Head of the River (15 page)

In the shop there's a pile up of recently awarded kids putting in their orders before we break. Prefects, sports captains, house captains. It's an orgy of over-achievers. I inch forward in line. The room is stuffy and suffocating.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn around.

‘Getting your captain's pocket?' Sam asks. His voice has none of the softness from the weekend. He's standing very upright, his hands in his pockets. Not looking me in the eye. Classic bad body language.

‘Yep. You?'

I'd expected something different after we spent the afternoon together. I wasn't with Adam anymore, he could ask me out. Why wasn't he asking me out? Instead of changing the channel we seemed to have resumed normal programming. Co-captains. Friends? Friends with benefits?

‘Same.'

As I get to the front of the queue, I hand the lady my filled-in form.

‘Captain of Boats. Congratulations, Leni. I hear the team is looking good again this year. So you want to pay for this now, my dear?'

I take out my wallet. ‘How much is it?'

‘That's ninety-five.'

‘Dollars?'

‘Yes. Want to put it on your account?'

Ninety-five dollars is too much. I backtrack, embarrassed.

‘No, it's okay. I'll hold that order until next year. Sorry.'

I leave the woman and run out of the shop, mortified.

‘Where you going, Leni?' shouts Sam behind me. ‘Hey!'

Sam catches up with me at my locker. I'm cornered against a row of steel. There's no one in the room. I'm trapped.

‘What's up? Why didn't you get your pocket?' he asks, frowning.

‘I just didn't,' I open my locker and grab my bag to keep my hands busy. There's no way I'm admitting I can't afford it.

‘But why? It'll look weird if we both don't have them.'

‘I'll get it next year.'

I go to leave the room, but Sam stops me.

‘Would you mind if I bought it for you? He pulls out a shiny credit card. ‘My parents don't check this card, especially school stuff. Let me do this.'

I feel a flash of anger and frustration. Is this chivalry or pity? How did I bounce from one benefactor to another so quickly?

‘Just because we did that stuff on the weekend, you don't owe me anything.'

‘It's not because we kissed.'

‘We did more than just kiss.'

‘I was trying to help. Fine. Do it your way.'

He walks away, but then spins around and comes at me with an intensity I'm not ready for.

‘My parents dumped me in an apartment, by myself, to go and do yoga in a rainforest. One of the small ways I can get back at them is to spend their money, you'd actually be doing me a favour.'

I laugh and he joins in, the tension broken.

‘I need to do this myself. I've got a job this summer.'

Sam sighs with his whole body. ‘You still don't get it, do you?'

‘What?'

He leans against a locker and puts one foot up, rests his head back. I look at his Adam's apple with pure lust. If this wasn't a locker room, in the middle of school, I'm not sure I could stop myself pouncing on him.

‘Want to know why I took up rowing? When I had all that sponsorship in mountain biking?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Because it meant I didn't have to do
everything
by myself. On the trail it's me, a bike and some hills and trees for company. But on the river, eight guys have got my back. And I've got theirs.'

For all my obsessing over Sam, I hardly even know him at all. Rowing makes him feel less lonely? I didn't even think he needed other people. But letting him pay goes against everything my parents have taught me. They are proud people, and so am I.

‘We're not on the river now, Sam.'

‘It doesn't matter. I've got your back, too. We're part of the same team. Co-captains.'

‘It wouldn't feel right.'

He walks away. ‘See ya at training,' he says over his shoulder.

I'm left hanging, the taste of disappointment in my
mouth. I slam my locker shut, nicking the corner of my thumb in the door. I cry out in frustration and pain as a group of
obnoxious Year Sevens walk in. I suck on my thumb and
they laugh nervously.

‘What the hell are you laughing at?' I shout.

Cristian

It's the third-last period of the school year and I've been called to Mr Forrester, my year level coordinator's office. When I get there, Westie is sitting in the room. I know what it's about.

‘Cristian, sit down,' says Mr Forrester.

‘Is this about my marks?'

‘Yes,' says Mr Forrester.

