Gracie Faltrain Gets it Right (Finally) (8 page)

The thought of more Maths on top of what I'm doing at school makes me feel sick. Plus, I don't have the time if I want to train with Kally and Dan. ‘I'll try harder. I'll pass the next test.'

‘Mrs Ruse said there's one in three weeks. We'll leave it that long and then I'm finding you some help.'

I sit in my room with Jane until dinner. Mum and Dad's voices sink through the walls. ‘It won't help to push her, Helen.'

‘One of us has to do something. She's going to fail Year 12.'

‘And if she did, would it be the worst thing in the world? Maybe we need to look at alternatives. Maybe she should go to a technical college and study something like hospitality.'

‘That would be fine if she had a passion for food but liking doughnuts doesn't mean she should work in catering.'

‘It's documented,' Jane says, turning up the music so we can't hear them. ‘Year 12 makes parents crazy. There's no cure.'

‘Your parents aren't ringing every five minutes checking you're chained to a desk.'

‘You'll hate it if you fail, Faltrain. Especially if Annabelle and Kally and Dan and Alyce and me pass.'

‘So I won't fail.' I open my book so that I don't have to meet her eyes. Jane's silences say more than her snappy comebacks sometimes.

While I'm meant to be studying I make notes on all the soccer techniques that Kally and I talked about today. If she didn't live with Annabelle I'd call her so we could go over them. Tonight, with her and Dan, I felt smart. I feel like an idiot now. Mum and Jane are wrong. I will pass. I'll pick up my game in school after I consolidate my spot on the state squad.

‘How'd you go in the essay this morning?' Jane asks after a while.

‘Good.' For the second time tonight I don't look her in the eye. It's been an even weirder day than yesterday. I've spent more time with my old enemies than with my best friends. I wonder what those people who say there's a reason for everything would say is the reason for that.

‘I had to be cruel to be kind,' I say to Corelli when I call him later. ‘If she's smart enough to work out how to get the ball around five guys in the midfield, she's smart enough to pass Year 12.'

‘Mmm hmm.'

‘What are you eating?'

‘Homemade pizza. You want to come around for some on Friday night?'

‘And that would be what they call a “rhetorical question”.'

‘I like a girl who can use the word “rhetorical” in casual conversation.'

‘I like a guy who can use “homemade pizza”.'

And I definitely like that Corelli is someone I can talk about the goats with.

Dad puts a coffee on the table next to the bed. ‘Seven o'clock,' he says, heavy shadows under his eyes.

I dress in my suit and by ten I feel like an idiot because I've got no interviews. ‘I rang every number I found on that job site. I can't even get an interview at the local milk bar.'

‘Saturday's a better time to look,' Dad says. ‘Why don't you give yourself a break?'

‘I'll never get anything if I don't keep at it. Most kids got jobs in Year 10.'

‘You were busy at home. Not your fault.' He rinses his cup. ‘I'm off, Marty. You can do any of those jobs with your eyes closed, experienced or not.'

‘You want to ring and tell them?'

‘That's what you need to do. Turn up to one of those places. Show them what you're made of.'

*

By five I've shown one guy what I'm made of. I dropped a tray of four lattés in his lap. ‘I'm really sorry, mate.'

‘You drop burning milk in a guy's lap and you're not his mate,' the manager said. He had a point.

I spend some time in the city watching people go home from their jobs. ‘What are you looking at?' I say to the row of birds sitting on the concrete. ‘At least you can fly north for nothing. I need money.'

‘Got a dollar?' the old guy next to me asks.

I dig into my pocket. ‘Yeah, mate. I got a dollar.' For now.

I check my phone in case anyone's returned my calls about work. The only message is from Flemming. ‘Haven't seen you for a while, mate. Call me if you want to do something.' I delete it before I think too much. I figure hanging out with the team means running into Faltrain. It means lying to everyone about uni.

There's no point in looking for work now. The day's over. Dad's right. It's time to give myself a break. I head to the cinema.

It's almost empty when I arrive. I fish around in my pocket for change. ‘One concession to see . . . Orion.'

‘You don't need a ticket to see me. Which film?'

