by Felice Arena
18. insider
‘All right, settle down, everyone,’ said Principal Stevens, standing on stage in front of the assembly. ‘I am incredibly angry and disappointed. This morning I discovered that someone has broken into my office and removed the Boots of Glory.’
A collective gasp echoed throughout the theatre, followed by mumblings of disbelief and chatter among the students. Specky felt his jaw tighten and his entire body freeze. From the corner of his eye, he could see Tim was equally as shocked. Specky dared not look at him or anyone else, as Principal Stevens was staring directly at his row.
‘Thankfully, they have been returned, but this is still a terrible day for Gosmore Grammar,’ continued Mr Stevens. ‘Breaking and entering is a serious crime and I am determined to find out who did this. And when I do, they will suffer the consequences. You know who you are. Going by the blades of grass wedged in the stops and a new scratch, this person not only took them from their case, but decided to actually use them. I suspect whoever it was had a kick with them.’
Again the grumblings rippled from every row in the theatre. And this time Specky caught Grizza and some of the other boys glaring at him.
After the assembly ended, the whole school was abuzz with talk and speculation about who could have done such a thing. Specky and Tim were beside themselves, especially when at lunchtime they were called to see Principal Stevens again.
‘This time we can’t tell him the truth, Speck, or we’re out,’ pleaded Tim, as they approached the office.
‘We might not have to. He probably knows already. Someone’s ratted on us,’ replied an anguished Specky.
‘Well, if he doesn’t know, we just have to lie this time. Come on, mate. You know I can’t afford to lose this scholarship.’
Specky was so overwhelmed that he couldn’t decide what he would do.
‘Right, sit down, boys,’ ordered Mr Stevens, as Specky and Tim entered his office. ‘I’m going to come right out and say it. Did you two steal the Boots?’
‘No, sir,’ Tim answered without skipping a beat.
‘Simon?’ asked Mr Stevens, noticing that Specky was avoiding eye contact. ‘Simon? Is this true? This wasn’t another initiation stunt for you two?’
Specky looked up and tried his best not to blink or show any sort of expression on his face. He could feel sweat under his armpits and on the palms of his hands. He glanced at Tim and saw the fear in his eyes.
‘Well, Simon, if it’s taking you this long to answer, then you must know something,’ pressed Principal Stevens.
‘Um… no, Sir. I was just thinking about who could’ve done this. But Tim’s right, it wasn’t us.’
Specky coughed, trying to overcome the dryness in his mouth. He couldn’t believe he had just lied. He had told himself he would always be honest, no matter what. He was so close to confessing. But he couldn’t – not this time. Not with Tim sitting right beside him, begging him with the most desperate look.
‘Well, I have to say I’m relieved. And I have to apologise to you two,’ added Principal Stevens.
‘Apologise?’ asked Specky. ‘For what, Sir?’
‘When I received this anonymous letter informing me that someone had taken the Boots, my first thought was that you two might have been responsible.’
Specky kept his eyes fixed on Principal Stevens. He knew if he looked away he’d seem guilty. And he couldn’t help thinking how similar the letter Mr Stevens was holding was to the mysterious notes.
‘After you were so honest with me last time, I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I’m sorry for being so quick to judge you both.’
‘That’s okay,’ Tim replied brashly.
‘Well, good,’ said Principal Stevens. ‘But if you hear anything at all about who has done this, I want you to let me know right away.’
Specky and Tim nodded.
‘Phew, that was close. Thanks, Speck,’ sighed Tim, walking a few steps behind Specky.
Specky didn’t answer. He was marching down the corridor, hurrying to get somewhere.
‘Where are you going?’ asked Tim, moving up beside him.
‘To the dorms,’ Specky answered, picking up the pace.
‘Why?’ asked Tim, confused. ‘We still have twenty minutes of lunchtime left.’
Specky started to run, leaving Tim to follow. When he reached his floor, he headed straight for his bed.
‘Nothing!’ he mouthed, looking underneath the pillow.
‘What are you doing?’ Tim panted, arriving a few moments later.
‘I thought there’d be another one here,’ said Specky, shaking his head.
‘Another what?’ asked Tim, still catching his breath.
‘Another note ! I bet whoever sent that letter to Principal Stevens is the same person who’s been sending me notes.’ Specky looked around his feet and under the bed to check he hadn’t overlooked anything. But there was nothing.
‘I bet this was his way of showing me this isn’t a joke. But I still don’t get why anyone would want to control the way I play.’
Tim was about to comment, but Grizza and eight other boys, including Whispers and Sticks, came shuffling in.
‘Don’t say a thing about the letter or about me getting notes,’ Specky whispered quickly to Tim, glancing at the others.
‘Why?’ asked Tim.
‘’Cause, the only guys who knew we took the Boots of Glory that night were the boarders, and who else could be leaving notes for me here? I reckon whoever’s doing this has to be one of them.’
‘You think it was Grizza?’ asked Tim.
‘I don’t know. But just keep quiet for now.’
‘So, Magee? What did Stevens say?’ asked Grizza, stepping in at the foot of Specky’s bed.
