent, his own brand deals, anything and everything he thought he had ever wanted. And yet nothing had beaten this summer holiday. After tricking his former agent, Tony Curtis, and storming off the set of a shoot there were no more requests. There was no longer pressure to post on social media. No television appearances to scuttle to or adverts to film. His face had gone from being everywhere to nowhere, and Zak wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Are we finishing this game of Wembleys then?” Chloe’s voice sounded from the goalmouth as she readjusted her blonde ponytail. “I’m all for taking the mick out of Zak but I can’t help but feel like you’re trying to stop me from winning.”

“Of course we’re trying to stop you from winning,” Marcus protested, his voice as dramatic as ever. “What else would we be doing?”

“Perhaps you could try and stop me from winning by playing better?”

“She’s got a point,” Chris added, already moving on from his embarrassment. “You are playing pretty terribly.”

“She’s playing against you too!” Marcus retorted, thrusting his long arms wide at the suggestion. Chris shrugged as if that wasn’t important.

“Just let me get the winner and I’ll give you all a rest,” Chloe reasoned.

“As if,” Zak returned with the ball. “There’s no chance I’m letting you win.”

Standing in goal – partly because he was the tallest, but also because he was the laziest – Josh booted the ball high into the air to resume the game. In stark contrast to Josh, when Chloe and Zak played football there was no such thing as a friendly. Every kickabout was a test, a competition to see who was best.

And today Chloe was winning.

With his eye on the ball the whole way, Zak assessed the heights and angles, then raced to where he expected it to land. Mud spewed from his heels as his studs dug into the soft turf with each stride. His legs whirred manically, trying to make up for his much shorter strides. There was one problem: Chloe. While Chris and Marcus lagged behind them as always, Chloe had sprung into action. She too skated across the turf, her arms pumping the air as her athletic limbs worked their magic. She had the advantage as the ball dropped down from the air, reaching the spot where it’d land first. She extended her right foot and hooked a toe around the ball as it met her leather boot, dragging it further away from Zak while also pivoting her body to block him. Strength had never been one of his best assets, especially given his small frame, and Chloe held him off with ease. He desperately attempted to wrap his foot around her body but she was too clever, fending him off and then turning toward goal. This wasn’t good. He needed possession of the ball. He needed—

The sound was deafening. A crash that reverberated around the Rec. Chloe and Zak stopped in their tracks, the ball bouncing away, forgotten as they searched for the source.

“I won’t have it!” a voice thundered. Zak could recognise that voice anywhere. It belonged to Mr Jones, head coach at Redwood Rovers FC. “This is unacceptable. Unacceptable!” Zak glanced at Chloe who looked equally puzzled. Mr Jones rarely lost his cool. Then Zak spotted a middle-aged man that he had never seen before rapidly retreating from the entrance of the Redwood Rovers clubhouse, Mr Jones following behind. Mr Jones’s strides were long and purposeful, the movements of a man who never likes to mess around. The ever-present whistle, used thousands of times over the years to direct his players in new training drills, bounced off his muscular chest with every step.

“I’m afraid my hands are tied,” the man said defensively, cowering into his car as quickly as possible. “We need the money. Desperately. We spent everything we had battling that virus. It’s wiped us out!”

“Well find another way,” Mr Jones demanded, this time a little quieter. “You can’t do this. You’re playing with people’s lives. They need an outlet, an escape. Sport provides that.”

The man shut his car door as if he couldn’t get rid of Mr Jones quickly enough. The car was a battered five-door that was doubtless older than Zak. Specks of paint faded into rust. Everything about the man was worn, from his expression to his car. The way his shoulders hunched forward suggested that he was worn down from the very pressure of life. The fabric of his clothes appeared to be eating away at itself, as if embarrassed to be seen in public. He wound down the window, turning one last time to Mr Jones. “I’m afraid my hands are tied,” he repeated, before turning the ignition and spluttering his way out of the car park. Mr Jones stood and watched him go, arms folded.

