Sidelines, page 11
‘I’m going to audition for the school play this year,’ Georgia says. ‘It’s Shrek the Musical, and I’m trying out for Fiona.’
Audrey pauses. ‘Which nights are rehearsals on?’
Georgia lists the dates and, for once, it’s not the same nights as football. A thrill runs through Audrey. Maybe she could try out. She likes drama, and she’s always wanted to be in the school play. The drama teacher is really nice, and several times when they’ve had to act out a role in class, Audrey’s surprised herself and found it easy to be someone else rather than herself. But she mustn’t get her hopes up—the lead will probably go to Georgia or one of the girls in the choir. Audrey would like to be in the choir, except it’s on the same night as training. That’s what happens every year. There are a million things she’d like to do, but her father says you have to choose what you’re best at.
‘Will any of you try out?’ Georgia asks. ‘You probably wouldn’t get a lead role, but you might make the chorus.’
‘I’d love to,’ Darcie says.
‘Me too,’ says Pip. ‘What about you, Audrey? I suppose you’ve got soccer.’
‘Probably,’ Audrey says, deliberately vague.
‘That’s a shame,’ Georgia says with a smug smile. ‘Oh well. Maybe another year. Anyway, I need to buy make-up this afternoon. Does anyone want to come to the mall with me?’
‘I can come,’ says Pip. ‘And I’ve got money for ice cream.’
‘Me too,’ Darcie says. ‘Can you come, Audrey?’ She slings an arm around Audrey’s waist.
Audrey leans into that affectionate hug with a sinking feeling in her stomach. ‘I can’t. I’ve got training.’
‘You’ve always got training,’ Darcie groans.
‘I can come tomorrow,’ Audrey says, hopeful. ‘Or Friday.’
‘Tomorrow doesn’t work for me,’ says Georgia. ‘And Friday is too far away. It has to be tonight.’
Audrey sits there, glum, while the other girls chatter about the shops they want to visit: Glassons, City Beach, Sportsgirl, Mecca Maxima. They’ll get bubble-tea first, Georgia decides—peach green tea with double lychee pearls. Then they’ll look at clothes and make-up.
Audrey listens with her face frozen into a smile. She feels like a discarded Macca’s wrapper, blowing up and down in the gutter on the side of the road.
She excuses herself on the pretext of going to the toilet. On the way, she sees the poster for the play on the noticeboard and stops to look. Georgia has already written her name at the top of the audition list. She thinks she’s going to be Fiona, of course. But she’s forgotten she has to audition like everyone else. Anyone can try out for that role. Including Audrey.
With a shot of excitement, she takes the pencil from her pocket and scratches her name at the bottom of the list.
She’s in her last class for the day when the text comes through from her father. Braedon has been suspended for six weeks. It’s not enough, he says, but at least he’s being punished.
Audrey doesn’t want to think about Braedon because, when she does, she can still feel his dirty hands groping her.
She presses a fingertip into a bruise on her knee, winces at the pain, sends a text back to her dad. Good.
But it’s not that good. With sixteen teams in the league, they won’t be playing the Bears for ages anyway. She can only hope Braedon learns a lesson before they meet again.
When her mother drops them to training that afternoon, Audrey dumps her bag on the grass and sits down to put her boots on. It’s lucky they beat the Bears the other day, despite all the crap with Braedon. They ended up winning 2–1, and that’s good, because it means that tonight won’t be another punishment session.
Whenever they lose, Dominik goes ballistic at training and says it’s the team’s fault for not listening to him. You can always tell when it’s going to be bad from the way he looks at everyone as they arrive, standing there with his chin jutting, thick arms folded, dark eyes glittering. You can do it at training, he bawls, so why can’t you do it at the game? It’s always worse when there are no parents around—he’s never as nasty when there are spectators. Last punishment session, he made them do so many shuttle-runs, burpees, push-ups and sit-ups, it nearly killed them, especially since it was only two days after they’d last played. One of the players twisted an ankle and had to miss the next game. And another pulled a hamstring and had to miss two.