‘Uh,
Jeronimo Five
.'

‘It's good,' she says, and takes my money. ‘I'm filling in until eight because someone quit. I can give you a lift home after the film if you want.'

I weigh up the likelihood of Mrs Faltrain letting her daughter out on a school night with the likelihood of Faltrain lying and going anyway. It's a risk but I take it. ‘Yeah, thanks, Orion. That'd be good.'

‘Annabelle,' she says, and holds my ticket till I say her name.

I watch cars explode and all I can think about is that day we kissed. It was after I'd found out Faltrain had lied about getting in touch with my mum. My head was thumping with all these thoughts, about Dad and what seeing Mum might do to him.

Annabelle found me on the steps of my house, holding a postcard. ‘What's that?' she asked.

‘Mum and me bought it on our last holiday.' I went to rip it up but she stopped me.

‘You have to keep the good stuff,' she said.

I knew it would hurt Faltrain; maybe that's why I did it. Or maybe it was because somehow, Annabelle was saying something that made sense after a day when nothing made sense. Whatever it was, she kissed me and I let her and then I left and went to that spot on the postcard. She was right. You do have to keep the good stuff.

‘So, how long have you worked here?' I ask after the film.

‘Since last September.'

‘I'm job hunting. I haven't had any luck yet.'

‘They're looking for someone here,' she says, putting on her backpack. ‘You want me to get the manager?'

‘That'd be great.' That'd be fantastic.

Maybe it is like Faltrain says, some things are fate. Annabelle tells her boss I'd be good; he asks me a few questions and puts me on the list for training. ‘You can start Sunday night. There's a trial period of a month and then we'll see. I'm sure you'll be fine.'

I try to think of something to say in Annabelle's car on the way home. ‘This thing must be a hundred years old. Where'd you get it?

‘My dad gave it to me.' We both talk at the same time, then. She says, ‘He left it for me in his will.'

And I tell her, ‘You're lucky. I'd give anything to have a car.' There's quiet while I realise what I've said. ‘I mean, I'd give anything except my dad. Sorry, Orion. I mean Annabelle. I just forgot for a second.'

‘It's okay. Why would you remember? It was ages ago and I never talk about him.' She says it as straight as Faltrain's kicks and then changes the subject. ‘What about your mum? Did you ever meet her?'

‘Dad gave me her number but I don't reckon I'll call.'

‘You don't want to talk to her?' She can't hide it this time; there's hunger in her voice.

‘I'm still thinking about it,' I say, so I don't feel like I'm throwing away food in front of her.

‘I'll see you Sunday, then?' she asks, pulling up in front of my house.

‘Yeah.' I want to see her before then but I can't think of how to ask after being such an idiot. I slam the door. And for the second time in a week I watch her back lights fade.

I never talk about Dad and now all of a sudden I'm blurting out things like he died when I was eleven and I'd give anything to have him back. ‘Martin probably thinks I'm an idiot, Dad,' I say.

My words surprise me. I haven't spoken to Dad since the night of the funeral.

We stayed at Kally's house in the country for the weeks after he died. I didn't even talk to her about it and we were more friends than cousins. I remember her bringing me mugs of milky tea. Her skin smelt like jam and I can still feel the warmth of her as she curled next to me on the old iron bed that sagged in the middle. I loved her for that, for being determined to get close.

I'm glad she's living with us this year. She's brushing her teeth when I walk in tonight. I lie in the empty bath and watch. ‘How did training with Dan go?'

‘Better. I have to nail it Sunday at trials, though. I can't mess up again.'

‘You won't.'

‘I might.' She eases herself into the other side of the bath. ‘How angry would you be if I told you I was training with Gracie?'

‘Can she help?'

‘Maybe. She knows how to win against guys. The trials coaches have organised a practice match before the final state selection that's pretty important – it'll be the under-18 boys against the girls. Gracie's good, Annie. I've been kicking the ball around with her this week, you know in frees and at lunch and recess. Does that bother you?'

‘Just don't ask me to hang out with the two of you.' We sit for a while without talking. ‘I drove Martin home tonight,' I say to end the silence. ‘It's funny how Gracie and I like the same guys and hate each other.'