“That’s it, the winner!” Chris’s ecstatic voice was a million miles away from the tension of what was happening in front of their very eyes. “And from nowhere, Chris takes the crown of Wembley singles champion!” While everyone else had been transfixed by the dramatic scene, Chris had spotted his opportunity. The ball now nestled in the goal, Chris wheeling off with his arms out in celebration. Mr Jones spun on his heels at the sound, spotting their group for the first time.

“Team,” he nodded. Zak, Chloe, Josh, Marcus and Chris all played for Mr Jones’s Redwood Rovers team. They had done for years. Mr Jones had taught them everything. He’d been the one to tie their shoelaces when they were too young to know better and the one to teach them the intricacies of the 4-2-3-1 when they were old enough to understand strategies.

“Hi, Mr Jones,” they replied in unison. The coach liked it when they called him Mr Jones. He felt it gave them discipline. And if there was one thing that a young footballer needed, it was discipline.

“We were just practising for the new season,” Chloe added.

“Good,” Mr Jones replied, composing himself. “That’s good. You need to practise hard to become a top player. Have I ever told you about the 10,000 hours rule?”

Only every single week of my life, Zak thought. It was one of Mr Jones’s key pieces of wisdom. To be elite at something, anything, you had to train with purpose for more than 10,000 hours.

“I’m getting closer to 10,000 hours. I keep a chart. I’m almost halfway there!” Chloe explained.

“Good, that’s . . . good.” Mr Jones seemed distracted. He looked at them with his eyes but his mind was elsewhere.

“What was that all about?” Chris asked, having returned to the group after realising that nobody was watching his celebration. “Who was that bloke?”

“It’s nothing, don’t worry. Nothing at all,” Mr Jones said. “Right, team. I’ve got work to do. See you soon.”

“But Mr—” Chris began, but Mr Jones had already disappeared.

“Wow,” Marcus summed up.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Zak added.

“Me either,” Chloe agreed. “I’ve never seen Mr Jones like that. Whatever that was, it certainly was not nothing.”

They were right to be suspicious. The very next morning, the local newspaper, the Redwood Review, ran an exclusive story splashed across its front page which shouted at Zak from across the breakfast table.

BREAKING NEWS: REDWOOD REC TO BE SOLD TO PROPERTY DEVELOPERBy Cynthia Johnson

“What’s that?” Zak asked his dad with alarm. Surely that couldn’t be true?

“Here, son. I’ve had a read of that. It doesn’t look good.” Zak’s dad passed the newspaper across the table. Zak grabbed hold of the crumpled paper and spun it around.

Plans are underway for the Redwood Recreation Ground to be sold to international property developer New Start Homes. The dealpromises millions of pounds worth of investment into Redwood. Up to 100 homes will be built on the land.

Local councillor Nigel Lewis commented: “This is fantastic news for Redwood. I welcome investment into our great town which will help us become richer. New Start Homes are a fantastic business providing fantastic housing and I cannot wait to work with them.”

Property developer Fergus Furley-Flint added: “Redwood is the hot new attraction right now. With excellent transport links and a tight-knit community, these homes are sure to be snapped up quickly.”

The Redwood Review understands that the deal is yet to be completed. Such a move puts beloved local club Redwood Rovers at risk. The Rovers have played at the Redwood Recreation Ground since their formation in 1949. They rent the ground from the council. Such an arrangement would not be possible with the new housing development, bringing into question the very existence of the club.

A meeting is due to take place at 7pm tonight (Friday 21st August) at the Redwood Recreation Ground clubhouse, where Fergus Furley-Flint will share his plans for the future and welcome questions from the local community. All are invited.

“No!” Zak exclaimed after reading the final paragraph. He threw the paper on to the table in anger, still not quite believing what he’d read. The Redwood Rec belonged to Redwood Rovers. Everyone who had ever played football in Redwood had learned the game there. It was the life and soul of the community. The place where every football game in Redwood was played. “I have to go to that meeting,” he announced.

