Sidelines, page 13
‘I promise I won’t do it again,’ she says in a small voice. Reaching under the table, she tugs a scab off her knee and inhales sharply at the pain. Luckily her father doesn’t notice, so she sits very still, feeling the warm trickle of blood running down her leg.
When he’s gone, she dabs the blood away with a tissue then fetches a Band-Aid from the bathroom.
Later, Alex comes by her room and leans in. ‘Sorry I told Dad,’ he whispers. ‘I thought it was better for him to find out tonight rather than on Saturday. He’d be even worse then. At least this way he knows what to expect.’
He has a point, but she’s still mad at him.
Audrey sits on the grass with the girls near the fig tree at the edge of the school oval. She loves that tree: the reaching branches and buttressed trunk, the jangle of birds up in the green canopy. Sometimes she comes here alone, when Georgia is being mean and the other girls don’t stand up for her. But today all has been going well … until now, when Audrey mentions she is trying out for Fiona.
‘What for?’ Georgia says with a petulant sniff. ‘You’re not even into drama.’
‘I like drama,’ Audrey says. ‘But I’ve never been able to try out for the play because of football.’
‘Well, I’m really good at it and I don’t think you’ve got a chance. Especially not as Fiona. You don’t even look like Fiona.’
‘Neither do you,’ Audrey says. ‘Fiona is an ogre!’
The other girls giggle and Georgia goes red. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were going to audition?’ she asks.
Audrey shrugs, and Darcie pats Georgia’s arm. ‘Don’t worry, Georgia. Audrey knows you’ll get Fiona, for sure.’
Georgia relaxes, but Audrey is irritated. Why shouldn’t she try out for Fiona? And why do they always have to pander to Georgia?
She decides it’s time to mention Griffin; Georgia’s not the only one with stories to tell. ‘There’s a new boy in my team and he’s really hot,’ she says, unable to keep the smug note from her voice.
Darcie’s eyes brighten.
‘What does he look like?’ Pip asks, goggling.
Audrey can’t help herself—she makes Griffin sound like a movie star, then wonders if she’s over-exaggerating. But no, Griffin really is hot. Warmth climbs her neck and tracks up to her cheeks.
‘You’re blushing,’ Darcie says, grabbing her arm. ‘Do you think he likes you?’
‘I don’t know,’ Audrey stammers. ‘He passes the ball to me, and he talks to me.’
‘That’s nothing,’ Georgia blurts. ‘Has he kissed you?’
Audrey shakes her head.
‘Then how do you know he likes you?’
‘From the way he looks at me,’ Audrey says.
‘Has he held your hand yet?’
Audrey bows her head, shame draining the excitement out of her. She should never have mentioned Griffin.
‘Max fingered me last night,’ Georgia says in a superior tone. And the attention shifts from Audrey, just like that.
‘You’re making it up!’ Pip says.
‘No, I’m not. We went into the storeroom and kissed and then he put his hand down my pants.’
Darcie and Pip gasp, but Audrey remains silent. Georgia is probably lying. And if she’s not, she should keep it to herself instead of boasting. That stuff is private.
‘He touched my clit and it was amazing,’ Georgia says, lifting her eyes to the sky and shuddering with delight.
Darcie shrieks and clamps her hands over her ears. ‘Too much information.’
Audrey agrees. She’s never ever touched her own clit. In fact she’s not even certain exactly where it is. She stands up.
‘Where are you going?’ Georgia asks.
‘To the toilet. Lunch is nearly over.’
She walks away without looking back, and there’s satisfaction in removing herself from Georgia’s fawning audience.
Auditions for Shrek are after school in the music room. Everyone has a specific timeslot, but there’s a crowd of girls waiting among a mountain of schoolbags. Audrey sits with Georgia, their backs pressed to the wall. Georgia is one of the first to go in. When her name is called, she stands up and smiles nervously at Audrey.
‘Break a leg,’ Audrey murmurs—isn’t that what you’re meant to say?
Georgia’s face crumples. ‘I’m really scared.’
‘You’ll be fine.’ Audrey is surprised that confident Georgia is no longer invincible. She watches her friend shuffle into the music room. When the door closes, Audrey discovers she’s not nervous at all. Maybe that’s because, compared to football, the audition seems like nothing.
