Missy

By Mark Watson

Imagine being the only girl in a school full of boys...

Missy loves football. As she and her friends get ready to start their final year of primary school, the class are excited to finally get to play 11-a-side football matches against other teams. But when a new committee in charge of school football in Scotla

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aberlochaber Publishing Ltd
• Release date: Jun 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9781915592514

Book preview

Mark Watson

Missy

Copyright © 2023 Mark Watson.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

First printing, 2023.

Published by Abershiel Publishing,

An imprint of Aberlochaber Publishing Ltd.

Aberdeen, Scotland

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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

Dedicated to all of the generous coaches, teachers, parents, relatives and guardians, who give up countless hours every week to bring football to children across the entire world.

Chapter 1

The large village of Drummoch is situated south of Glasgow in the South Ayrshire area. It was originally meant to be named ‘Drumore’ after a small loch near Maybole, but somebody misheard the name. Large hills surround Drummoch on all sides, giving the impression that it lies within the crater of a volcano. The village has one main high street, called ‘High Street’, which retains its Victorian cobbled road and exterior façade of Victorian architecture, and various small streets that led off towards the fields and farmland that lay on the precipice.

Although it is a small village, Drummoch has enough amenities to satisfy both the locals and the people from the outer lying villages. Several restaurants with various cuisines wedged themselves into the terraced Victorian high street; a number of independent clothing stores stocked various fashionable brands, saving many shoppers from having to drive to Glasgow to meet their retail therapy needs, and various other shops from florists to hairdressers lined the bustling high street. Down the side streets that led off from the Village focal point were an assortment of workshops and local tradesmen, from joiners to mechanics. As a village, Drummoch had everything it needed. However, there was something particularly odd about Drummoch and that was the local primary school.

Less than a mile north of the village lay the local primary school. The school had been built in early 2019, after a decision from several old councillors who decided to close all of the small local village schools and build a larger school, where the students could all travel to and be part of one school community. The councillors had spared no expense in building the school, with its sleek, modern design that resembled a glass box; the vast playing fields and the resources that were within it. But it was not the way in which the modern architecture of the school contrasted with the village’s historical aesthetic that made the school peculiar. It was the classes.

In August of 2022, there were, there were sixty-eight students and four classes at Drummoch Primary School. Primary One and Two; Three and Four, Five and Six were combined into composite classes, while Primary Seven was a single form class. But it wasn’t the composite classes that made this school peculiar. It was the students within the classes. Of the sixty-eight students at Drummoch, there was only one girl.

Mary MacLeod was short with a very delicate frame. She had a bright, happy face and her dark blonde hair was always tied up in a ponytail. Her mother had died when she was very young and she was primarily raised by her father and grandparents. At the age of three, her dad had introduced her to football. From the moment she touched a football, Mary was hooked. Any time that she wasn’t in her school uniform, she wore some form of football-related attire. Football tops and matching shorts, football-themed t-shirts, football pyjamas and a football jacket. Her grandmother had tried to buy her some other clothes, yearning for her to wear something that she believed was more appropriate for ‘girls’. One birthday, she received a bright pink t-shirt with love-heart patterns across it and a beautiful pale blue dress from her grandmother. She accepted them politely, but they lived in the back of her cupboard and only made an appearance in front of her grandmother.

When Mary first attended the school, she was in Primary 3. She had felt quite conscious of the fact that she was the only girl in her class, surrounded by fifteen boys. Initially, the boys didn’t include her in their various games in the playground and on the fields during break times, leading to Mary feeling isolated and alone. They never told her that she couldn’t play or participate in their games, but she was never invited to participate.

When the boys decided to start playing football at breaktimes one Monday lunchtime, Mary finally saw an opportunity to connect with her classmates. The following morning, after Dad had dropped her off at school, Mary changed in the school toilets and appeared at her classroom wearing a full football kit, complete with shin guards and football boots. Her teacher at the time, Mrs Crabbett, was shocked at her lack of uniform and had asked her, "What on earth do you think you’re wearing, Missy?"

The boys all found this hilarious and, from that day forth, Mary was referred to as ‘Missy’. Missy quickly became friends with Rab who enjoyed her rough-and-tumble approach to life while Missy loved the fact that Rab treated her the same as everyone else in the class.

While initially, the boys were gentle with Missy, endeavouring to not use their strength or commit hard tackles, they quickly learned that Missy was, despite her size, very strong. Strong enough that quite often, she pushed, wrestled or tackled the boys twice as hard as they could do to her. As such, the rest of her classmates no longer saw her as any different from themselves. To the rest of the class, Missy was just part of the team.