“I know you do,” his dad replied soothingly. He understood. Everyone who had ever played football in Redwood understood. “Redwood Rovers have been good to you,” he added.

‘Good to you’ was an understatement. Redwood Rovers was Zak’s life. Playing in the navy blue of the Rovers was what motivated him to get out of bed every morning. Without Redwood Rovers, he didn’t know what he’d do. Go back to being a social media star? No, that life wasn’t for him. School? He was a mediocre pupil at best. Sure, he could join another team, perhaps even an academy. He knew he was good enough, but it just wouldn’t be the same. There were hundreds of thousands of other football clubs, but not one of them was like Redwood Rovers FC.

“I’ll see if Chloe fancies it.”

Zak reached into his pocket, only to find that Chloe was one step ahead of him. So were all of his other friends. Their WhatsApp group, jokingly called Redwood Legends, was abuzz with messages. Zak had no idea that the Redwood Review was so widely read. He wasn’t even aware that Chris had ever read a book in his life, let alone a newspaper. Yet there his message was, as clear as black and white.

Chris: I’m willing to fight Fergus if needed! I’ve got my black belt in karate and I ain’t afraid to use it

Chloe: Great but perhaps we can come up with a better plan

Chris: What’s better than karate?

Chloe: Everything, for starters

Chris: Not convinced

Chloe: How about we meet at just before 7pm outside the clubhouse

Marcus: In

Josh: In

Chris: I’ll bring my best karate moves

Chloe: Zak, I’ll come 2 yours and we’ll go together

Chloe: Zak . . .?

Zak: Yes defiantly!!

Chloe: We will be defiant, but I think you mean definitely . . .

Seven pm took a long time to come around. Chloe joined Zak just after lunch and the pair set about knocking a ball back and forth as usual before playing a few games of FIFA. Neither were at their best. It was hard to concentrate when all thoughts were on the meeting that evening. Chloe was convinced they could fight the plans. Zak wasn’t so sure.

Even though they arrived early, it seemed to Zak that half of Redwood was stuffed inside the clubhouse. People he hadn’t seen for months jostled for positions on the chairs that had been unfolded and set out in rows. At the front of the modest room sat two chairs behind a desk. A microphone on top of the desk was wired up to an amplifier so that all would be able to hear. All around them stood memorabilia from Redwood Rovers’ glorious history. Reminders of the past. Pennants from teams as far away as the USA and Dubai hung on the clubhouse walls. Team photos were everywhere. Trophies from years gone past spilled out of a cabinet in the corner. The room probably hadn’t been refurbished in the best part of fifty years, Zak thought.

“Mr Jones!” Zak exclaimed upon seeing his coach in the crowd. “Over here.”

Mr Jones nodded at Zak, then carried on moving toward the front. Understandably, he seemed distracted. If Redwood Rovers went out of business, so too would Mr Jones. He was employed full-time by the club and did everything from running training sessions to putting up the goal nets.

“You should have got Chloe to say ‘hello’ instead.” Zak spun around to find Chris with Josh and Marcus. As usual, he was smiling. “After all, she was top scorer last season.”

“Have you ever scored?” Zak asked with a hint of mischief. Of course Chris had never scored. Chris opened his mouth to respond but at that exact moment the amplifier roared into life.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for joining us tonight.” It was the man that they’d seen in the car park the day before. Zak could recognise that defeated posture anywhere. He’d put on a rumpled grey suit for the event yet still seemed as if his whole being was fading away. From his position behind the microphone, a spotlight shone directly down on to a bald patch. “This is an exciting time for Redwood.” Zak was relieved to see that the hundreds of eyes watching the man appeared to be far from excited. Most appeared to be downright angry. “I’m Nigel Lewis, your councillor for Redwood. Tonight I’ll be joined by Fergus Furley-Flint, the head of New Start Homes. So without further ado, please welcome Fergus.”

Nigel pushed his hands together in an enthusiastic clap, only to stop when he realised that nobody else in the room was clapping. Not that it seemed to put off Fergus. He didn’t walk so much as bound up to the desk.