I got them back earlier in the day and shoved them into the bottom of my bag, hoping they would stay buried. Knowing that, like a dead body in a shallow grave, the horror of them would be dug up soon enough. Four Ds and a C.

‘Mr West tells me your rowing is back on track, but you need to lift your game academically,' says Mr Forrester. ‘Part of being on sporting scholarship here at Harley is to maintain a good average in your studies alongside high achievements in competition. You've slipped from a B average down to … ' He consults a piece of paper. ‘D+. You need to work hard next year to improve overall. The good news? We are here to help. Extra tutoring. Study skills sessions. What do you need, Cristian?'

‘We want our heavyweight star back in the firsts and doing well at school,' says Westie, who seems to be sucking up to me. It doesn't suit him.

All I need is to take off my school uniform, grow a beard and earn some proper money. All I need is to get the hell off Harley's grounds.

‘I dunno, sir,' I say, shrugging. ‘You tell me.'

The final bell does at last ring. Students pile out of every available exit. Carrying art projects and Secret Santa gifts, cellophane bags of shortbread and homemade chocolates. Weighed down with bags full of our year. Part of me wishes I could crawl home, but we have our last row before we get broken apart for summer with our training schedules and a promise to our coaches not to get unfit.

Traditionally it's a ‘fun' session. No tests, heavy weights sessions or soul-destroying runs. Just a cruisey row and a barbecue with the parents and coaches after. When I get down there, all the girls are dressed up in Santa hats and face paint. All the girls, except Leni. I head for her. She seems relatively sane in all this Christmas merriment.

‘Help me?' she asks, throwing over a bundle of tinsel. As captain she now has to be a joiner. Being part of a group doesn't come naturally to Leni. I dump my bags inside the sheds and drape red and green tinsel over the bow of an eight.

‘How'd you do in your exams?' she asks.

‘Don't ask. Don't tell. You?'

‘Same as last year.'

The same means perfect. Leni would freak if she got anything less than ninety-nine. She stresses herself out every year working until 2 to 3 am every night, flogging herself. Then she pulls out a row of top marks.

‘Why are we doing this? Can't we have a normal row?' she says.

I tape a Christmas bauble to a rigger and smile. Leni might find this painful, but I love the fun side of rowing. I miss the junior crews. When we would row hopelessly out of time and no one cared. When we laughed our way up to the start line and it was irrelevant if we won or lost.

I'm jealous of the Year Nines all gangly and unco in their Christmas gear. Mucking around and singing a song together.

Adam walks down to the river, wearing an elf's costume.

Leni looks up, sees Adam and then throws the rest of the tinsel at me to finish up. It's been strained between them. It seems the break-up is final.

‘See you upstairs,' Leni says to both of us.

‘Don't say a bloody word,' Adam warns me as I give his outfit a slow clap. ‘The Year Ten girls forced me to wear it.'

Sam and Leni are choosing random crews for the day and giving us a pep-up speech before summer holidays. Penny is sitting with the firsts. She's got her head down, picking at a thread of cotton on her zootie. Her plait is threaded with silver tinsel and she's got angel wings on. She's a few feet away, but I can smell her. Flowers and coconut. The same as she did the night of the party.

I've backed off but I'd love to ask her where she's going for her holidays. I've heard she's going overseas with her family. If I knew I could look up the maps and photos of exotic countries and imagine her there. I wish it were me leaving. Getting on a plane, wheels pulling off the tarmac.

‘You all have your training diaries so write in them, every day,' says Leni. ‘Stick to your training schedules. Get together if you can. Don't get sucked into lying on the beach doing nothing. Oh, and if anyone needs to borrow an ergo over the summer, speak to Mr West after the row.'

‘A weekend rowing camp will be held 21 to 24 January in Sale,' says Sam. ‘Boat loading is at 7 am sharp here. After that the buses will leave. We will be right into ergos, seat racing and long, training rows. Bring your A game and you'll have a good time. Come with a gut from too much Christmas pudding and you'll suffer.'

Everyone groans. Rowing camp is a festival of muscle aches and early nights.

Sam puts two boxes out on a table. ‘For fun we're going to mix up the crews today. Pick a number from box one and that's your crew. Choose a piece of paper from box two and that's what you have to think about during school holidays.'