‘Do you really hate her?'

‘I know she's not all bad. Martin loved her. Maybe he still does. Dan won't stop talking about her. But I can't forget how she acted the year Dad died.'

‘That's the first time I've heard you mention him in ages,' Kally says.

‘I've been thinking about him lately.' I pick up the rubber duck I've had since I was a kid. ‘Martin's mum came back this year. He doesn't want to talk to her.'

Kally gives me a smile but doesn't answer. There's no answer to that. Except that life's stupid and unfair. Isn't that right, Dad? I think. ‘Yep, Annie,' I imagine him saying with his crooked smile. ‘Stupid and unfair. You got it in one.'

I took a chance this afternoon and visited Annabelle. Okay, the truth is more like I thought about her for hours and when I couldn't stand it anymore I walked past her house and her mum was out the front.

‘It's nice to see you, Martin. I hear you've been on a trip.'

‘Yeah. I went up the coast with Joe Davis.'

‘Beautiful. Annabelle will be home soon. Let me finish up here and I'll get you a drink.' She tipped a plant out of its small box and loosened the dirt around the roots. ‘It's my fifth time trying to grow this one.'

‘Why not plant something else?'

‘I like the smell near the front door. Especially coming up to winter.'

Watching Mrs Orion dragged me back to Mum. I remembered spending days in the garden with her. She taught me how to plant things and then we checked every day for signs of green.

‘Hey,' Annabelle called, stepping out of the car. Her face was pink. She smiled and I couldn't stop staring.

‘Do you want to stay for dinner?' her mum asked.

‘Yeah,' I said. ‘That'd be good.'

I liked sitting with them, chatting about the day and chopping vegetables. I liked listening to her mum shout, ‘Deal,' at a guy who walked away with $50,000 because he didn't risk it all for the unknown amount in the suitcase.

Kally came in after a bit. She told us about Faltrain copping it at the gym on Tuesday. It felt weird, hearing that second-hand, like I was looking in a mirror front-on and seeing my back. It felt okay, though.

The three of them chatted and laughed. It felt more than okay to be there with Annabelle. She has this way of talking that makes everything interesting. She holds her hands out like she's giving you something. She listens and you get the feeling she's hearing what you really mean, not what you're telling her.

She showed me her room before I left. The shelves were full of books and there was a picture on the wall splashed with colour. ‘It's just a poster,' she said. ‘The real thing would cost a fortune. Dad loved the artist, Angela Brennan. So do I.'

‘What is it, though?'

‘Not everything's about words. Sometimes art's about how you feel.' She stared at me. ‘How do you feel when you look at it?'

‘Colourful? That's stupid, right?'

She shook her head. ‘I feel happy when I see it. I think about this day that Dad and Mum and I spent in the garden,
lying in the afternoon sun. The shade was creeping in and we kept moving to stay out of the cold.' She smiled. ‘I haven't thought about that day in a while. Does that ever happen to you, with your mum?'

‘Yeah. I thought about her in the garden, today. She was always planting stuff.'

I couldn't understand how the person I was talking to was the same person who treated Alyce like crap and fought with Faltrain.

‘You've got a weird look on your face. It's like this.' She squashed up her nose.

‘I don't look like that.'

‘You did, just then.'

‘I was thinking about last year, how it seems far away.'

‘It does,' she said, and I noticed that she had freckles. I noticed that I liked them. I guess I've never been up close enough to see them before.

Dan's wearing his lip ring and his faded leather jacket when he walks into detention. In the words of Alyce, ‘My, it's hot in here.' I've skipped winter and gone straight to summer.

‘I'm working on Maths,' I say, and pretend to think so that I impress him. Who am I kidding, though? If I could pretend to think, I wouldn't be failing school. ‘Do you want some help?' he asks.

‘Are you any good at Maths?'

‘Yeah, I'm good,' he says, and pulls my book over.

He is good. He goes through each problem so I actually understand. He has to repeat things because sometimes he says, ‘The point at which two lines meet is called the intersection.' And I hear: ‘Blah, blah, blah,' at first because I'm thinking about how good his hands look when he's holding his pen. I notice that a lot of girls are looking at the way he
holds his pen. It's times like these you need to show a little ownership. ‘Here,' I say. ‘Use my pen.'