“Thank you, thank you!” he said to the audience, raising a hand and flashing a smile. A chunky watch clung to his wrist. A Rolex, Zak guessed. The suit was certainly designer with its figure-hugging navy blazer and trousers tailored to the absolute millimetre.

“Nobody is thanking him are they?” Chloe hissed.

“Not that I can see,” Zak replied.

“He’s a bit big, but I’ll still be able to take him,” Chris said a little too loudly. A cluster of people in front turned to look at Chris, who smiled back.

“It’s a great pleasure to be here in Redwood,” Fergus continued. He towered over Nigel and had to lean forward to speak into the microphone. His wavy blond hair occasionally fell over his eyes, which meant he had to brush it away. “I’m so excited for what we can do for this town. We at New Start Homes are passionate about community, and the fact that so many people are here tonight is testament to the strength of community in Redwood. So go on, give yourselves a round of applause.”

Nobody clapped.

Nobody except Nigel, who smacked his hands together five times before realising he was once again on his own. Again, Fergus didn’t let that put him off his stride. Already, Zak could tell that Fergus was the kind of man who believed that any reaction was confirmation of his greatness.

“Thank you, thank you,” he summarised. “As I’m sure you’re aware. We’re hoping to build 85 homes on this location. There’s no doubt we can meet the asking price and Nigel is very positive about the future we can build. The homes will be luxurious, totally modern and ideally situated next to the train station for commuters.”

“So they can commute straight out of this town!” Chris hissed.

“They’ll attract the type of rich young professionals this town needs. To do that, we’ll need to make a couple of changes. The people we’re going to attract won’t want to see a rubbish tip. But that should be easily done.” Fergus flashed a smile. “Why Redwood? I hear you ask. Redwood is the new LA. The hot new location. Living in cities is so 2010 but the countryside is too much of a change for these people. It scares them. Too much wildlife, not enough people. So Redwood is the perfect place in between. We’re really going to put this town on the map!”

Once again, nobody applauded. Fergus waved his thanks and allowed Nigel to take over on the microphone.

“Any questions?” Nigel asked. Suddenly the room sprung into life. Hands shot up everywhere as a low murmur built up amongst the audience. Nigel pointed at Mr Jones and the room immediately quietened. If there was one person respected by all in that room it was Mr Jones.

“Thank you, gentlemen. I’m sure I speak for many here when I ask what this will do for the future of Redwood Rovers Football Club. As you know, there are no other spaces in the town for a football club as big as ours. The park on Upper Street is too small for the football pitches we need. There’s the abandoned community stadium on the outskirts of town but that’d need a lot of money to bring it back to life and even more for its upkeep. Money is tight and we just don’t have the budget to relocate. If we lose the Rec, we’ll lose everything.”

“I’ll field that one,” Fergus announced. “Now, there’s going to be some changes to the community, of course. I’ve already covered that one with Nigel. As a goodwill gesture, New Start Homes will build a golf course to be used by those from Redwood who buy memberships. That way sport will still go on in Redwood.”

“But we play football, not golf!” Zak screamed. He couldn’t help himself. This was outrageous. Ridiculous! Unbelievable. He was far from the only one. All around him, people were waving their arms and shouting.

“Calm, calm!” Nigel pleaded in vain. Fergus merely leant back in his chair with a satisfied smile. Mr Jones took measure of those around him and then spoke again.

“With the greatest of respects, Fergus, golf is not widely played in Redwood. Football is. Golf is expensive. Many around here cannot afford to pay membership fees and buy expensive equipment. But anyone can play football. All it takes is a ball.”

“That will change,” Fergus replied confidently, brushing his hair from his eyes. “Mark my words. Investment always brings riches. Especially when New Start Homes are involved. And after all, football attracts the wrong kind of people. Golf is far more suitable for that. But I’m sure there are plenty of good football clubs over in High Grove if you’re desperate.”

“But we don’t want riches!” Zak couldn’t help himself. “What’s the point of money if we can’t do what we love?”