Today, as she pulls her boots on, she catches Katerina and Viktor shooting sly glances at her. She pretends not to notice, but the horrible knot in her stomach tightens. It’s like this every training. All day at school, she feels weak and tired, and it gets worse after lunchtime. On the way to training, she plays Taylor Swift to drown out the static in her head. But sometimes it’s hard to push everything under—her thoughts come up like popcorn. She reminds herself about the words she wrote in her diary after school: You are fast. You have good skills. You can be a champion.
As she finishes her double bows, she hears a noisy car burble along the road and sees a rusty yellow four-wheel-drive pull up in the car park. It’s the sort of car her mother would call a bomb—you don’t see many cars like that around here. Two strangers get out: a skinny, curly-haired boy in a Barcelona jersey, and a thickset, muscly man in a hoodie and jeans. They lean against the railing and survey the field.
Audrey is close enough to see the tattoos on the man’s arms, a red slash on his forehead, a thick white line on one cheek. His sharp eyes make her uncomfortable, so she jumps up, hurries to the ball-bag, grabs a ball, and starts juggling near the coaches. Tap, tap, tap, goes the ball off her boot, left foot, then right. Just her and the ball. The rhythm blocks everything out.
‘Who’s that?’ she hears Kyle say.
‘Dunno,’ says Dominik. ‘I’d better go check it out.’
She stops juggling and watches as he tucks his jersey into his tracksuit pants and strides over to the man and the boy, straightening his shoulders and pushing his belly out. ‘I’m the coach here,’ he says. ‘Can I help you?’
The man offers a hand to shake and flashes a mouthful of white teeth. ‘G’day, mate. I’m Lang. And this here’s my boy, Griffin.’
The boy smiles. He’s tall and good-looking with a faint frown between his eyebrows, a mop of floppy hair, a freckly nose and pimply chin. There’s something about him that makes Audrey’s tummy flip.
There’s something about the father too—her mum would say he looks like a crim.
Dominik hesitates then takes the man’s hand.
‘We’ve just moved up from Melbourne,’ the man—Lang—says. ‘Griff’s keen to play. I rang the club and they said to bring him along.’
A stone sinks in Audrey’s stomach. Why now, when she’s just got into the team?
Dominik rubs his nose and inspects Griffin. ‘You’ve played before?’
‘Yeah. A bit.’ The boy’s voice rings across the field, sliding up and down a broken scale.
‘Premier League?’
Lang’s mouth twists. ‘Mate, we wouldn’t be here if he was no good.’
‘All right,’ Dominik says. ‘We’ll see how it goes. But no promises. Come with me, Griffin.’
The boy ducks under the railing and lopes across the field beside Dominik. His gait is long and loose and he’s got a dopey grin on his face. Isn’t he nervous, trying out with a new team? Audrey knows she would be. Her throat tightens. She glances at Viktor as Dominik calls everyone in, wondering what he’s going to think about all this. Viktor lifts his chin and swaggers over.
They all stand in a raggedy circle while Dominik explains that Griffin will be training with them today. Viktor’s eyes are hard little rocks, and everyone else is checking out Griffin too. Nobody wants him here, including Audrey. But she also feels bad for him, because she knows how it makes your skin crawl and your stomach shrink when people stare at you like that. Griffin doesn’t seem to care, though. He smiles at everyone like a goofy puppy.
Dominik sends them for a jog around the oval, and Viktor takes off fast, setting the pace like he always does, back stiff and straight, man bun bobbing. Alex and Noah are close behind. Usually Audrey is up the front too, but today she hangs back and tries to lose herself in the group where no one can see her. Griffin bounds along, not really part of the group, but not alone either. When they pull up, puffing, in front of Dominik, he stays to the side. She accidentally locks eyes with him and his smile makes her face feel all hot. She looks away.
Kyle lays out cones and Dominik tells everyone to pair up for a drill.
Griffin stands alone, smiling and eyeing everyone hopefully. When there’s no one left, Noah goes over to him and Griffin’s face splits into a grin. Everyone starts passing to each other. Audrey knows she should be focusing on what she’s doing but she wants to watch Griffin. And she’s not the only one: everyone is watching him. Balls go everywhere.
‘Minotaurs!’ Dominik roars. ‘What the hell’s going on? Haven’t you learned anything this year?’
