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  Miss Boot glared at her. “Angela, what are you doing?” she said.

  “I’m here for the trials, Miss,” said Angela. “Sorry, I don’t have any boots so I’m wearing my trainers.”

  Miss Boot folded her arms. “You do realize this is a trial for the football team?” she said.

  Angela nodded.

  “I see,” said Miss Boot. “Well, we’ve never had any girls before. Strictly speaking it’s a boys’ team.”

  Angela hung her head. Surely Miss Boot wasn’t going to send her back to the changing room?

  “Let her play, Miss. We don’t care!” said Bertie.

  “Yeah, it’ll be funny,” said Darren. “I can’t wait to see her head the ball.”

  Miss Boot sighed and looked at her watch.

  “Very well, you can play, Angela,” she said. “I suppose there’s always a first time. But don’t expect any special treatment just because you’re a girl.”

  Angela nodded. She knew Miss Boot would see sense eventually. Now to teach these snooty-nosed show-off boys a lesson. She would run rings round them. They wouldn’t be laughing when she left them flat on their faces in the mud!

  PEEP! Miss Boot blew her whistle and the game kicked off. She’d told Angela to play on the left wing. Angela wasn’t exactly sure where that was but the ball always seemed to be miles away. The two teams chased it, swarming up and down the pitch like bees.

  THUD!

  “PASS! Pass to me!” cried Angela.

  But the boys ignored her. They passed to their friends or else dribbled in circles until they lost the ball.

  Angela soon discovered why everyone else was wearing boots. Every time she tried to run, she lost her footing and slipped over in the mud. It was hopeless. After twenty minutes she had barely touched the ball once. Then came her chance. The ball was booted forward high in the air and came down just ahead of her. Angela dribbled it into the penalty area.

  Suddenly she found herself with only Bertie between her and the goal. All she had to do was steady herself, take aim and score an amazing goal. The boys wouldn’t be able to believe it. Miss Boot would say, “Well done, Angela, I’m making you captain of the school team!” The goal net yawned wide. She couldn’t miss. Angela drew back her leg…

  THWACK!

  Something came out of nowhere and flattened her in the mud. Angela looked up to see the ball being hoofed upfield by a large boy with red hair.

  She picked herself up, wiping mud from her face. It wasn’t fair – surely that was cheating? She looked at Miss Boot, who shook her head.

  “Well Angela?” she said. “Do you still want to play football?”

  The next morning, Angela sat down beside Maisie and Laura. Her legs were aching and she had a bruise on her knee. Her mum hadn’t been pleased about her muddy PE kit. Angela had to sit on a sheet of newspaper all the way home in the car.

  “Well? How did it go?” Laura asked. “Did you get picked?”

  Angela shook her head. “Boys!” she sighed. “Who wants to be in their smelly old team anyway?”

  “Angela, could you come here, please?” called Miss Darling.

  Uh oh – what now? Angela trailed out to the front.

  “What’s this I hear about you playing football?” asked Miss Darling.

  Angela shrugged. “It’s okay, Miss, it won’t happen again,” she said. “I’m rubbish anyway.”

  Miss Darling frowned. “Have you played much football?” she asked.

  “Not until yesterday,” said Angela.

  “So you’ve never actually had any practice?”

  “Not really,” said Angela. “I haven’t got anyone to practise with.”

  Miss Darling nodded. “Did you know I used to play football?” she said.

  “You, Miss?” Angela stared in surprise.

  “Yes, I played for Pudsley Jets. We were pretty good too,” said Miss Darling.

  Angela’s mouth hung open. She couldn’t imagine Miss Darling playing football. She didn’t look like a footballer – she wore shiny earrings – but maybe she took them off before a match.

  “The thing is, you have to practise,” Miss Darling went on. “It’s like playing the piano. You can’t just pick it up and expect to be brilliant.”

  Angela sighed. “It’s not just that,” she said. “I’m the only girl and the boys don’t pass to me. But none of my friends want to play.”

  Miss Darling sat back and looked thoughtful. “Well, we’ll see about that,” she said.

  At the next PE lesson Miss Darling said they were going to try something new. The boys would be playing rounders while the girls were going to play football. There were a lot of moans and groans from the class.

  Tiffany blamed Angela.

  “It’s all your fault,” she grumbled. “Why can’t we do ballet in the hall?”

  “Football’s stupid,” sighed Maisie.

  “I hope I’m not playing against the Payne twins,” said Laura nervously.

  But soon the girls were passing the ball in pairs. They dribbled in and out of plastic cones. They learned how to shoot, aiming for the corners of the net.

  At last Miss Darling announced they would finish with a penalty shootout competition. Everyone would take a penalty and only those who scored would stay in the competition, until finally they had a winner. Laura went in goal and saved the first three penalties. Tiffany went next and toe-poked the ball so feebly it barely reached the goal. The twins, Myleen and Eileen, scored easily, as did Yasmin and Angela.

