‘I think you should do it before you go,’ Dad said.
‘But I’m meeting Andy now.’
Dad looked from Nick to me and sighed. ‘Okay, buddy, but be back before dinner. You promise?’
Nick jumped into the room and gave Dad a quick high five before bustling back out the door. ‘You’re the coolest!’ he yelled.
‘So, where were we?’ he asked, turning back to me.
‘I think we were up to brownies,’ I said cheekily.
Dad smiled. ‘Off you go.’
As I left the room, I turned back to Dad. His smile had been replaced with a light frown. I looked away and headed for my bedroom, desperately trying to avoid the disappointment on my dad’s face.
I walked through the kitchen and grabbed a brownie, then continued upstairs to my room. My room was sky blue with a multicoloured bedspread and matching curtains. My desk had a laptop on it and to the left I had a small, flat screen TV. I smiled – none of my friends were allowed TVs in their rooms.
On the wall behind my bed I had posters of my favourite athletes. I gazed at the one directly over my bed. It was a picture of Australian hurdler Sally Pearson winning gold at the 2012 London Olympics. Just imagine. Gold at the Olympics. I sighed.
I sat down at my desk and finished off my brownie while I logged onto my laptop. As the computer booted up, I glanced at the photograph in the frame on my desk. It was me at about three or four years old. I was sitting on my mum’s lap and she was laughing. She had long, thick, strawberry blonde hair which cascaded down her shoulders. I remember thinking she was Rapunzel. She had her arms wrapped around my tiny body. I was holding a balloon and looked ecstatic.
My throat suddenly felt like it was closing up. I coughed slightly and shook my head. I grabbed my drink bottle from beside my bed and took a long gulp. I coughed again, then leant forward and gently placed the photo frame facedown on the desk.
‘Keep your shoulders square, Josie!’
I nodded, frowning in concentration.
‘Start with the knee – start with the knee on your trail leg!’
We were doing our specialty training for the afternoon. I’d had my warm-up with the bigger squad and then we’d broken down into our disciplines. Issy was off doing long-distance training, while Nina and I were doing step-over drills with Coach Jack, the hurdles coach.
Basically, step-over drills meant that the hurdles were bunched in close together and we were going over each one at a fast walking pace. Slowing down the jumping action was a great way to work on our technique.
‘Another round of the trail leg drill!’ Coach Jack called.
The trail leg is the leg that flicks up behind you in a hurdles motion. The lead leg is the one that kicks out first over the hurdle.
‘Good, Josie!’ Coach Jack yelled approvingly as I finished going over the hurdles.
I smiled to myself. This was what I loved about athletics – I was so naturally good at it. It wasn’t like schoolwork, which always felt like a struggle. In lessons, I felt like I was the guy at the back of the race, watching as everyone crossed the line before me. But, on the field I felt free. Dad called me his cheetah, and funnily enough, that’s exactly how I felt when I was running a race. I loved the feeling of the wind whipping my face as I gathered speed. I loved the feeling of floating over the hurdles. Most of all, I loved the feeling of pushing myself over the finish line with nobody in front of me. It made me feel powerful. Graceful. Free.
‘How’d you do in the Maths assessment yesterday, Jose?’ Nina asked. I shook my head lightly as Nina’s question brought me back to reality. I gave her a big thumbs down.
‘Don’t worry, Josie. Exams are still a couple of weeks away.’
‘Did you get 100 per cent?’ I teased. Nina’s face reddened. Even though she was one of the smartest girls in the whole year, she was not arrogant. She never bragged about her academic achievements.
‘No!’ she laughed, gently play-punching me in the arm.
‘Ninety-nine?’ I asked.
‘Josie,’ she protested, smiling.
‘It was ninety-nine, wasn’t it?’ I laughed.
‘No, it was … it was ninety-six,’ she said, embarrassed. I laughed and shook my head.
