‘Take Jade with you then,’ says Mum, but I answer quickly, ‘She’s reading. You don’t want to come, do you, Jade?’ and my sister, on the sofa where’s she’s stretched out with a book, predictably shakes her head.
‘See you later,’ I say and I’m out of the door and away down the hill before my mum can object further. I resist the temptation to check my appearance in the ladies’ loos; no need any more, I must look sufficiently boyish because I’ve got away with masquerading as one for long enough. As I enter the park I can see most of the lads already assembled on the big patch of grass between the trees and my heart beats faster. There’s about fourteen of us now. I can’t wait to play.
Today Ryan’s Uncle Terry is watching us carefully. He’s been brilliant, helping us to register the team for the league and coaching us each week. He used to play for West Park Wanderers and he’s really good. At the end of play today he’s going to select the team for our first proper game as Blackett Juniors in two weeks’ time.
He divides us into two teams and we get straight in. A pass from Lofty gives me possession of the ball and though Ryan bears down on me I outwit first him, then Nathan. A flick to Vikram and he takes a shot at goal (two hoodies, required distance apart) only to be foiled by Sean who flings his body across to save it. We don’t let up though and by half-time it’s three–nil and I’ve scored two of them. Terry gives me the thumbs-up. This is ace.
I’m getting my breath back and enjoying a swig of water from Ryan’s bottle when suddenly I freeze. Strolling along the path, not twenty metres away from me, are my mum and Gran, with my sister trailing behind them. They walk straight past us, deep in conversation, but Jade looks up and our eyes meet. She comes to a stop and opens her mouth to say something. I put my finger to my lips and shake my head, my eyes pleading. She darts a look at Mum and Gran and back to me and nods, then hurries on after them.
‘Who’s that?’ asks Ryan who’s witnessed it all.
‘My sister.’
‘What’s with all the secrecy?’
‘I’m not supposed to be playing football,’ I say shortly. ‘I didn’t want her to tell my mum.’
‘Why not?’
‘Don’t ask,’ I mutter and wander away from his questions till we’re ready to start the second half. Terry swaps in some people who didn’t get a game in the first half but I get to stay on. I wish I hadn’t, I’m rubbish. I’m shaken to the core by the close shave I’ve just had and my concentration is shot to pieces as I keep an eye out for Mum and Gran in case they walk back. There’s no sign of them though and in the end we scrape a win, four–three, no thanks to me.
‘Right then, lads, over here,’ calls Terry, and everyone runs to him obediently, eager to find out if they’ve made the team. I know I haven’t. I’ve blown it by my performance in the second half. Terry’s next words confirm my fears.
‘What happened to you, Danny?’
‘Dunno,’ I say glumly. ‘Think I just got tired.’
‘Hmm.’ Terry shakes his head and Ryan looks as disappointed as I do.
Maybe it was for the best. I was never going to be able to keep up this charade for long. I just hope I don’t cry when my name is left off the list.
But it’s not. To my huge surprise Terry reads my name out and I’m so thrilled I want to scream or hug someone or do a crazy dance.
But of course I don’t, because that would kind of give the game away, wouldn’t it?
Chapter 11
On Monday morning Lissa strolls into class, digs her hand into her bag and pulls out a pile of pale pink envelopes.
‘One for you, one for you, one for you …’ she says, doling them out to Ali, Tash and me.
‘What is it?’
‘Open it and see.’
Tash tears open the envelope and pulls out a pretty pink card with a cupcake on it. ‘PARTY!’ she squeals in delight. Lots of heads turn our way including the Barbies’.
‘Is it your birthday, Liss?’ asks Chantelle sweetly.
‘Certainly is,’ says Lissa. ‘I’ll be twelve. I’m ancient compared to most of you lot.’
‘You’re ancient compared to me. I’m not twelve till next July,’ I agree and examine the card. ‘Trust you to have a cake on the front.’
‘Mine’s next month,’ says Georgia. ‘I’m having a party too. You’re invited, Lissa.’
