Step Up and Dance

by Thalia Kalipsakis

  ‘Okay. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.’ My voice sounded surprisingly calm.

  A stunned look from Dad. Mum turned from the sandwich maker to peer at me.

  ‘I’m going to bed now.’ A kiss on two foreheads. A calm exit from the room. Because I knew I had won.

  A child? A child would pout and cry and argue back. A child would storm into her room and slam the door. A child wouldn’t apologise like I had.

  Feeling numb, I stood in front of my mirror, staring at my face. I felt like the little tot who had marvelled at her own legs in tights. My face was thinner these days, and wiser. At the Magic games I pass for eighteen.

  Into bed I climbed – slow and calm – because I knew I had won. I wasn’t a child. After tonight, I wasn’t Dad’s little girl anymore.

  CHAPTER 6

  ‘Go Saph! Go Saph! Go Saph!’

  On Wednesday lunchtime, I headed for the basketball courts with my own personal cheerleader by my side. Summer was eating a hotdog and chanting with her mouth full – a tad disgusting. But Summer seems to get away with things like that.

  I was in full freak-out mode. Last week the idea of playing basketball seemed almost fitting. (Basketball, eh? I’d show them how to play basketball!) But today it felt about as good an idea as flirting with someone in the crowd while trying to dance. This was surely going to end in another beetroot moment.

  I stopped at the edge of the court. ‘Omigod, save me, Summer.’

  Three gigantic Year 11 girls were running in circles around the court, throwing and catching with ease. The ball made a dull thudding sound in their hands. I knew two of the other girls from my year level – both of them dreamed of playing for the WNBL. Faith was pretty cool, but Brooke was one of those aggressive sporty girls. The kind who eats cheerleaders for breakfast.

  Summer flicked her hair and giggled. ‘Go get ’em, Saph!’

  ‘You don’t have to watch this,’ I said, feeling slightly sick and still not moving from the side of the basketball court.

  ‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world!’ Summer headed for a bench and settled in as if she was sitting down at the movies.

  I watched the girls and sighed. Was I really going to do this?

  We were at the end of a set of three basketball courts. The middle one was pretty much empty. But on the other end court I could see two people playing one-on-one. One was short and stocky. But the other had long limbs and a red cap – the uniform of the enemy. And if I could see Jay, then he could see me . . .

  Yep, I really was going to do this.

  ‘Hi, Saph,’ called Mr Sandown and ticked something on his clipboard. ‘Fall into line and copy the others.’

  With a premature beetrooty feeling in my cheeks, I skipped daintily into line behind Faith.

  She glanced down at me. (Faith’s really tall.) ‘What’s this all about? Do you have a crush on one of the basketballers or something?’

  ‘More like “or something”,’ I said, and raised my eyebrows.

  But at least Faith had spoken to me. The others just frowned in my general direction as if to say who invited the bimbo?

  In front of me, Faith caught the ball, dribbled, then passed to another player.

  I ran forward. Okay, let’s do it.

  As the Year 11 girl dribbled forward, I waited and held out my arms. Time for a bit of catchy . . .

  Whoosh! Before I knew it, a cannonball was flying straight for me. I lunged and reached.

  Thwack. The cannonball hit me hard in the chest. My left breast to be exact. The ball fell at my feet and rolled away.

  ‘Eyes on the ball, Saph,’ called Mr Sandown.

  But I wasn’t in any position to take advice. I was leaning forward clutching my chest with both arms, and moaning. My eyes were watering. Now I knew why Brooke was so grumpy all the time. Playing sport was painful.

  ‘You okay?’ Faith had her hand on my back.

  I stood up and nodded, eyes still watering.

  ‘You’ll be right. Keep at it,’ she said, and ran back into line.

  I blew my fringe off my forehead and glanced at the end basketball court. By now it was crowded with bodies – busy with balls and movement. A ball arced up in the air and bodies leapt to grab it. But I couldn’t see a red hat among them.

  Then I looked over at Summer. She was sitting with her knees hugged to her chest, hiding her mouth. But I could see her shoulders shake as she tried to smother a laugh. Summer was enjoying this a lot more than I was.