‘Okay. Mine was working fine, though.' His breath is a warm wind on my face. Any minute I'm going to explode.

‘My mum's a Maths teacher,' he says. ‘She has a t-shirt that says
Mathematicians Rock
.'

‘Sorry,' I tell him. ‘My dad likes books.'

‘No, it's actually good. I need to ace the final exam. I'm applying for Aviation Engineering.'

‘You want to make birds?'

He laughs. ‘I want to make planes. I need a tertiary entrance rank of about 80. Kally's helping me out, too. She needs to score high to get into Astronomy and Astrophysics.'

‘She doesn't want to play in the World Cup?'

‘Yeah, but you know all of those players have a fallback. You need money.' His next question is heading towards me like Truck on the soccer field. There's no avoiding it. ‘What do you want to do next year?'

It's what Jane calls a loaded gun. I have to reply carefully or it'll go off in my face. Saying I don't have a plan other than soccer makes me look like an episode of
Sesame Street
next to Kally, who's the SBS
World News
: smart with a great sporting segment. ‘I'm thinking about Sports Management or Physiotherapy.' It's technically not a lie. Mum's been thinking about them for me lately and there was a time when we shared a body.

‘Cool,' Dan says, tapping my pen on the desk. ‘We're nearly out of here. Are you doing anything tonight?'

Okay, I'm getting a date signal. It's a faint pink glow on the horizon but it's there.

‘My parents want me home to study.' But I'm open to suggestions.

‘You could study at my place. Mum could help with those last few questions.'

‘She wouldn't mind?'

‘Are you kidding? She'll wear her t-shirt and think it's Christmas.'

After dinner Mrs Woodbury helps me with Maths. Dan's not kidding about her t-shirt, either. The great thing is she's smart but she doesn't make me feel dumb. She goes over the questions and if I don't understand she uses examples from soccer.

‘I get it. I actually understand. Thanks, Mrs Woodbury.' I feel like I've kicked a goal from the centre line.

‘Any time,' she says. ‘I mean it.'

‘Actually, I sort of need a tutor. Mum's willing to pay.' I know Dan would help for free, but it's easier to concentrate around his mum. I haven't felt like this since Year 9. I'd forgotten, but I was good at Maths then. I actually got full marks for most of my tests.

‘Tell her to call me,' Mrs Woodbury says. ‘And it's free of charge, by the way.'

‘Your mum's nice,' I say on the way home.

‘She's okay.' His arm leans on the window. His fingers tap to the music. I only think about Martin once and that's to think that I'm not thinking about him so it doesn't count. When we stop Dan leans in a little. The one thing about Maths I do know is how it applies to the dating rules. If a guy
leans more than forty-five degrees in your direction, it's ninety-nine per cent certain you're about to get lucky. Dan leans. I hold my breath. And then he kisses me on the cheek. What? That's not a good sign. I've given my grandma more passionate kisses.

I walk inside and share the confusion around. I hand Mrs Woodbury's number to Mum. ‘She's really good. I asked her to tutor me. Is that all right?'

‘That's wonderful, Gracie. Bill, did you hear that? Gracie organised a tutor.'

I sit on the couch next to him. ‘You've made her day,' he says.

‘I do my best. What's on?'

‘A documentary on the Map turtle. Apparently they're quite shy.'

Maybe they start by kissing each other on the cheek, I think as a loud bump comes from Jane's room. ‘I'm fine,' she yells. ‘I knocked over my lamp after a dream, that's all.'

I watch the end of the documentary with Dad. ‘They look weird,' I say, as the turtles walk across the screen.

‘One thing I've learnt since getting Foxtel,' Dad says. ‘The world is a strange place.' We watch the female turtle approaching the male. ‘And sometimes it's very confusing.'

Okay. Nobody panic. I just dreamt about Corelli in the Superman suit he wore on show-and-tell days in primary school. And I liked it. But I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation. Eating pizza late at night means you dream weird things, doesn't it.
Doesn't
it?