Gracie Faltrain Gets it Right (Finally) (21 page)

At least she would have to forgive me if I was on time. Crap, crap, crap, crap. ‘I'm late,' I yell across the house. ‘Someone get up and drive me to the practice match.' I lean over Dad who's snoring. ‘GET UP!' I yell into his face. He springs out of bed like I've thrown cold water on him. ‘Today, people. It's an emergency. Forget showers. Jane, get in the car. Mum, grab the breakfast bars. Dad, actually you can get changed. I'm not taking you out in those pyjamas.'

‘Can't this thing go any faster?' I ask.

‘I'm doing the speed limit, baby.' I look past Dad to the clock. I'm twenty minutes late. I'll miss the first half. I'm out of the car before it's fully stopped. I run across the ground in time to hear the whistle. Oh no. ‘Five goals? We're five goals down?'

‘I'd punish you and keep you off but we're dying out there,' Coach Adelaide says. ‘Warm up. You're on after the break.'

‘I slept in,' I say to Kally. ‘I wasn't at training last night because I spoke to Martin. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.'

‘Tell it to my hair,' she says.

‘Okay.' I lean close to her head. ‘I'm sorry.'

She tries not to smile.

‘I can fix this. Don't worry. Okay, everyone get over here.' The team crowds around. ‘Give me the run-down. Why are they beating us?'

‘We're playing like crap,' Char says.

‘Okay, that was a quick run-down.'

‘They're not breaking the rules. They're rough and fast and we can't keep up and it's scary out there,' Kally says. ‘And we needed you in the first half to get a lead.'

‘I know. But blame isn't helping. I want you to remember what we talked about at training. I want you to run as hard as you can.' I'm actually at a loss after that. I don't know what else to tell them. They're good. It just might be that today, the boys are better.

It's lucky for all of us that Flemming swings over. ‘Faltrain, tell them to stop backing off when the guys run with their arms out.'

‘Spoken like a man without boobs.'

‘They have to hold their ground. You see the ref who's on?'

I look across. ‘It's Hoover.'

‘He red-cards at the drop of a hat and Truck knows it. The guys haven't actually broken any rules yet.'

‘I think it'd be good if you told them that.' I know it helped me to hear it from Flemming all those years ago.

He calls to them and goes over his Hoover theory. And then he says, ‘It's not about girls and guys. The only player
I've ever seen who's as good as me out there is Faltrain. So beat the crap out of them in the second half.'

Who knew he had a sensitive side? ‘That's the nicest thing you've ever said about me.'

‘Keep your hair on, Faltrain. You haven't won yet.'

He's right. I need to fix that. Kally kicks to me and I pass the ball to Esther. Truck runs alongside but she moves faster. Go, go, go, I think as she moves towards goal. Their defence nearly has her but she's quicker. She shoots. She makes it. I see the confidence building on her face. I hope the rest of the team sees it. I hope it's catching.

We start again. Truck gets the ball this time and moves down the field. I run after him. He puts his hands out but I'd rather lose a boob than my hair. I want Dan back and nothing dints a girl's confidence quicker than a close encounter with clippers set at number one. I take the ball and kick to Kally, she kicks to Sophia, who loses it to their midfielder and the whole thing starts again. This time I see, though. Their centre forward doesn't shoot well with his right foot. He gets the ball and I force him to switch feet. When he does the ball is mine. I'm not taking any chances. I sail straight down the midfield and send it through to goal.

I run past Dan. He doesn't say anything but he looks relieved. Corelli gives me a nod. Francavilla waves from the bench. Take a look, Truck, I want to say. Not everyone's dying to give us a buzz cut.

There are twenty minutes left and we need to kick at least three more goals. It takes us ten minutes to score the next one and six to score the one after that. That leaves us four minutes to tie and get out of this thing on a technicality.

I take a breath. I see my path. I can do this. I have the ball at three minutes to go. I fly. I make it past their defence with two minutes to spare. No one can stop me. I kick. The whistle goes. Actually, that should be the other way around. The whistle goes. I kick.

Did I make the most amazing run down the midfield? Yes. Did I kick the ball through to the back of the net? Absolutely. Did I do it after the whistle? Unfortunately for us, yes.