  Dribbling was pretty much impossible. The first time I tried, I almost fell over. Up bounced the ball, forward moved my body, and my legs crashed into the ball. Who decided it was a good idea to run and bounce a ball at the same time?

  ‘Long bounces, Saph. Keep trying!’ called Mr Sandown.

  But it was pretty much hopeless from there on in. By the time the team started playing a practice game, I was standing on the sidelines, stepping backwards whenever the ball came near me. Throwing around a loose cannonball was not my idea of fun.

  At one point, Faith ran up beside me. ‘Have you made your point today? Or are you coming back again for more?’

  I did a groaning kind of laugh and shook my head. ‘Don’t think I’m made of the right stuff.’

  Faith started to speak, then she trailed off to watch the play. Brooke charged past two Year Elevens, dodging and dribbling, then threw a clean three-pointer.

  ‘I’ll never be like that,’ I said and flicked my hand at Brooke, trying not to be too dainty. ‘She’s amazing.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe …’ said Faith uncertainly.

  ‘Maybe what?’ I could sense her wanting to say more.

  Mr Sandown threw the ball up and players started scrambling for it.

  I nudged Faith on the hip. ‘Come on! Out with it.’

  She leaned in to me, talking low. ‘The way Brooke plays, it’s all about her, you know? She’ll try to score when she should pass to another player.’ Faith kicked at the court with an old runner. ‘I reckon she cost us the grand final last year.’

  We were quiet, staring at the movement of arms, legs and ball.

  Faith looked at me carefully. ‘You don’t seem selfish like that,’ she nodded at the play. ‘I’ll help you with the ball skills …’

  I shook my head. ‘Thanks, Faith. But . . . no thanks. I don’t think basketball’s my cup of tea.’

  But I couldn’t help smiling at the idea of Faith trying to coach me to throw a cannonball.

  After that I sat on the bench alone and watched the rest of practice. Summer had wandered off to talk to the drama group, and Mr Sandown pretty much ignored me for the second half of lunchtime. But there was something about the play that held me there, making me see the game in a new way.

  Faith was a solid player. She didn’t score much, but she had a natural instinct with the ball – a way of being where it was about to fall and knowing where the other players were about to throw. She was everywhere the ball was, in a way that I wouldn’t have noticed before. I started to see how she really might reach her dream and play professional basketball.

  It wasn’t until the end of lunch when I started heading back up the hill from the basketball courts that I ran into Jay. He was sitting on a shady bench, bony elbows resting on knobbly knees.

  Before I could stop them, my eyebrows raised automatically in an oh there you are kind of way. I quickly smothered that look in a gulp, but I didn’t turn away.

  Jay stood – slow and stiff as if he had been sitting for a while – and started clapping with a big goofy grin on his face.

  Great. He must have been watching all lunchtime.

  I ignored the beetrooty feel in my cheeks and did a gracious curtsey. (Ball in the boob? Clumsy tripping and dribbling? All that had just been for a laugh.)

  ‘I knew you’d have a go, Saph,’ Jay said. Still grinning.

  ‘Yeah?’ I put my hand on my waist and pushed a hip out. ‘You didn’t think I’d fake my way out of it?’

  ‘You
can be real when you want to be, Saph. That’s why it’s so annoying when you get sucked in by all the other stuff.’

  I could feel the beetroot deepening so I rushed on. ‘Well, it’s your turn now. I can lend you the pompoms but you’ll have to find your own tights.’

  When I said that, Jay got a funny flushed look on his face that made me laugh.

  ‘Anyway, the girls are really good,’ I said, trying to sound like I knew what I was talking about. ‘Faith’s a natural with the ball, you know?’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ said Jay nodding slowly, with a serious look in his eye.

  Then the bell rang and I found myself walking next to Jay up to the classrooms, talking about teamwork and tactics.

  At my locker I stopped, but kept talking. ‘So, players like Faith hold the whole team together,’ I finished.

  Jay nodded slowly. Then he stood there, looking at me. My skin tingled.

  ‘You should come and watch us train,’ he said, without shifting his gaze. ‘Bannockburn Bats. Tomorrow night, seven-thirty, at the Sports Centre.’

  ‘What?’ I crossed my arms and pushed out my hip again. ‘So you can put a whoopee cushion on my seat or use my head instead of a ball? I don’t think so.’