Lissa ignores her and waves an invite in front of Tori’s nose. ‘Wanna come?’
‘Yes please!’
‘When is it?’ asks Zadie, but Lissa doesn’t appear to hear her.
‘Here’s yours, Ella.’
‘Thanks!’
‘And yours, Nisha.’
‘Thanks, Lissa!’
‘And one for you two.’ She drops an invite on the table in front of the two clones, Chloe and Emma (known as Chlemma because they’re always together).
‘Thank you!’ they chorus.
‘When did you say your birthday was?’ repeats Georgia.
‘A week Saturday.’
My heart misses a beat. ‘A week Saturday?’
‘Yep. But the party’s this Friday evening. It fits in better for my mum.’
Phew! ‘Cool,’ I say. ‘Can’t wait.’
‘Dress code optional,’ she adds. ‘Or in your case, trouser code.’
‘Ha ha!’ I pull my funny face at her, the one where I cross my eyes and stick my tongue out of the side of my mouth and she pulls it back at me.
‘By the way,’ she says to Ali. ‘It’s OK to bring Austen along.’
‘Really?’ says Ali, looking surprised but pleased. ‘OK, I’ll ask him.’
‘And bring Ajay too if you want, Tash,’ she says, like it’s an afterthought.
I roll my eyes.
‘What?’ she says.
‘You are soooo obvious.’ I can’t believe she’s still carrying a torch for Ajay.
‘He’s Tash’s boyfriend, not mine!’ she says, laughing.
‘He’s not my boyfriend!’ says Tash automatically.
‘That’s all right then, he’s up for grabs!’ retorts Lissa. Then, as she sees the look of alarm on Tash’s face, she adds kindly, ‘I’m only teasing. We all know he’s crazy about you. Tell him to bring a good-looking mate for me instead. Here, give him an invite. There’s plenty more where these came from.’
Georgia sidles up to her. ‘So, um, Lissa? What time did you say the party started?’ Behind her, Chantelle and Zadie smile at us ingratiatingly.
Lissa turns to face them. ‘I didn’t.’ She makes a deliberate show of tucking the remaining envelopes away in her bag. ‘Sorry, girls, I’ve run out of invites.’
Georgia looks furious, while Zadie and Chantelle immediately start squawking things like ‘Cheek!’ and ‘I never wanted to go anyway!’ and ‘Who wants to go to her house? She’s a snob!’ They sound like a pair of demented chickens and I can’t help laughing out loud. It’s pretty mean of Lissa but they deserve it. The Barbies are trouble-makers, all three of them, and full of gossip. Like the rumour they spread about Tash’s mum. They get away with it because everyone’s afraid of getting on the wrong side of them.
Except for Lissa. She’s not afraid of them. Good old Lissa.
‘What are you laughing at?’ Georgia snaps at me suddenly.
‘Nothing!’ I say and she flounces off. Typical! Lissa’s rattled her cage but it’s me she’s having a go at.
So? I’m not scared of Georgia and her cronies either. It was me that called them the Barbies in th
e first place because they’re empty-headed dolls that all look the same. They can’t do anything to me.
The Barbies are the least of my worries.
Chapter 12
I am going to be super-fit!
Either that or I’m training myself into an early grave! It’s not just football training on Saturdays, it’s hockey practice at school. Every day!
Mrs Waters has had me out on that mucky field practising skills all this week, both lunchtimes and after school. Can’t wait for the all-weather pitch! It couldn’t have been worse weather and the ground is really soggy, but she won’t let up. She’s determined to see if I’m up to the standard for Junior Development training.
Tash says I’m Mrs Water’s protégée. It’s a French word (another one – move over, Madame Dupré!), meaning I’m her special discovery who she wants to make as good as her or even better. Tash’s vocabulary is amazing. I hope I do get to be as good as my teacher at hockey one day. It’s a great game, though not as good as football of course.