Ten minutes later Georgia comes out, white-faced and quiet. Audrey jumps up to greet her. ‘How did it go?’
‘I don’t know. I can’t tell. I was terrified.’
‘Well, if you were terrified, I’ll be paralysed,’ Audrey says. ‘I won’t even be able to sing. I’m sure you were great.’ She slings an arm around her friend and Georgia leans against her, shivering. ‘Maybe you should go home,’ Audrey suggests. ‘There’s no point hanging around.’
‘What about you? I should stay.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll be okay.’
Georgia’s eyes well with tears. ‘Sorry I’ve been such a bitch lately. I’ve been so nervous. I really want this role.’
‘I know you do,’ Audrey says. And she really does know.
When the drama teacher calls her in, Audrey’s throat tightens and her pulse gallops. She stands up, wondering if she might faint. The drama teacher sees her and smiles. ‘Come on, Audrey, we’re ready for you.’
In the music room, all the chairs and music stands have been pushed into one corner to make space around the piano. A tiny old woman with silky grey hair is seated at the piano. ‘I want you to meet Mrs Smith,’ the drama teacher says to Audrey. ‘She’s going to be our pianist.’
The older woman looks up and gives Audrey a beautiful smile, and Audrey feels all the tension melt away.
‘You’re trying out for Fiona, aren’t you, Audrey?’ the drama teacher says, handing her a script. ‘We’ll get you to start here.’ She points at a highlighted line.
Audrey swallows. The tight feeling is back in her throat. But the pianist catches her eye and nods slightly, and Audrey feels safe again. She reads the lines in a bold voice, making sure to use plenty of inflection so she doesn’t sound boring. Once she gets going, she’s surprised how easy it is. She pictures Fiona in the Shrek movie—the loose, happy way she moves, the big toothy ogre smile. She tries to mimic that smile and realises, part way through the reading, that it’s far more fun to be an ogre than a princess. And far more fun to be an ogre than her ordinary self!
When she finishes, she peers at the drama teacher. ‘Very good, Audrey. You’re a bit of a dark horse, aren’t you?’
She’s not sure what that means, but it seems the teacher expects her to agree, so she nods.
‘Now, we’d like you to sing some of Fiona’s opening song for us,’ says the teacher. ‘Mrs Smith will accompany you.’
The little pianist smiles at her and plays a few chords on the piano, touching the keys softly and thoughtfully as if waiting for Audrey to steady herself. Audrey watches her fingers tinkle across the piano, like a butterfly picking out the melody. ‘No rush,’ she says quietly to Audrey. ‘Take your time and nod when you’re ready. Don’t forget to breathe.’
Audrey closes her eyes, inhales deeply and tries to relax her shoulders. Then she looks at Mrs Smith and nods. Mrs Smith maintains gentle eye contact and strokes the piano keys with her fingers. Then Audrey is singing. Her voice floats up and around the room.
They let her sing for quite a while, then the teacher holds up a hand. ‘Thank you. That will be enough for now, Audrey. You can go now. Thanks for auditioning.’
Then it’s over. She can’t really tell how it went, except that Mrs Smith is nodding and smiling. And it feels good, it really does. She feels like she nailed it.
The door opens and a crowd of expectant girls looks up at her. She steps over all the bags on the floor, grabs her schoolbag, and heads out to the turning circle where her mother will be waiting.
She feels light and happy, as if gravity has released its hold on her. She’s always wanted to be in the school play, and maybe this time she can. Maybe she’s good at this.
On the last day of term, Audrey invites Darcie to come to the mall with her after school, but Darcie has to go home and pack because she’s flying to the Gold Coast with her family to visit the theme parks. Dreamworld. Movie World. Sea World. Wet ’n’ Wild. Audrey wishes she could go too, except she can’t, because she has a football game every weekend during the holidays.
No one else can come either, so she goes alone, even though she’s not supposed to. She has to change buses twice. Her mother doesn’t like her hanging around at bus stations, but she doesn’t have to wait long, and she keeps an eye out for weirdos. Luckily there are none.