Good question, Audrey thinks. Sometimes she wonders why they even bother with training because they do the same things over and over. Boring stuff, always the drills and small-sided games. She wishes they could practise fun things too, like taking penalties and corners, or shooting goals.
Audrey’s partner misfires and she has to chase the ball past Katerina.
‘Can’t you pass properly?’ Katerina says loudly. ‘You’re so useless. I don’t know why they let you in the team.’
‘It wasn’t me who kicked it,’ Audrey retorts. She’d like to slam the ball at Katerina’s fat head, but Dominik is watching, so she keeps her mouth shut and dribbles back to continue the drill.
Dominik struts around, banging on about accuracy and first touch. He’s pretending to watch everyone, but Audrey can tell he’s actually only watching Griffin. He’s frowning and his bottom lip is sticking out, which is how she knows that he’s concentrating.
Griffin is definitely worth watching. There’s something about the way he moves: floaty and springy as if he doesn’t need to make any effort, as if the ground is bouncy under his feet. It’s as though he’s got a sixth sense. When Noah knocks a crap pass to him, he seems to know exactly where the ball will go and how it’ll get there.
As Audrey dribbles past the coaches, she hears Dominik mutter to Kyle. ‘Fuckin’ hell! Look what we’ve got here! A natural.’
Viktor has a sour look on his face like he always does when things aren’t going his way. He was the best in the team until today, but now everyone can see that Griffin is way better. If Griffin gets into the team, though, someone will have to be dropped, because Dominik only wants sixteen players. Audrey is terrified it will be her. She’s so flustered, she misses the ball. What will she do if she’s dropped? She can’t go back to the girls’ team.
Over at the railing, her mother frowns, probably wondering why she’s playing so badly. Audrey flings her a nervous smile. There’ll be a lecture tonight if she doesn’t get her act together. Dominik could be watching too. Maybe deciding who to leave on the bench this weekend. Audrey will die if it’s her. Her parents will be so disappointed.
‘Come on, Audrey!’ Katerina snarls as she jogs past. ‘Watch your passes.’ Katerina’s touch is hardly perfect so Audrey ignores her. But it’s hard to get things right because her stomach is wobbly and her legs have gone stiff.
They start a small-sided game. Alex passes to her, but she’s so busy worrying, she nearly trips over the ball. Everyone looks at her. They’re probably thinking how bad she is, that she doesn’t belong on this team, that she’s not good enough, that Griffin should be in instead of her. It’s written all over their faces.
‘Come on, Audrey,’ Viktor snaps. ‘Watch your touch.’ He whispers something to Katerina and they laugh.
Audrey’s toes curl in her boots. She digs her studs into the ground and twists to form a divot. If only she could make a hole big enough to fall into so she could disappear, away from all those judgemental eyes.
When play resumes, she runs along the line, sprinting like she wants the ball but can’t get there fast enough. Her dad would say she should be injecting herself into the game more, but she doesn’t want to make mistakes and look an even bigger fool. And it’s hard to focus because she can’t stop looking at Griffin. He’s so good it’s hard not to stare. If only she could play like him.
Dominik’s eyes are gleaming as if he’s found gold. He’s probably thinking of all the wins they’ll have with Griffin in the team. But he’s forgetting one thing: Griffin will be useless if nobody passes to him, and that’s already happening. He’s in a good position all the time and calling for the ball, but Viktor and his friends are totally ignoring him because they don’t want him there and will only pass to each other. It’s like that every week, only this afternoon, with Griffin, it’s worse.
But Griffin’s so good he can steal the ball off you. You think he’s just cruising, then he’s on top of you and he’s got the ball and he’s running away with it, zigzagging through the field. No one can catch him. Not Viktor. Not Noah. Not even Alex. But he’s not a ball-hog, even though he could be if he wanted to. And he doesn’t show off. He just does what he has to do and then makes perfect passes. Audrey wants to hate him, but she can’t. She’s never seen anyone so good in real life.