  ‘No, I mean it,’ Jay said, eyebrows high and face earnest. ‘You should come, Saph.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I said carelessly, and turned to my locker.

  For the rest of the day, I couldn’t get Jay’s voice out of my head. You should come, Saph. There was something about the way he had said my name that made me want to hear him say it again.

  ‘It’s another trick,’ said Summer at the bus stop after school.

  ‘Yeah, probably …’ But I didn’t want it to be.

  ‘Anyway, he’s got you twice.’ She lifted a finger as she listed each trick. ‘The letter and putting your name down for basketball.’ Then she held up her thumb on the other hand. ‘And you only got him with the rose.’ She rubbed her hands together. ‘You’ve totally got to get him back again. Can we swap his deodorant with something . . . like dog poo?’

  I rolled my eyes, and put on my super-sophisticated-Saph voice. ‘We’re a bit classier than that, aren’t we, darling?’

  ‘HEY girls!’ From behind me I heard Zoe’s high squealy voice.

  ‘Hey, Zoe,’ said Summer with a forced smile.

  Zoe bounced up and handed out two mauve envelopes. ‘I’m having the biggest party ever!’ she squealed. ‘Saturday the fourteenth. Everyone will be there …’

  I took my envelope but didn’t open it. I was having Valentine’s Day flashbacks. Bleugh. ‘Thanks, Zoe. But I might have to do cheerleading that night.’

  ‘Oh.’ Zoe pouted and dropped her head – disappointed for real.

  ‘But if Magic misses out of the semi-finals, I’ll be there!’ I nodded eagerly. Missing out on parties, even Zoe’s ones, was a bummer side to dancing.

  ‘And if Magic’s out of the semis, I’ll be there too!’ said Summer and flashed another tight smile.

  ‘Fingers crossed!’ squealed Zoe, and then bounded away waving her envelopes in the air.

  We watched her go. ‘Zoe was all gaga about Jay last week,’ I said quietly so Zoe couldn’t hear.

  ‘Really!’ Summer raised her eyebrows and did some smoochy air kisses. ‘Maybe we could do something with that.’ Then she scrunched up her nose. ‘Maybe not …’ We were quiet for a while.

  ‘Who does Jay like?’ Summer said eventually.

  ‘No idea,’ I said and shielded my face from the sun as Summer’s bus turned the corner. Who did he like? ‘Probably the only thing he loves is basketball …’

  ‘Yeah? That’s it then! Go and watch him play.’ Summer nudged me. ‘The best way to get your enemy is to find out what really makes him tick.’

  I laughed and shook my head. ‘Remind me never to get on your bad side, okay?’

  Summer winked, slung her bag over her shoulder and started for the bus.

  ‘Will you come and watch with me?’ I called. ‘Tomorrow night at seven-thirty.’

  Summer stopped, turned and made a vomit face. ‘Nah, been seeing too much basketball lately. There was this player at lunchtime . . . made my eyes water just watching her!’

  ‘Oh, shut up.’

  Then Summer ran back and kissed me on the cheek. ‘Of course I’ll come, my darling!’ she said as super-sophisticated Summer.

  ‘Summer, you’re a doll!’

  Then I headed up the street for my bus stop, glad to have Summer coming with me tomorrow night, especially if it turned out to be a trick after all.

  Was Jay up to something? I wasn’t sure. Somehow the serious Jay and the prankster Jay just didn’t seem to mesh. I couldn’t work him out. Sometimes he seemed like my friend. But the kinds of tricks he played had an uncanny ability to turn me into a beetroot. That was the work of an enemy.

  ‘What’s with the sunglasses?’

  On Thursday night, Summer met me outside the sports stadium looking like one of Charlie’s Angels: high heels, short skirt, short coat . . . and sunglasses. She pushed one arm of the glasses down behind her ear so that they popped up over her eyes. ‘We’re on a spy mission, aren’t we?’ An evening breeze caught her hair, making her look like a Hollywood starlet.

  ‘Um . . .’ I scratched my head, watching a car drive up, and two teenage guys tumble out and run for the side doors.