The boys are going wild. They're yelling about the clippers they have in their bags. My team looks, well, panicked. ‘No one could have come closer to making that shot, Gracie,' Kally says. The team nod.

Adelaide pats me on the back. ‘Amazing second half.' But that's the thing. I always come through in the second half and for the first half I'm an idiot. And someone always loses something because of me. It doesn't matter that I thought the bet was stupid. I agreed to it. I promised to be here and I wasn't.

The boys gather around. Dan, Corelli, Singh and Francavilla aren't the only guys who look uncomfortable. ‘No one really wants to do this,' Dan says. ‘They played a great game out there.'

‘A deal's a deal,' Truck says, and turns on the clippers.

Looking at him, waving those things, I get scared. But that passes and I get angry: at me for stuffing up and at Truck for being such an idiot. ‘I've played on a boys' side for six years,' I say. ‘They didn't care that I was girl. They backed me up. I think you're a great player, I think I'm a great player. So why do we have to do this?'

‘Just because you really annoy me,' he says.

I guess you can't rely on the light being switched on in someone else's brain because it's finally switched on in yours. Fighting like this gets you nowhere. But truthfully? It's hard to blame Truck for being so stupid when I've been stupid for the past three years. I like stupid people, some of my best friends are stupid people. You'll notice at this point that I'm babbling. That's because I know what I'm about to do.

Sometimes, you have to take charge. You have to stop caring what other people think and do what you want. ‘I was late,' I say. ‘I'm their coach. I let them down. And what's more, after six years of high school, I'm really tired of following the who-hates-who rules. I take full responsibility for the bet. I shave my head and the girls are off the hook. Agreed?'

‘Agreed,' Truck says.

I act fast. It's the right of every idiot who agrees to have their head shaved to shave it themselves. I snatch the clippers out of his hand before he realises what's happening. Dan watches me with his mouth hanging open as I shave my hair off. I guess I won't be having those cascading curls at the end-of-year formal. Kally gets the parts I can't reach. I run my hands over it. ‘Smooth. There'll definitely be less wind resistance when I run at the state finals.'

Char looks at me with her hand over her mouth. ‘Don't worry. The back of my hair never sat right, all through high school.' And when things don't work out right, sometimes you just have to start all over again.

‘That's our Gracie. That's the girl we raised,' I say to Bill. ‘I never realised what a lovely shaped head she has.'

‘I'm buying Gracie lunch,' Kally says. ‘Anyone who wants to come is welcome.' The only person who doesn't come is Annabelle. I want to say something to her before she leaves but there are too many people crowding me, feeling my head. ‘Talk to her later,' Kally says. ‘Celebrate now.'

Kally sits next to me at the café. ‘I'm sorry,' I say. ‘I know why you didn't tell me about Annabelle and Martin.'

‘You came through when it counted. You sorted everything out with him?'

‘We're talking again, which is good.'

She looks across at Dan. ‘You might want to put him out of his misery soon. He decided it'd be a sign if you called him.'

I know better than anyone that if you wait for the signs all your life, you'll never get what you want. I catch Dan's eye and he follows me outside.

‘Before you say anything, the girlfriend/boyfriend rules clearly state that boyfriends have to like all new haircuts.'

‘This is taking it to the extreme, though.' He runs his hand over my head. ‘It feels weird.'

‘You're telling me.'

‘I don't know if I can be your boyfriend. I'm not saying we can't be friends, but if you're still thinking about Knight, there's not a lot of point.'

‘I know it looks that way. I was hurt that he'd kept such a big secret from me. But I don't like him like that anymore. I don't know what's going to happen next year. I'm hoping for
the Young Matildas and I want to study. For now, I want to hang out with you.'

‘That's what I want,' he says. ‘But if we do ever break up I'm going to expect you to run over me with a bus or I'm going to think you never loved me.'

‘I'm more mature now. Maybe I'll just hit you with a bike. So, tell me the truth, do you really like my hair?'

‘I think you're gorgeous.'

‘That's the right answer.'

‘You remind me of a ripe summer melon or a peach.'

‘Okay, let's stop there.' A few secrets between friends are absolutely fine.

‘Would you like me without my hair?' I ask Corelli.

‘Of course. Would you like me if I waxed my legs?' he asks.

‘My love is unconditional.'