‘She just beat me to the top … AGAIN!’ sang a voice from behind us. We turned and saw Clara Mason standing behind us. Clara was one of the best runners in the school, and was also really smart, like Nina. However, there was always something about Clara that never sat right with me. She was nice enough, but she had a competitive streak that rivalled even mine. Her style of competition was also pretty cutthroat. Sure, I wasn’t going to let anyone beat me if I could help it, but Clara was different. Last term in a training race, one of the girls fell over right in front of Clara and she literally stepped on her and kept running. It wasn’t as if it was the Olympics – it was training! Everyone else stopped to help, but not Clara. She refused to stop for anyone. Clara wasn’t a mean girl. She was just the most competitive person I had ever met. The sad thing was, because of this, she didn’t have a lot of friends.
‘You did really well though, Clara,’ Nina said kindly. ‘Ninety-four per cent is excellent.’
‘Second place is just first loser,’ she laughed as she flicked back her thick, blonde ponytail.
‘Oh, Clara, don’t be so hard on yourself,’ said Nina.
‘Doesn’t help that my dad is the Head of Mathematics at the school!’ she groaned.
I did feel sorry for Clara. It must have been hard having your dad in charge of the Maths program at the school – always knowing your results and pushing you to be the best. Nothing like my dad.
‘Josie, go!’ Coach Jack yelled. It was my turn again.
‘Well, at least you passed!’ I called over my shoulder to Clara as I set off on my drill.
Clunk!
‘Knee up!’ Coach Jack instructed as I picked up the fallen hurdle. ‘And concentrate!’
I rejoined the line and Clara followed behind me after having her turn. ‘I can’t seem to beat Nina in the classroom and I can’t beat you on the track!’ she laughed, slightly bitterly.
Nina forced a laugh. Clara had a way of making things uncomfortable. All she could ever talk about was who was winning what. It got a bit boring. It’s probably why we weren’t really good friends with her outside of training. She just had a different mindset to us.
One of the coaches from the other squads blew a whistle which signalled it was time to warm-down.
‘Nice work, Josie,’ Coach Jack said as he patted me on the shoulder. ‘You are in such good form, girl!’ His thick American accent made me smile.
‘Thanks. I feel really ready to take the title,’ I breathed excitedly.
‘And I’ve never seen you in better form to do it. Focus, and you’ll get there.’ Coach Jack smiled as he flicked a wisp of his dark fringe away from his face. He was a really great coach. He was pretty young and had come to Australia after competing as a national runner in the US. He demanded the best, but we also got along really well. It was almost like he was a friend.
As we began to stretch, Issy bounded over and joined us.
‘I’m so excited about tomorrow night!’ she squealed.
‘Me too!’ I said. Nina and I were going to Issy’s for a sleepover for her birthday.
‘Have you decided what movie we are going to watch?’ Nina asked.
‘I’m still deciding between comedy and horror. I’m thinking horror! Mwahahaha!’ said Issy, in a ghoulish voice.
‘I hate horror!’ Nina whimpered.
‘Maybe both then!’ I said. ‘And Nina, you can hide under a pillow during the scary movie.’
‘Girls, listen up while you’re stretching,’ one of the coaches called out. All the coaches gathered together in front of us. Coach Jack stepped forwards.
‘So, as you know, the end-of-year State Finals are in just four weeks’ time.’
Everybody started chattering nervously. Coach Jack waved his hands to quieten us d
own so he could continue.
‘This is the big one for the year. You’ve all been training really hard for this, so I want you to keep focused over the next few weeks.’
The long jump coach, Coach Lisa, spoke next. ‘I know a lot of you have exams coming up, and we understand the pressure you are under. It’s super important that you balance your studies with your training as we head into these comps. These finals are state-wide, so you’re up against the best. They will also be a good indicator as to who from this group might make the Nationals after the summer.’
The sprints specialist coach, whom I also worked with for my 100-metre training, stepped to the front. Her name was Coach Sal. ‘Make sure your parents have filled in the permission form for the State Finals and that they register you online. Everything they need to know is in the email I sent out a few days ago. Now, finish your warm-down and then you can go home.’