“Not you again,” Fergus dismissed Zak’s outcry, which only angered him further. Who did this Fergus think he was coming to their town and telling them what they wanted. “Yes, you.” Fergus pointed to Chloe. “What would you like to know, little girl?”

“I’m far from little,” Chloe responded coolly, as if her words were made of ice while all around her burned. She’d always known how to stand up for herself. This, though, was going to prove a challenge. “It’s little girls like me who put bullies like you in their place.” Fergus scoffed at her remark, but Zak could tell he was regretting selecting Chloe for a question. “How much is the deal?”

“That’s classified information!” Nigel objected.

“Don’t worry, Nige,” Fergus intervened. “Little girl, it’s more money than you could ever dream of. That money is going to transform this town.”

“How much?” Chloe must have ice in her veins as well as in her words, Zak thought.

“A lot.”

“That’s not a number.”

“One million pounds.”

The low murmur of the crowd turned to uproar. “But it’s worth far more than that!” a man screamed. “Outrageous!” came another cry. Chloe remained standing, her eyes fixed on Fergus.

“But the deal hasn’t yet gone through?”

Fergus flashed his most charming smile, which Zak thought gave him the impression of a gargoyle. “It’s only a matter of time.”

“Then it isn’t final.”

“There’s no stopping it.”

“We’ll see about that,” Zak countered. He stared into Fergus’s eyes, really stared, with anger and passion and every other emotion that was running through his upright body. Fergus looked back, and slightly, just slightly, Zak noticed that his charming smile was no longer charming.

It was much more malicious.

“How can we raise a million quid then?” Chloe asked.

The rest of the meeting had passed by in a cloud of bitterness and anger. Just one person in the room seemed happy with the deal: Fergus. Even Nigel, the meek man from the council, backed further and further behind his desk in the hope he could either merge in with the walls or escape the questions from the people of his own town.

While some in the room accepted the decision with disappointment, others refused. Chloe was just one of them. She was going to fight back. So was Zak. So were Chris, Josh and Marcus, who had vowed to beat Fergus before bidding them goodbye and heading on their separate ways home.

“Come on,” Chloe continued, her footsteps quickening along the rising pavement as she and Zak walked back from the meeting. “Rack your brains. If you’ve got any up there.”

Zak felt too depressed to joke back. Being a social media star had made him realise just how important Redwood Rovers was to him. And now it was going to be snatched away.

“How can we raise money full stop?” Chloe continued, a little out of breath from the effort of walking up the sharp incline of Upper Street in the darkness. “A bake sale?”

“How many cakes are you planning on selling?!”

“Good point. We could raise hundreds of pounds but certainly not hundreds of thousands of pounds. Charity run?”

“There are barely 15,000 people living in Redwood. If every single person ran to raise money then who would sponsor them? We can’t all sponsor each other because we’d all run out of money.”

“Okay, okay, I’m just thinking!” Chloe never liked it when she didn’t have the right answer. “It’s called brainstorming. And the main thing about brainstorming is you do it together. I’m getting nothing from you.”

“I suppose.”

Zak limply turned over the leaflet in his hand. Fergus had left a huge pile of them at the exit for all in the audience to take and read.

REDWOOD: MEET NEW START HOMES the headline announced, showing an artist’s drawing of what the homes would look like. In Zak’s opinion they were eyesores. Great vast modern houses that weren’t at all in keeping with the character of the town. In Redwood those houses would look stranger than a UFO and even more out of place. 3 BED HOMES START FROM £450,000 the caption stated. Zak didn’t know much about house prices, but from those who had been around him he knew it was ridiculous. How could the houses benefit locals when locals could never afford to live in them?

“Maybe we should just let Chris fight Fergus,” Zak suggested. At least that way they’d be entertained.

“It does have its advantages.”

“Though we could start one of those pages on the internet which everyone can donate to? If everyone in the town put in around £60 we could get enough,” Zak suggested.