At the mall, she goes straight to Mecca Maxima with its bright lights, large windows, and rows and rows of make-up. It’s packed inside, so she lingers near the door, peering at all the women and girls who look as if they’re straight from a fashion blog. Girls in tight tops and ripped jeans. Bare bellies. Hair all smooth and blonde. Audrey’s mouth goes dry. They all look so much more sophisticated than her. They’re carrying black plastic baskets filled with glittery boxes. She’s in her school uniform and doesn’t even know what to buy.
Eventually, she inches into the shop and slinks among the displays, pauses in front of a cabinet of lipliners, eyeliners, lipstick and lip gloss. How will she choose?
‘Excuse me!’ A young black-haired woman with perfect, sculpted cheeks, luscious lips and enormous lashes reaches past her and grabs a lipstick from the Mecca Max range. Audrey shrinks out of the way.
‘This is the best,’ the woman declares to her friend who is similarly polished. ‘Liar Liar. Have you tried it?’
‘I like nude,’ says her friend. Light hair, dark roots, bow-lipped. ‘I use Skimpy.’
The sweet scent of their perfume washes over Audrey as they drop their spoils into their baskets and drift away. Audrey leans forward and carefully extracts a stick of Liar Liar from the display. It’s pink but not too strong. She takes a box of Skimpy too, and holds it in her clammy hand while she chooses eyeliner. The Mecca Max brand is cheapest; liquid liner in black. Then she selects mascara and an expensive palette of eye shadow.
It takes ten minutes in the queue to reach the cash register, where she hands over nearly two hundred dollars of her savings.
On the bus home, her mother calls. Audrey tells her she’s still with Darcie. After she hangs up, she opens her pink Mecca Maxima bag to examine her purchases. Turns the sparkly boxes over in her hands. Pulls out one of the lipsticks. She can’t wait to try it out, but she feels bad about the story she told her mother. Her mum won’t mind about the make-up, but she won’t be happy if she finds out the truth about Darcie.
Audrey puts the lipstick back in its box and squirms when she looks at the label again. Liar Liar.
Saturday morning, first day of the April school holidays, Audrey wanders around the house with a stone in her stomach. She tries to eat breakfast but feels like she’s choking. It’s like this before every game, but worse today because she has to start on the bench.
She rushes to the toilet. Guts cramping, she sits on the loo, scrolling through Instagram. Big mistake. A video pops up of Katerina doing ball tricks—around the world, a rainbow, holding the ball on her foot or on the back of her neck. Audrey can do those tricks too, but she can’t string them together one after another like Katerina. Her thumb hovers over the screen. Should she like it? If she doesn’t, she’ll be the only one from the team who hasn’t. Even Alex liked it, and that hurts. Why is he following Katerina anyway?
Her stomach spasms as she scrolls through the comments. Flames and hearts and clapping hands. It goes on and on. They’re all such suck-ups. Audrey refuses to like it.
Back in the kitchen, she rinses her bowl and slots it in the dishwasher. Her father emerges from his office with some sheets of paper in one hand, textas in the other. ‘Dining room, Audrey. I know you’re starting on the bench, but we should still have our little talk.’
The stone in her stomach grows heavier. Do they really have to do this every week?
She picks up the dog and follows her father to the table, where he drags out a chair and waits for her to sit, inspecting her with eyes sharp and shiny as an eagle. She tucks Honey on her lap.
‘Put the dog down so you can concentrate,’ he says.
Reluctantly, she sets Honey on the floor and watches her trot out of the room.
‘You’re playing the Tigers today,’ her father says, twiddling a texta between his fingers. ‘When Dominik lets you go on, you’ll need to go hard. They don’t give up easily.’
She peers at him attentively, because she knows he likes it when she seems interested. ‘Do you think we can beat them?’ she asks.
His face lights up. ‘Good chance if you play hard and stay calm. They’re hotheads, and they’ll say all sorts of rubbish, so you have to make sure you don’t listen.’ He draws a large rectangle on a piece of paper then adds a goal at each end and marks one with a cross. ‘This is your goal.’ He taps the texta on the paper. Then he draws a stick figure and says, ‘If you’re playing right wing today, this will be you.’ Despite her heavy stomach, she smiles to herself; he’s so crap at drawing.