  Already this was feeling weird. Jay’s invitation had seemed almost normal at school, in the context of all that basketball talk. But now I felt out of place before we’d even gone inside. Were we walking into another practical joke?

  ‘I’ve got provisions too,’ said Summer. She started pulling things out of her bag. First, an electronic organiser. ‘For recording our observations.’ Next, her mobile. ‘In case we get separated.’ A jumbo bag of jellybeans. ‘To keep up our energy levels.’ A torch. ‘For if we sneak into the coach’s office . . .’

  ‘Summer!’ My eyes were wide and I shook my head.

  ‘Bit much, you think?’ Summer said, cramming it all back in.

  ‘I’m just glad you’re here,’ I said, looking at my watch. Our parents thought we were researching a project for school, which was sort of close to the truth.

  It felt strange sitting in the stands, watching the action on the court. Normally I’d be down there, in full view of everyone. But now we were way up in the stands and almost out of sight. It felt good to be able to relax and look around. I could see the Bats, but they couldn’t see me. Well, not if they had their eyes on the ball!

  For a while I let jock-land wash over me – the squeak of basketball boots on the polished floor, the neat lines and curves of the free-throw lane and three-point circle, the bodies already red with effort.

  Jay was easy to spot – taller and more agile than the rest. He seemed older than the others too, not just in height, but also in the way his body moved. It was clear that the team looked up to him – straining and panting when Jay asked for extra effort, or smiling when he said something good.

  The coach kept calling to Jay too. Jay would run over, and he and the coach would stand together on the sideline, pointing to team members and parts of the court.

  ‘Why do they bother to make black jellybeans?’ said Summer, frowning into her jumbo bag. ‘I mean, who likes black jellybeans?’

  ‘Some people do,’ I said, and picked up the organiser from Summer’s lap. ‘My dad loves ’em.’

  ‘Well here . . .’ One by one Summer picked out the black jellybeans and dropped them into my lap. ‘Tell him they’re a gift from me.’

  I popped a jellybean into my mouth and read the ‘research’ that Summer had scribbled on the organiser. It started out with stuff that she thought we could use to humiliate Jay:

  skinny legs,

  knobbly knees,

  daggy clothes.

  But then she had clearly got sidetracked:

  cute coach (true, but not helpful)

  dumb game. (Summer wasn’t exactly in
tune with the enemy.)

  I leaned forward, resting my forearms on my knees, trying to absorb everything I saw. Summer was bored because she didn’t understand the game (like when she steals my German homework and laughs about Dumkopf and Sauerkraut). A week ago I would have been the same, but it was as though my lunchtime basketball attempt, and my conversation with Jay, had given me a dictionary of vocab that helped me find meaning in the game.

  And now that I had my dictionary, I was super-impressed. Those boys sure could catch. And dribble, and pass the ball . . . and even shoot baskets.

  Whack went the cannonball moving through their hands, like a dot-to-dot ending at the basket. They made it look easy.

  Jay’s style of play was like Faith’s in some ways, central and consistent – the glue holding the team together. He would move in fast, do his bit with the ball, and then coax and encourage the others.

  At one point, one of his friends pointed up to me and Summer, nudging Jay in the ribs as he did. For a moment, Jay stood on the centre circle, staring up at us while the ball flew over his head and bodies flocked around him. Then he started moving again, or trying to. Suddenly, Jay seemed younger – gangly and awkward as if he wasn’t used to the length of his own arms or the size of his huge feet.

  ‘You know what I think?’ Summer leaned forwards to match how I was sitting. ‘I think Jay’s in loooooove …’

  ‘Really?’ I looked at her, then looked away, feeling weird and self-conscious. ‘In love with who?’

  For a moment Summer peered into my eyes – her head was tilted, forehead kinked. Then she looked away and laughed. ‘In love with that dumb game.’

  ‘Oh …’ I sat back in my chair, feeling strangely relieved. By now Jay was charging down the court, homing in on the ball with desperate determination as if it were the only thing of value in the world. I could almost see the smoke coming out of his ears.

  ‘I’ve got it, Saph, the perfect revenge! All we have to do is write him a letter saying he’s been accepted at some big US club, or whatever they call it,’ Summer grinned at me. ‘That would really get him.’