‘Man, I can’t wait for the State Finals,’ I said. It was my chance to officially lock myself in as the best 100-metre hurdler in the state for my age. Currently, I was in the top position, but this end-of-year competition would make it official.
‘It’s going to be tough,’ Nina said seriously. ‘I don’t know how we are going to fit everything in with exams.’
Issy nodded.
‘Exams shmams,’ I said, lightly waving my hand in the air. ‘Training has got to come first. We have hundreds more exams to sit, but the State Finals will be the competition that launches us to Nationals. That’s way more important.’
Nina frowned, unconvinced.
‘I don’t think my parents would agree with you there!’ Issy laughed.
Issy was a good student. She wasn’t like Nina, but she was solid in her academics. She was very creative and awesome at Art and History, and she was also in the top English class. She found Maths pretty difficult but she just about managed to keep up in the middle class. Her parents weren’t pushy, but they did insist that she do her best in school and sport. That seemed to be the case with most people – except me! No, I was the lucky one. My dad didn’t care about school.
We finished our warm-down and gathered our gear from the change rooms. I waved a tired goodbye to my friends and walked slowly to the nearby train station. My muscles were sore – I’d need to have a good soak in the bath when I got home – and my shins were aching. I scrunched up my nose. Damn shin splints.
I sat quietly on the train ride home, exhausted and thoughtful. There was so much going on this term – the State Finals, exams, the end-of-year party and speech night. My eyes felt heavy just thinking about it.
I strolled home, enjoying the scent of summer on the breeze. It was still light even though it was getting close to dinnertime and the warm spring air surrounded me like a blanket.
As I walked up the path to my house, I stopped and gently sniffed the jasmine flowers. They always made my heart swell – the scent of an imminent summer. The scent of Mum. I opened the door and dropped my bags on the floor in the hallway. I turned towards the kitchen and saw Dad sitting at the breakfast bar, sipping a coffee.
‘How was school, Josie?’
‘Good, but I’m smashed. Training was really long today.’ I poured myself a cold glass of apple juice.
‘I got a call earlier,’ Dad said slowly. ‘A call from school.’
I looked up. His face was creased with concern.
‘It was from the Head of Year 7, Mrs Cooper, is it?’
I nodded.
‘She has organised a meeting for us tomorrow before school.’
‘What about?’ I asked warily.
‘She wouldn’t say. She just said there were some things she needed to discuss with me, and you. She wants you there too.’
‘Did she sound … I dunno … mad or something?’
Dad shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think you’re in trouble, Jose. But she sounded a little … concerned.’
‘Weird,’ I said with a shrug. I gulped down the last sip of juice and wiped my mouth on the back of my hand.
‘Well, anyway, be ready early tomorrow morning. The meeting starts at eight o’clock.’
I nodded as I walked out of the kitchen, heading for my room. A meeting with Mrs Cooper? What was that about? I tried to think if I’d done anything wrong lately. The bright red thirty-eight per cent from my Maths assessment flashed into my mind. I shook my head – it couldn’t be about that, could it? Or maybe it was about sport. I frowned.
Something in my stomach turned and I felt my heart flicker in my chest. I didn’t know for sure what that meeting was going to be about, but something told me it wasn’t going to be good.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
I glanced at the clock on the wall. It seemed to be ticking really loudly. Each tick was like someone was flicking me on the ear. I winced. My knee bounced up and down at a rapid rate. Dad reached over and gently pushed his hand onto my knee, stopping the jittering.
‘It’ll be fine,’ he whispered.
I looked around Mrs Cooper’s office. She had framed degrees hanging on her wall – a teaching degree, a counselling degree, a Masters in something or other. Her white desk was immaculate, with a closed laptop in the centre. She had a framed picture next to it, featuring her, a man who I presumed was her husband, a boy of about ten and a girl about my age. They were sitting clustered together on the beach in matching white T-shirts and jeans. A small dog, probably a poodle, was sitting like a fluff ball at their feet. Mum, Dad, the kids and a dog. The perfect family.
I startled as the door opened with a whoosh and Mrs Cooper came bustling in.