“We’ll never get everyone to do that and what about babies? I don’t know many of them who have £60. And how are you going to get Josh to part with money? That guy has never opened his wallet in his life! But you’re on the right lines. We’d have to do something to make people donate, though.”

“We could just tell them about what’s happened. They wouldn’t believe it.”

“They would. Mum said this happens all the time. It’s a wonder it’s taken so long to happen in Redwood.”

“That sucks.”

“Tell me about it . . . hey! What about your social media? How have we forgotten about that?!”

“What about it?” Zak shot back. The memories were still fresh in his mind. The horrible memories. He didn’t want to go back to that life. He’d got carried away, living too much in the virtual world with its likes and followers and forgetting the real world with his friends and hobbies.

“You’ve still got your accounts, right?”

“Yeah . . . but I don’t use them.”

“But they’re still there.”

“I suppose.”

“And you’ve still got all of your followers.”

“I haven’t checked.”

Zak could hear the reluctance in his own voice. “People will have unfollowed me.”

“But you’re still an influencer. You told me yourself. Influencers influence people. Why don’t you influence them for good, rather than to just sell products for businesses?”

“I don’t know if I could still influence anyone.”

“But you have influenced people in the past. Lots of them. You proved me wrong. I thought you were wasting your time but you ended up with millions of people watching your videos.”

“That was the past.”

“And this is the future. Your future. Our future. If you think it’s all a load of rubbish and you’re not really an influencer then we’ll just have to sell cakes. You can bake them. Then when they sell off the Rec and we have nowhere to play football at least you can bake cakes instead.”

Silence descended on the pair of them. Chloe walked with a little more determination, letting her words sink in. And as they sunk in, Zak began to think . . . Maybe it wasn’t the worst idea. Chloe was right that people were using social media for good causes. He’d seen Peakz share a video highlighting the dangers of climate change. Peakz was a famous rap artist that everyone in his year at school liked. Chris had even joined Peakz on a march against climate change after that video. If Peakz could raise awareness and prompt action, perhaps Zak could do the same. He didn’t like the thought of returning to social media, but he really didn’t like the thought of no longer being able to play football at the Rec. Or baking all of those cakes.

They’d arrived at Glenn Close by now, the private cul-de-sac where Chloe lived in comfort. Artificial light pooled over them, casting them both in a dull orange.

“I know it didn’t work out as you wanted last time,” Chloe said. “But that shouldn’t stop you this time. Think of it as a setback. You learn from every setback and come back stronger, willing to do better. If we stopped every time something went wrong we’d never do anything. Prove to yourself you can do it.”

“Mmm.” Memories and emotions raced through Zak’s mind. He could do it. Could he? Despite the mild temperature, he could feel the hairs on his arms standing on end.

“Anyway, this is me.” Chloe held out her fist for Zak to bump. “Think about what I said. You can be the person to spark a change. You can do what’s right.”

The name suggested riches, but names can be misleading. Just a few minutes’ walk from Chloe’s house lay King’s Lane, the road where Zak lived with his dad. The terraced houses were bunched together as if fighting for the small amount of space available. They had been built more than a century ago and many were in great need of a facelift. It was far from the peace and solitude of Glenn Close with its perfectly symmetrical trees and manicured lawns and birdsong. Instead, King’s Lane was all bangs and crashes, racing traffic on the busy road and pollution curling up into the clouds. But Zak didn’t mind that. Over the years, familiarity had become fondness.

They could move if they wanted to. Zak’s dad had saved up money that Zak earned as a social media star. Some of that had been used on the house itself. Urgent repairs had been made. Long out-of-date bills were paid. New furniture purchased. The house was still the same size, but to both of them it felt more homely.

Inside, his dad was lying on the sofa, relaxing after a long day no doubt. These days he had a regular job which gave him regular income. A local marketing firm had offered him a job in sales which he’d snapped up. Pride was something he talked about a lot now. He was proud to go out to work every day and contribute. He was proud of his roots, and those roots meant King’s Lane.

“All right, Dad.”