  After four rounds only two players were left in: Myleen and Angela.

  “Watch this,” Myleen said to her twin sister, as she placed the ball. She stepped up and blasted it past Laura, but her face fell as it flew over the cross-bar.

  Angela was next. She took a deep breath as she stepped back.

  Right, she thought. I’m rubbish at football, am I?

  She ran up and thumped the ball with all her might.

  It zoomed past Laura and into the roof of the net.

  “GOAL!” yelled Angela, jumping in the air. “YAAAHOOOO! I did it! I scored! I won!”

  “Well done, everyone,” said Miss Darling. “After school next Friday I’ll be running the first training session for Pudsley Girls’ Football Team. Who’s coming?”

  A girls’ football team? Angela’s hand shot up. She looked around. The Payne twins raised their hands. Yasmin joined them and so did Maisie, Laura and half a dozen others.

  “Brilliant!” cried Angela. They’d be Pudsley Girls United – and this was just the start! Wait till they took on the boys’ team and beat them!

  It was nine o’clock on Monday morning. Angela sat in the hall next to Laura and Maisie. They were waiting for assembly to start.

  “Good morning, children,” said Miss Skinner.

  “GOOD MOR-NING, MISS SKIN-NER!” chanted the children.

  Miss Skinner’s gaze swept over the rows of faces like a cold wind.

  “Jemma Bumford, stop fidgeting. Jimmy Wallop, turn round. Bertie, wipe your nose … not on Darren!”

  Angela sat up straight and gazed at Miss Skinner. Her mouth fell open. There was something different about the Head Teacher today. Her hair! She always wore her hair in a bun that looked like a brown ring doughnut. But today her hair hung loose in frizzy curls. RED curls! Angela stared. How could it have grown longer and curlier? And changed colour? It was impossible. Unless… Angela’s eyes almost popped out of her head. MISS SKINNER WAS WEARING A WIG!

  Angela nudged Laura. “Look what she’s wearing!” she whispered.

  Laura looked. “Sandals,” she said.

  “No, on her head!” hissed Angela.

  Laura looked again. Miss Skinner wasn’t wearing anything on her head except…

  “OH!” gasped Laura. Miss Skinner’s hair had had some sort of makeover.

  “See?” hissed Angela. “It’s a—”

  “ANGELA NICELY!” Miss Skinner’s voice made Angela jump. “Is there something you want to shar
e with us?”

  Angela gulped. “No, Miss,” she mumbled.

  “Speak up,” said Miss Skinner. “It’s obviously important.”

  Angela shook her head, her cheeks burning. She could feel everyone staring at her. Luckily, Miss Skinner went back to what she was saying.

  After assembly Angela and her friends headed back to class.

  “How come it’s always me that gets in trouble?” grumbled Angela.

  “You were talking,” said Laura.

  “So were you,” argued Angela.

  “Anyway, what were you whispering about?” asked Maisie.

  Angela stopped dead. “You mean you didn’t notice?” she said.

  Maisie looked at her blankly.

  “Miss Skinner IS WEARING A WIG,” said Angela, spelling it out.

  Maisie snorted. “She’s not!”

  “SHE IS! It’s so obvious!”

  Maisie looked at her. “Angela! You are such a fibber!”

  “It’s a wig!” insisted Angela.

  “It isn’t!”

  “Is!” said Angela, throwing up her hands in despair. “Look,” she said, “before her hair was short and brown, and she had it in a bun. Now it’s long, curly and RED! It has to be a wig.”

  Maisie rolled her eyes. “Angela, you are raving barmy bonkers!”

  Angela sighed. Maisie was her second best friend, but she could be really annoying sometimes.

  “It definitely is,” said Angela.

  Maisie gave her a look. “Okay,” she said. “Prove it.”

  “Right, I will!” said Angela.

  Laura frowned. “How? How can you prove it?”

  Angela hadn’t thought about that. She couldn’t exactly go up to Miss Skinner and say, “Please, Miss, can you show us your wig?” Teachers went mad when you said things like that. Even if you were just helpfully pointing out a spot on their nose. No, she would have to think of a plan. Maisie always thought she knew best, but this time Angela would prove her wrong.

  Read Angela Nicely

  to find out what

  happens next.

  Copyright

  STRIPES PUBLISHING

  An imprint of Little Tiger Press

  1 The Coda Centre, 189 Munster Road,

  London SW6 6AW

  First published as an ebook by Stripes Publishing in 2014.

  Text copyright © Alan MacDonald, 2014

  Illustrations copyright © David Roberts, 2014

  eISBN: 978–1–84715–618–1

  The right of Alan MacDonald and David Roberts to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work respectively has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved.

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any forms, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  www.littletiger.co.uk