Apparently Anton gave up easier than Jude, though. Nothing more was said about football on Wednesday—the focus seemed to be on Walsh, as Larimer had found out by some sneaky means that Walsh had a crush on some girl called Melanie. Anton didn’t get the joke, but apparently having a crush on Melanie was ten kinds of embarrassing all at once—until three thirty-three, when Anton was collecting his things from his locker, and a presence appeared.
“Hi, Jude.”
“See, you’re getting used to me already, new kid,” Jude said amiably, and banged his back against the locker next to Anton’s. “So.”
“So?”
“Football club. Tomorrow. You in?”
“I said I’d think about it.”
“And you said that yesterday. Twenty-four hours I’ve given you! How much time d’you need?”
Jude’s exaggeration was coupled with hype