I pull out the number five and a piece of paper.

In Leni's writing is the quote: ‘Our greatest weakness lies in giving up. The most certain way to succeed is always to try just one more time.' – Thomas Edison.

Did Leni rig it so I got this piece of paper? Does she know how much I long to give up?

Leni

Adam grabs me before our last row. We haven't spoken since we broke up. Not even a text message. He's good at silence. ‘Leni, can we talk?' he says, pulling me into an empty bay of the shed.

We sit on stretchers, facing each other.

‘I'm sorry I haven't called. I've wanted to, but I think it's better if we get a clean break from each other.'

Part of me was a little hurt Adam hadn't tried to get in contact, even if I didn't want to be his girlfriend anymore.

‘Yeah, that's okay,' I say. ‘You don't want me to text?'

‘Maybe next year. For now, I might just try to move on.'

Adam gets up, gives me a kiss on the cheek. Still no
jtzooum
.

‘Bye, Leni. Merry Christmas.'

‘Bye, Adam. You too.'

I'm rowing with Year Tens, a few guys in the thirds and, naturally, Sam. The universe keeps throwing us together. Thank you, universe. Everyone's wearing Santa hats and costumes. But I refuse to. Rachel is coxing and tries to make me change my mind.

‘Come on, it's Christmas! I'm coxing, for goodness sake. The end of the boat might snap off. Have some fun. Don't be such a grinch.'

‘I don't do silly hats,' I say. ‘And I'm not a grinch.'

Sam and I ferry an armful of oars to the bank. There's so much I want to say to him. So many loose ends. But in an instant we're enveloped by the rest of the crew, chattering, laughing and singing Christmas songs.

‘Hands on!' shouts Rachel.

Sam sits behind me in seven seat. He reaches forward and shoves a hat on my head, before I can protest. Because it's him, I let it sit there. Feeling ridiculous. I set off as I always do – rowing hard and with purpose. No point wasting a session.

‘It's a fun row, Leni!' shouts Laura from the bank. ‘Let's try to keep the rating down okay?'

We row like hacks, the boat tipping wildly and everyone laughing and mucking around. Laura asks us to do a drill where we all swap seats by walking down the sides of the boat. At one point Sam and I swap and he has to crawl over my head, his crotch literally millimetres from my face.

We do some fun races against the other crews, but nobody cares who wins. Nobody, except me.

As we head in, there's a moment where Rachel asks for silence and tells us these are our last thirty strokes for the year.

‘Make every stroke count,' she says.

We roll forward on the balls of our feet. As I lock my blade on the water, I feel seven other bodies, all different shapes, sizes and ages, right there with me. We push together, gliding towards freedom.

All the boats are put away. Later, Dad will tune them up and make sure they're all clean as a whistle and ready for the onslaught of rowing camp. But for now he's turning sausages on a barbecue set up on the balcony. A line-up of hungry boys wait impatiently with plastic plates in their hands. ‘Are they ready yet, Mr Poppa?' asks Tom Kendrick, for the hundredth time.

Dad waves his tongs to shoo him away. ‘Get back locust,' he laughs. ‘Don't rush chef.'

Sam and I have drifted to each other's side, we can't keep away. I'm trying not to show everyone how much I want to be with him. Half listening to my crew's summer plans. Beach houses. Summer internships at magazines. Trips overseas.

They've tried to keep it quiet, but Aiko is having virtually the entire crew down to her parents' farm near Woodend after Christmas. They'll all swim in the dam and share secrets and get even closer to each other and further away from me. Not being with Adam had made my stocks dive at school. I felt it the instant he broke it off.

‘Who wants food?' Dad shouts across the room.

Sam jumps to his feet. ‘Want a vegie burger?' he asks the group. I feel like he's talking just to me.

‘Vegie? No freaking way, mate, give me meat!' says Nick. The boys like to tease Sam for being a vegetarian. It's all part of the Buddhist thing.

‘Yeah, I will,' I say, although eating is the last thing on my mind.

Sam comes back to the group, his hands full.