He draws a circle to outline her area of play then a series of arrows to demonstrate different attacking scenarios. She nods and keeps her eyes on the paper because she knows that’s what he expects of her.
‘Okay,’ he says. ‘What if Dominik decides to play you in defence instead? What should you do when the Tigers striker has the ball?’
Audrey tries to think. ‘Push him wide so he can’t shoot?’
‘Good. What else?’
She stares at the paper. ‘Pass down the line, not into the centre?’
‘Excellent. What else?’
She sucks on a hank of hair and squeezes her eyes half shut. ‘Tackle?’
‘Yes, but not in front of goal. This lot dive like submarines, and if you bring a player down, they’ll beg for a penalty. They’re Hollywood actors.’
He drones on about overlapping and positioning and opening out and other technical stuff, until eventually she switches off.
When he’s finished, he tells her she’ll do well. But how can he know? She might be on the bench for the whole game, especially now that Griffin is in the team. ‘I’ll do my best,’ she says.
He pats her shoulder. ‘I know you will. And don’t forget to go through your list.’
She forces a smile. Her father’s list lives on the fridge under a Nike magnet.
AUDREY’S PREP LIST
Warm up and stretch
Think positive
No ball-watching
Stay in position
Run into space
First to the ball
Eyes up
Call for the ball
First touch
Tackle
No princesses
Every week, she looks at that list and wants to tear it up. What does her father mean by ‘no princesses’? And where’s Alex’s list? Why doesn’t he have one?
In the kitchen, she tugs the stupid list off the fridge and the magnet falls to the floor. She picks it up and turns it over in her hands. Under the Nike Swoosh it says Just Do It.
If only it was that simple.
At the Tigers home grounds, Audrey stumbles from the cramped back seat of her dad’s Porsche, and shivers in the wind. The sky is patched with clouds and the maple trees along the edge of the car park are turning golden.
She trails Alex across the tarmac to the change rooms under the grandstand where the walls are cold and echoey. Her belly is a hard little ball and she feels like vomiting. All the way here, her father kept giving her encouraging smiles in the rear-view mirror as though somehow it would help. It only makes things worse.
In the change room, even though Alex is still a bit down about his knee, he yells hello to everyone. All Audrey can manage is a trembling smile. The reek of boys and boots and deodorant makes her feel sick. She pulls off her tracksuit pants and perches on a bench to put on her boots, tying her laces slowly so she doesn’t have to talk to anyone. Clods of mud with neat holes in them drop to the floor from the underside of her boots and she swipes them under the seat, out of sight.
Viktor barges in, grinning, and everyone crowds around him shouting ‘Happy Birthday’. He turned fourteen yesterday, but you wouldn’t think so—his brain has a long way to go to catch up with his body. Audrey hates the way Katerina skips around him like a goat, butting him with her elbows while he laughs and pats her on the head. Audrey would never suck up to him like that, not even so that he would pass to her.
In the corner, Griffin watches the others and smiles. He catches Audrey looking at him and his eyes brighten. She wonders how it’s possible to feel hot and cold at the same time.
Dominik looms in the doorway and everyone goes quiet. He reads out the starting list. Griffin is first. Then all the usuals. Audrey is on the bench, as expected. She’s not the only one—there are three others as well, including Alex. She glances at him and wonders if she looks as glum as he does. It sucks being on the bench—you don’t get to warm up with the starting players because you have to fire balls at goalies. This doesn’t make sense to Audrey. Everyone should warm up properly. Otherwise, if you haven’t honed your touch, how can you play well?
The starting players cluster together, chatting and joking. Katerina is among them, which she shouldn’t be, because her game’s been off. She catches Audrey looking at her. ‘What are you staring at?’ she sneers.
‘Nothing.’
She sashays over to Audrey. ‘You think you’re so good, don’t you?’ she hisses. ‘But we all know you’re not.’
Audrey glances at the others, and luckily nobody’s looking, so she gives Katerina the finger. Katerina’s lip curls and she pretends to lose balance and stumbles into Audrey, shoving with her hip. Audrey crashes sideways into the bench.