During drinks break, while Dominik rants on about tackling and position and structure, Audrey hunches at the edge of the team and sucks on her water bottle. She should be listening but it’s hard not to switch off. She’s heard it all before, and it’s far more interesting to watch Viktor whispering insults about Griffin, Katerina curling her lip, Viktor laughing and giving Griffin the finger. All behind Dominik’s back. Their bullshit is pointless, though, because Griffin doesn’t notice, or pretends not to. Audrey wishes she could do the same when they talk shit to her.
All the while, Griffin’s dad leans up against the railing by himself. He looks like a bikie with all those tatts. And how did he get those scars on his face? In a knife fight? Jumping through a window to escape the police? Jail? None of the other parents talk to him. They look at him, though, huddling together and shooting secret glances at him. Every time Audrey’s mother looks at Lang, her back straightens and her mouth flattens. She always says people judge you by the way you speak and your appearance. Audrey reckons Griffin’s dad looks like he says fuck a lot and youse instead of you. Her mother will be thinking he’s a lower life form—that’s the term she uses for crims: people who look like they’d be known to police. She says people like that should require a licence to have children. But Griffin doesn’t look like the son of a criminal. He looks friendly.
Dominik makes everyone switch bibs and they keep playing. He yells at anyone who won’t pass, pretending he’s talking to everyone, but you can tell he’s mad at Viktor and his mates for not passing to Griffin.
Audrey tries hard but her feet won’t speak to her body. When Alex fires a ball at her, she stuffs it and the ball bobbles away.
‘Audrey!’ Dominik shouts. ‘Do better!’
Her stomach clenches. Why does he always pick on her? She always tries her best, and that’s the most anyone can be expected to do. She’d like to tell him so, but it’s bad to backchat the coach so she stays quiet, as usual. He must realise what she’s thinking, though, because after that he’s got it in for her. He shouts at her for not being in the right place, for not calling, for not keeping her eye on the ball. And the harder she tries, the worse it gets—everything she does is a mistake.
To stay out of trouble, she slides wide, avoiding the ball. Katerina kicks at her shins and makes a face at her as she runs past. ‘Stop ball-watching.’
Griffin is on the same team. He passes to Viktor then runs down the line. ‘Hey,’ he calls to Viktor. ‘Give it here and I’ll pass back.’
Viktor turns away and passes to Katerina instead, but it’s a crap pass. Alex swoops in and steals the ball and Viktor races after him, shoves him in the back. Down goes Alex, shouting about his knee. ‘Viktor!’ Dominik roars. ‘Get over here.’
While Alex stays on the ground, rubbing his knee, Viktor slouches over to Dominik and stands in front of him, staring at the ground. He usually gets away with being a dickhead, but not today. Audrey is happy to see him in trouble for once, and she’s even happier when he has to stand out of play beside the coaches.
But she’s worried about Alex.
He hobbles over to Dominik, and then Mum comes over too, and they stand in a circle, talking about the knee. In the end, Dominik tells him to sit out and rest up and see a physio tomorrow. Audrey gives Alex a nod, then they get back to training.
At first, she’s tentative; after seeing Alex get hurt she doesn’t want to risk an injury. But everything is different without Viktor and soon the play opens up and people start passing. They laugh and enjoy themselves, even Katerina. For Audrey, it’s as if the weight has dropped off her feet. She feels like she’s dancing on air, flying after the ball, leaping to control it, taking delicate touches and making good passes. Surely Dominik won’t drop her when she’s playing like this. With Alex out, he needs an extra player. And now he can see how good she is.
One of Viktor’s mates sends the ball to her, and when she passes back, he smiles: a real smile that shines in his eyes, so different from when he’s copying Viktor. Audrey feels like a star. She knows where to be and what to do. There’s music to it. And flow. If only it was like this all the time. This is why she likes football.
Dominik is all smiles too. He and Kyle high-five each other. ‘This is great,’ he calls to the team. ‘You’re using your brains for once. More of that, please.’
Everyone gets creative and starts taking risks, trying new things.
Audrey stays wide, waiting for the ball, but the play is on the other side.
Then a voice calls, ‘Hey, Audrey.’ And there’s Griffin. He boots the ball in an arc and it lands at her feet. ‘Pass back,’ he commands.
She’s so surprised, she misses and the ball skips over the line. Her cheeks burn, but when she glances at him, he nods.