Before you ask, yes, Alyce. I would like you without your hair.

Dan pulls up at the Orions' house after our celebration and I get out of the car with Kally. ‘I need to talk to Annabelle,' I say, and follow her up the path.

I've never been inside this house before. Her kitchen looks the same as ours. There are notices on the fridge and dishes in the sink. After hating her for so long it's weird to realise she goes home to a place like mine.

I follow Kally down the hallway. I knock on Annabelle's door. ‘Can I come in?'

‘Yeah,' she says, and clears a space on her bed for me to sit. It's even stranger for me to be in here than in the kitchen. I've only ever seen Annabelle's face, never the things she's interested in, never the things she loves.

‘I like your picture.' I look at it, splashed with colour above her bed.

‘She was my dad's favourite artist. Angela Brennan,' she says, and I listen while she talks about her. You have to hear
the details of people, I figure, because in the big picture, when they're far away, they're way too easy to hate.

I look at Annabelle and try to see her as someone who Kally and Dan and Martin love. ‘I'm sorry about the things I did to you in Year 6, when your dad died.' It's unknown territory, being nice to Annabelle. It's like in Year 7 Drama when the teacher made us improvise a play. I'm not exactly sure what our next lines are going to be.

‘I was pretty awful to you, as well,' she says.

‘It's weird, how things have ended up. You're with Martin and I'm with Dan. Kally's my friend. Maybe Jane's right. She says we're not all that different.'

‘I have hair,' she says.

‘I can't argue with that.'

‘Does this make us friends?' she asks.

I'd be lying if I said yes. I don't think I can be friends with her after everything that's happened over the years. ‘No,' I say. ‘But it makes us not enemies.' And for now, that's as close to friends with her as I can get.

Annabelle comes to the door wearing her pyjamas. I stare at her, stomach twisting, hands sweating. She opens her mouth to say something. I know there are a lot of things to say, a million things, maybe. I know the last time I saw her she was angry with me. But I've been waiting all year to get close to her, so before she speaks I kiss her. I reckon that Annabelle Orion is the only road trip worth going on. She's ocean and sun and salt and days of nothing to do.

I pull away. ‘I told Faltrain.'

‘What did you tell her?'

‘I told her about you and me. That we're going on a trip and we're coming back. That we're studying and hanging out together next year and maybe visiting my mum in Sydney, one day.'

‘You didn't tell me half of that. How do you know I'll say yes to it all?'

‘I don't,' I tell her. ‘But I'm hoping.'

Every night for the past two weeks I've written in the diary that Brett gave me. I've neatly copied in my lists about him onto the pages. I've started a new line for everything I like. I've written an entry about how I felt when he asked me out. I've written who I was before I met him and who I am now. I've finished with a list of all the things I wish for him next year. Last night I wrapped it carefully in paper covered with football players. I put it in an Express Post bag addressed to him. I hope that he reads it.

Don't worry, Corelli. Girls love a man who can cry.
Gracie Faltrain

It's the first day of spring and the last game of the school soccer season. The wind is warm and the trees are pink. And yes. I'm feeling a little sentimental. I won't play on my school soccer team ever again. We didn't make it through to the finals this year. Like Coach said, ‘We were about as focused out there as a bag of toy cameras.' But it's the last time we'll play as a team for the school. ‘It's your finale,' Dad says. ‘The last song.'

I look at my team before the whistle. I've been with these guys, with this coach, since Year 7. Sure, the team has changed a little. Martin and Flemming are on the side. There's finally another girl on the squad. But in spirit, we're all here.

‘Are you crying, Corelli?' Francavilla asks.

‘No. There's something in my eye.'

Yep. I'm definitely going to miss the old times.

We make it a great last game. We win. The sun is warm on my face. The grass is soft. Blossoms fall from the trees at the
edge of the field and as the crowd cheers from the side those blossoms look a little like confetti.

‘So tomorrow we find out if we made the state squad,' Kally says. ‘Char Taylor told me that there's at least one surprise in the selection.' I run my hand over my itchy head. It's been a year for surprises.

‘Do you think we made it?' I ask, thinking about how late I was to that practice match against the boys. ‘If anyone's a wild card it's me.'

‘Nothing we can do about it now,' she says. ‘Nothing but hope.'