‘Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr Ingram.’ She flicked her curly, dark hair over her shoulder and straightened out her pencil skirt as she sat down in her seat. She pushed her black, framed glasses up her nose and exhaled.
‘Right!’ she said, opening a folder.
I could see my name printed in neat lettering on the top of the folder. Inside were a stack of papers, which she flicked through noisily.
‘Mr Ingram, Josie, I’ve invited you in for a meeting this morning to talk about some concerns I have. Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble, Josie,’ she said smiling.
It did not make me feel better.
‘What concerns?’ Dad asked, trying to hide the tremor in his voice.
‘Well, let’s start with you, Josie. How do you think you are getting on at the Academy?’
I cleared my throat nervously. ‘Well,’ I said slowly, ‘I … I love it here. I can honestly say this has been the best year of my life. The coaches here are amazing. I love my friends. The facilities are mind-blowing. And I’m running faster and better than ever before. Did you know if I win this next …’
‘But,’ Mrs Cooper interrupted, ‘how do you feel you are doing academically?’
So, this is why I was here.
‘I guess I’m not the smartest girl in the year. But I reckon I’m doing okay. I mean, you don’t need 100 per cent in Maths to run in the Olympics!’ I said with a fake laugh. Mrs Cooper didn’t laugh.
‘Josie, I have your reports and exam results here from throughout the year. There’s one thing that is clear, and that is that your grades are declining. You aren’t just struggling with one or two subjects – you are failing almost all of them.’
Silence hung in the room.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
‘What exactly is she failing?’ Dad broke the silence.
‘Well, she’s gone from around the sixty per cent mark in Maths down to the thirties. She didn’t even bother to turn in her latest English assignment and I know for a fact she has an important History presentation on Monday. Have you started that, Josie?’
I swallowed hard, unable to speak.
‘Well, I can probably get her some tutoring if that helps,’ Dad said sheepishly. His face was red and guilty, as if it was his fault.
‘It’s not about tutors, Mr Ingram. It’s about the fact that Josie doesn’t even try.’
‘I do try!’ I protested.<
br />
‘Not bothering to hand in assignments, never completing homework and failing grades does not sound like a girl who is trying, Josie,’ Mrs Cooper said firmly.
I looked down at my hands.
‘You do know that the Academy has rules about keeping up with your academics,’ Mrs Cooper said. ‘It’s stated on your enrolment conditions that you have to maintain a solid academic record in order to represent our school in sport. We don’t allow girls to come here and use sport as an excuse to check out of schoolwork. This is a school.’
‘I can’t help it if I’m dumb!’ I blurted out, tears pricking my eyes.
‘You are not dumb, Josie. The same report is coming from all of your teachers: you lack focus and drive in your studies. You don’t care about schoolwork and you never complete the tasks assigned.’
Dad frowned at me. ‘Josie, why didn’t you tell me this?’
‘Oh, as if you care, Dad! You always say I’m your little cheetah – I’m a runner, not a mathematician!’
Dad shook his head. ‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Cooper. This isn’t Josie’s fault, it’s mine. Ever since her mother … passed away …’
I winced.
‘… I’ve been so focused on making sure Josie and Nick are happy, I haven’t been doing a very good job with the discipline.’
My heart sank for Dad. Fresh tears sprung from my eyes.
‘I understand that you have had things tough over the last few years,’ Mrs Cooper said gently. ‘But it’s for your own good that we help get you back on track academically, Josie. Otherwise progressing to Year 8 next year will not be an option.’
My head whipped up as I met Mrs Cooper’s eyes. Surely she wasn’t suggesting repeating Year 7?
‘So, here is what we do with girls who need to focus on their academics.’ Mrs Cooper pulled out a crisp piece of white paper and began to write down some notes.
‘For the next two weeks, you will only be allowed to attend one sports session per week, on the designated full training day,’ she wrote on the paper as she spoke.
‘One session!’ I cried. ‘No way! I have State Finals in four weeks! I usually train five days a week not one! My coaches won’t allow it.’
Running Free Page 2