Lissa and Tash and Ali have turned out with me too. Tash can’t make every after-school practice because sometimes she has to pick up her little brother Keneil from nursery but she comes when she can and she makes all the lunchtime sessions. Ali comes to everything, even though she’s not even in the Year Seven team, and so does Lissa. I think Lissa’s still hoping that Mrs Waters will put her in for training too.
Georgia doesn’t come at all, even though she is in the team.
‘She’s a good player but if it’s not about her she doesn’t want to know,’ remarks Lissa as we shower and change at the end of after-school practice on Thursday. Actually, that’s what I used to think Lissa was like but she isn’t when you get to know her, she’s just competitive.
‘You can’t be like that if you’re a member of a team, you’ve got to pull your weight,’ I say, rubbing my hair dry.
‘I reckon she’s still sulking because Lissa didn’t invite her to her party,’ says Tash. ‘Oohh, I can’t wait for tomorrow!’
Tomorrow night, Ali, Tash and I are going straight to Lissa’s after school and getting ready there. I can’t wait to see Lissa’s house; Ali’s the only one of us who’s been there and she says it’s awesome.
‘I still don’t know what to wear,’ says Tash and we all groan. She changes her mind every day. ‘No, really,’ she protests, ‘I can’t choose between my little white lace dress which I wear absolutely everywhere –’
‘I’ve never even seen you in a little white lace dress,’ I say, but she ignores me.
‘– or my skinniest jeans with a vest top and fur waistcoat combo –’
‘Fur!’ shrieks Ali. ‘You can’t wear fur!’
‘It’s not real fur!’
‘That’s not the point. So long as you wear it, whether it’s fake or not, you’re signalling to people that it’s OK to kill animals for their pelts –’
‘For their what?’ interrupts Lissa.
‘Their pelts. Their coats. The only creature that should wear a leopard-skin coat is a leopard.’
‘It’s not leopard skin.’
‘What is it then?’
‘I don’t know, it’s just fur.’
‘See? You don’t even care enough to know what animal has been killed to make your waistcoat.’
‘Aargh! No animal has been killed, it’s fake!’
The two best friends glare at each other: quiet, gentle Ali, whose alter ego is fierce environmental campaigner, and Tash, who, beneath her superficial, fun-loving exterior is actually kind and thoughtful.
‘OK,’ concedes Tash, ‘I’ll wear my little white lace dress again,’ and Ali flings her arms round her.
‘I LOVE that little white lace dress.’
Lissa rolls her eyes. ‘That’s decided then. Now, what are you wearing, Dani?’
But she doesn’t wait for a reply because she’s joking. Everyone knows I’m not into fashion.
I’ll just be tomboy Dani in my jeans and T-shirt.
Chapter 13
Friday lunchtime, before we go to Lissa’s, we do another hockey practice. With the bad weather we’ve had all week, the ground is like a bog. By the time our PE teacher has finished with us we’re soaked through and filthy dirty. I can’t tell you how many times we slip and fall on our backsides in the mud but she won’t let up till the bell goes for afternoon school. Sadist!
There’s no time to shower so when we change we get mud all over our uniforms. All afternoon we have to sit in lessons listening to the Barbies making witty comments (not!) like: ‘Pooh!’ ‘It stinks in here!’ ‘It’s like a pig-sty,’ ‘Who let the dogs out?’ and the slightly more droll ‘Good body hygiene is soooo important, don’t you think?’ from Georgia who always smells like the perfume counter at Boots.
So I say, ‘Didn’t you know, Georgia? Mud is good for the complexion; you should try it,’ which is a bit mean because she just happens to have a rather prominent zit on her nose. It raises a laugh and makes up for us having to sit there all afternoon, mucky, damp and cold.
‘Never mind,’ says Lissa when we finally get out of school. ‘You can all have a nice bath or shower when you get to my house,’ and we cheer up.
From outside Lissa’s house looks tall and posh. Like her. It’s one of those Georgian houses that has a little front garden with pots of miniature ornamental trees and spiked railings. The windows are divided into small panes and the front door is black and solid with a shiny brass knocker and you know that absolutely no one would ever be allowed through it except by invitation only.