It was a warm August morning when the students finally returned to school after a long summer break. Drummoch had avoided rain for the last few weeks, creating a communal feeling of happiness through the village culminating in a large community barbeque before the schools returned.

Missy awoke with her legs hanging outside of her bed. She had been dreaming about scoring the winning goal at the World Cup Final and had managed to jolt herself awake with her incredible bicycle kick. She rolled the rest of her body out of bed and danced across her room to get ready for school, reliving the entire World Cup experience in her mind. She dressed quickly and headed downstairs for breakfast.

Dad sat alone at the breakfast table, scrolling through social media on his phone while spooning mouthfuls of cereal into his mouth with his right hand. He looked up from his phone and garbled a greeting through the semi-chewed cereal in his mouth as Missy sat down with him. She poured herself some cereal and emptied the rest of the milk carton on top.

Dad, I had the most amazing dream last night. I was playing for Scotland in the World Cup Final against Haaland, Mbappé and Neymar! Then at the last minute, I scored the winning goal with a bicycle kick and then fell out of my bed and woke up. It was amazing, explained Missy, shovelling more cereal into her mouth and revelling in the fictitious moment.

Her dad laughed and turned his phone over, reaching for his cup of milky tea, I don’t know which part of that dream I find most unbelievable: Haaland, Mbappé and Neymar all playing for the same country; or Scotland in a World Cup Final! He laughed again before sighing deeply, The most believable part of that dream was you doing a bicycle kick – you’re still practising them, aren’t you?

Always. Though Granny MacLeod said she’s worried that I’ll break my neck, she put her spoon down in her empty bowl and got up to clear the table.

She’s probably right, but I doubt that will stop you, smiled Dad as he got up and put his jacket on over his overalls, I have to work late tonight, Missy – I just got a message that somebody’s off ill. I’ll text Granny and tell her you’ll come to her house for dinner after school today as I won’t be in.

Missy nodded and walked over to the front door where her jacket and schoolbag waited for her in a crumpled heap. She put on her jacket and pulled her football-themed schoolbag over her shoulders. She pressed down on the front door handle and opened the door, letting the morning air drift into the house.

Oh, Missy, before you go… Missy turned and faced her dad, who was doing his ritualistic check for his phone, wallet and keys, Mind’ and score a few goals at break time, today.

She smiled at her dad. See you tonight, she said, closing the door behind her.

Chapter 2

Missy liked school. While she might have preferred being outside playing football, she enjoyed the structure and routine that came with going to school. She particularly enjoyed connecting the importance of each subject to her planned career in football. She would need to be good at maths to ensure that she could get the best contract at a football team; she would need to learn another language so that she could integrate easily when she earned a move to a massive football club abroad, and she’d need to be good at English so that she had the vocabulary and understanding to answer questions when she gave all of her press conferences.

Missy joined the line outside the school building just in time to avoid being late that morning. She was often late for school due to excessive dawdling or finding a piece of litter to play football with on the way to school – on this occasion, it was an empty cola can that had been discarded onto the pavement. She trotted in behind the rest of the class, following the standard routine of hanging her jacket up and deciding what she was having for lunch that day on the interactive whiteboard. She sat down at her desk, next to Rab, and whacked him on the shoulder.

Hi Rab, how was your holiday? Was it Spain you were in? Missy asked, rubbing her hand after realising she’d hurt herself hitting him.

That hurt, you eejit! said Rab, checking his shoulder, Yeah, Spain was great. The hotel had a swimming pool and stuff so we spent most of it down there. How were your holidays?

Missy thought back to her holidays – they were fairly boring. Dad had sent her up to Wemyss Bay with Granny and Grandad to the caravan for a week so she could have a holiday of sorts. The caravan was quite boring and she found that there were only so many times she could tolerate sitting inside having cups of tea and playing the same card games with her grandparents. They had twice taken her down to Largs to the arcade where she could play some video games and win some menial treats, but what she longed for more than anything was football – to watch it or play it. Even when she finally returned home to Drummoch, most of her friends were away on holiday somewhere. Truth be told, summer was quite lonely.

Yeah, they were alright. Nothing too much to be honest. I’m just glad to be back at school, to be honest, she said, shrugging her shoulders.

Back at school? Are you daft? Why on earth would you want to be back at school? Rab asked, confused.

If school’s back, then football’s back. Also, we’re Primary Seven now. That means we get to play eleven-a-side matches in the school football tournaments, she replied, looking smug.

Rab shook his head softly and smirked as he hung his coat on the peg with his name on it, "You really are obsessed with football, aren’t you? I swear, half of the boys don’t really care that much about it – compared with you, at