Specky told the boys how they had lied to Principal Stevens.
‘Bloody lucky! That’s all I can say,’ shrugged Grizza. ‘And how dumb were you, putting on the boots? Stevens probably wouldn’t have even noticed they were touched if you hadn’t decided to have a kick with them.’
‘I didn’t think it was a big deal. There was a ball lying about on the oval and I kicked it, that’s all,’ said Specky, wondering if Grizza was the person behind the notes.
‘Yeah, well, like I said, you’re both bloody lucky.’
Later that night, Specky found the note he had been expecting. It was waiting for him after dinner, once again under his pillow. Specky took a deep breath and slowly read it.
I told you not to kick more than three goals. If you disobey me next time, Stevens will find EVERYTHING, and then you can say goodbye to Gosmore and your scholarship.
And if you’re wondering – yes, I have proof. Digital cameras these days are terrific for shooting in the dark. I’ve got some great footage of you wearing the Boots of Glory. So, now that you know I’m serious, you are going to play by my rules, my ROYAL rules.
19. a royal
connection
Specky struggled to fall asleep that evening. It was close to one o’clock and his head was packed with thoughts about the latest note.
So whoever is doing this is connected with Salisbury College, he mused. He turned over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. But then, why would they want me to play the way they want in a match that has nothing to do with Salisbury?
Suddenly, the penny dropped for Specky.
‘That’s it!’ he said out loud, springing up out of bed. Someone here, who’s connected to Salisbury College, is trying to blackmail me into playing the way they want… so I’ll help the Royals win the Boots of Glory game.
Specky dropped back onto his pillow, relieved that he was onto something, but disturbed by what it would all ultimately mean for him. He tried to laugh it off.
Hang on, you big head, he thought. I’m only one guy. No one can expect me to affect the outcome of an entire game just by myself. That’s just…
Again, something dawned on Specky.
But, that’s it. It’s not just me. If whoever’s s
ending these notes is on the team, if two of us are playing to help the Royals, that could definitely have some influence on the game.
At that moment he wished he was back in his own bed at home. Specky shook his head. It had to be one of his new friends on the footy team. But who could it be?
Grizza? He could have a huge effect on the game. And he went to Salisbury for six months. Could all that stuff about him hating being called a Royal be a cover up?
And Whispers – Salisbury was his first school, and if he didn’t fire up during a game, that could also influence the result.
Specky’s mind was working overtime. But then he was distracted by a small bump from the other side of the room. Someone else was awake.
Specky looked up. At the far end of his floor, he saw the silhouette of a skinny figure climbing out a window.
‘And then there’s Sticks!’ he said under his breath. It would explain why he went right off at me when I saw him sneak in last time. So, where are you off to now, Sticks? To Salisbury?
Specky was determined to find out.
By the time Specky got dressed, climbed out the window, and scrambled down the tree, Sticks was long gone.
Great. I’ve lost him, he thought.
Since he was already outside, Specky decided to wander around the campus in the hope that he might catch sight of Sticks somewhere along the way.
Shivering in the cold night air, he aimlessly walked among the school buildings, across a couple of sporting fields and even down the long driveway leading out of the Gosmore grounds. But there was no sign of Sticks. After what seemed like an eternity, he decided to give up the search and head back to the warmth of his bed.
Maybe he did go to Salisbury, he thought. But why? Did he go to report to someone?
As he walked back past the gymnasium, Specky suddenly heard a clanging sound.
He stopped and listened carefully. A few moments later he heard it again.
That’s coming from inside the gym, he thought, quietly making his way over to the building.
Specky crouched beneath one of the windows of the gymnasium, slowly edged his way up the wall and took a peek inside.
‘I don’t believe it!’
It was Sticks – working out in the weights room.
All of the great players were dedicated to improving their game: it was almost an obsession. While AFL players trained super hard, many of them realised that not everything could be achieved in the hours set aside for training. So they often took it upon themselves to do the extra work in their own time. They used the philosophy that if they could get up earlier, or train on a Sunday, when other players were resting, it would give them an advantage at game time.
As Specky watched his friend doing a set of bench presses, he regretted that he had suspected him.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Arrrgghhh,’ yelled Specky, jumping back from the window.
It was Tim.
‘Man, you scared the hell out of me! What are you doing here?’ huffed Specky, startled to see his mate standing behind him.
‘I couldn’t sleep ’cause I’m worried that Stevens is going to find out that we stole the Boots and then we’re stuffed and…’ Tim was rambling, ‘… and anyway, I saw you sneak out and I wanted to find out what you’re up to. So, what are you doing?’
Specky hadn’t told Tim about the latest note. He had held back because he didn’t want to freak Tim out even more. And Specky had wanted to do a little detective work on his own.
‘What are you two doing here?’
‘ARRRGGHHH!’ yelled Specky and Tim, startled again.
It was Sticks.
‘This isn’t good for my heart,’ gasped Specky.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Sticks demanded, looking cheesed off.
‘We should be asking you that question,’ said Specky. ‘Why are you working out in the middle of the night?’
‘You wouldn’t understand,’ Sticks mumbled, dropping his head.