The door swings open and Mrs Hamilton is standing there. She must’ve been waiting for us.
‘Come in! Come in!’ she says, and even though she’s smiling it’s more like an order than an invitation. We shuffle in obediently, taking our shoes off in the hallway like Lissa does.
Inside it’s A-MAZ-ING! Ali had said it was like a house in a magazine, the ones you get in the doctor’s surgery, and it really is. It’s all carpets and soft lights and expensive furniture. There are floor-to-ceiling bookcases and a piano and soft sofas and a huge table in the dining room with matching chairs, and flowers everywhere. Everything is immaculate.
Lissa’s mum offers us drinks and there’s a choice of fresh juices or a variety of teas, most I’ve never heard of, or filter coffee with cream and sugar, or hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows. We all plump for the hot chocolate.
‘Are you sure?’ she says, looking at Lissa. ‘Wouldn’t you prefer some juice, darling?’
‘No!’ says Lissa. ‘I said chocolate, didn’t I?’ which is a bit rude I think. Her mum serves it in a kitchen that’s like one you see advertised on TV. I wish my mum could see it. We all sit at a big unit in the centre which Mrs Hamilton calls ‘the island’, on high stools with little backs to them, and sip our hot chocolate out of tall glasses, fishing the marshmallows out with long spoons. And you know what? It’s made of real chocolate, not powder, no wonder it tastes so delicious! And there’s a big plate of crunchy oat biscuits with chocolate chunks to go with them, and they’re delicious too.
I wish Mrs Hamilton was my mum. (Only joking, Mum!)
But when Lissa helps herself to a second biscuit, Mrs Hamilton says, ‘That’s enough, Melissa,’ and whisks the plate away from her. My mum would never do that to me in front of my friends. Lissa goes bright pink but she doesn’t say anything. Mrs Hamilton offers the plate to the rest of us but now no one wants to look greedy so we refuse politely and she takes it away, even though we’re al
l dying for another one and there are loads left. It’s dead awkward.
Actually, I’m glad Mrs Hamilton isn’t my mum. I prefer my own.
‘Would you like to clean up a bit and get ready for the party?’ she asks, looking at my muddy nails. I hide them quickly in my lap. ‘There’s plenty of hot water.’
‘Yes please. You go first,’ I say to Ali, feeling a bit shy.
‘No, you go first,’ says Ali, obviously feeling a bit shy too.
‘I’ll go first!’ says Tash who’s never felt shy in her life.
‘We can all go first,’ says Lissa. ‘No one needs to wait.’
When Lissa said we could all have a bath or a shower at her house I didn’t realize she meant all at the same time! She’s got not one, not two, not three, but FOUR bathrooms! There are only four people in her family: Lissa, her brother and her mum and dad. That’s one each!
‘Imagine having a bathroom to yourself,’ squeals Tash as she dives into Lissa’s en suite. ‘You are soooooo lucky!’
‘Bags me this one,’ says Ali and disappears into what I think is the family bathroom.
‘Whose is this?’ I ask, peering into a bedroom. It’s massive.
‘My mum and dad’s,’ says Lissa and I shut the door quickly. ‘I’ll use that one. You can have my brother’s if you want.’
Lissa’s brother is captain of his rugby team at school and that’s all I know about him.
‘He’s not going to walk in on me, is he?’
‘No, of course not. He’s gone to his mate’s to avoid you lot and he’s says he’s not coming home till you’ve gone. Take your time.’
Mrs Hamilton appears carrying a big pile of neatly folded towels and hands me a couple. ‘Here are some fresh towels for you, Danielle dear. I do hope Rupert has left everything tidy for you.’
Rupert! I’d forgotten Lissa’s brother’s name was Rupert. The only Rupert I’ve ever known apart from him is one that wears a red jumper, yellow check trousers and a matching scarf, and sits on Keneil’s bed. Now I have a vision stuck in my head of Lissa’s brother looking like Rupert Bear.
The Secrets Club Page 4