‘Try us,’ said Tim.
‘Yeah, c’mon, mate,’ added Specky. ‘Is this where you’d been that night I caught you sneaking back in?’
Sticks nodded.
‘But why? You don’t need to work out,’ said Specky.
‘That’s easy for you to say. You’re not built like a twig,’ snapped Sticks. ‘And I don’t see anyone stirring you about your body. I hate my build! I hate my nickname!’
Specky caught Tim pulling a face as if to say ‘Woah, he’s losing it’.
‘Um,’ stumbled Specky. ‘You shouldn’t get hung up on it. Look, we’re all still growing. You’ll fill out one day. Look at Nick Riewoldt. He was skinny as when he started playing AFL. And what about all the other legends in the game? They weren’t all built like Mack trucks.’
While some weight training is always an essential part of a player’s preparation, Specky’s coaches had always reminded the team that young footballers are still going through a growth period. It can be dangerous for young players to start on an intense weights program while their bones and muscles are still developing. But although trying to lift heavy weights was not advised, using their own body weight for things like push-ups, chin-ups and sit-ups was an ideal way to develop body strength.
Specky also worried about Sticks working out alone. Even professional athletes always trained with at least one other person acting as a ‘spotter’ – someone to assist if the weights were too heavy and they were to get into a little bit of trouble. And for young players it would be especially important to have someone qualified to help them maintain the correct technique when going about the different exercises.
‘Like who?’ asked Sticks.
‘Well there’s James Hird and Shane Crawford. They’re not big blokes and they’re superstars,’ replied Specky.
‘And look at Luke Ball and Luke Power. They don’t have a lot of meat on them and they’re stars too,’ added Tim.
‘Yeah, I s’pose you’re right,’ sighed Sticks. ‘It’s just bloody Grizza stirring me all the time.’
‘He’s always out to stir things up – that’s what he lives for,’ exclaimed Tim.
It turned out that for the past month Sticks had been sneaking out in the middle of the night and entering the gym through a window he’d leave unlocked during the day. He agreed to talk to the coach and to lay off the extra weight work in the meantime, and headed back with them to the dormitory.
It had been an eventful night.
‘So Magee, heard the news?’
It was Grizza, just back from the morning run that Coach Farrell had organised for the Boots of Glory team. Specky had slept in!
‘What news?’ he yawned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
‘Coach Farrell told us this morning we’ll be playing in the Diadora Cup season again. And guess who we play against in our first match?’
‘Who?’
Specky looked up at Grizza’s sweaty, but smug face.
‘Your old school. Poo-yong High!’
20. thoughts in full stride
Over the next week and a half, Specky started to look at all his team-mates with suspicion.
He didn’t think that the Salisbury insider would write another note until closer to the Boots of Glory match, but he promised himself he would do anything possible to find out who the culprit was before that.
At one training session, Specky watched Whispers and Grizza closely. A professional photographer had been asked to take the team’s picture for the Boots of Glory program and the school yearbook.
‘Right, can I have the captain and vice captain only, please?’ instructed the photographer, standing in the centre of Regent Oval.
Decked out in their full footy uniforms, the boys shuffled into place.
‘Stand up straight,’ ordered Coach Farrell. ‘If we win the Boots of Glory, this picture will also be included in a new book the Gosmore alumni committee is putting together, called Gosmore Winners. So you’ll be immortalised in the history
books.’
‘Awesome! How unreal would that be?’ grinned Whispers.
‘Yeah, whatever,’ grunted Grizza.
Hmm, thought Specky. If Whispers wanted Salisbury to win, he wouldn’t be this excited about being a part of Gosmore’s history. Would he?
Specky felt certain that Grizza, who obviously hadn’t cared less about having his picture taken, was the main suspect.
Once the photographer had finished taking his shots, Coach Farrell asked the boys to gather around him. He gave them details about the forthcoming Diadora Cup match against Booyong High. This year they were to play Booyong at their home ground. Some of the boys watched for Specky’s reaction.
But Specky made a real effort not to give anything away, even though his stomach churned at the thought of going back to play against his old friends.
‘And one more thing, before I let you go,’ announced Coach Farrell. ‘An official umpire from the VFL has been selected to overlook the Boots of Glory game. But this year both Salisbury and Gosmore have decided that we’ll be adding a new aspect to the match. One student from each side will get the chance to umpire ten minutes each during the game – under the supervision of the main umpire. And I’m happy to say that our student umpire representative will be Alistair Singleton.’
The boys clapped as Worm made his way through to the front of the group.
‘Alistair has known for a while, but wasn’t allowed to say anything until now, until the main umpire for the game was officially named,’ smiled Coach Farrell, patting Worm on the back.
Specky had a flash of Worm telling him about his book-club meetings at Salisbury College.
Could it be Worm? Could he be the insider? It’s always the quiet ones in those mystery movies, Specky thought. The one you never suspect. As an umpire, he could definitely call the game in the Royals’ favour.
Just as Specky had been about to pin it all on Grizza, this new information about Worm threw a spanner in the works. Finding out the identity of the insider was going to take a lot longer than he had thought.