The Secrets Club

by Chris Higgins

  ‘Why won’t you tell anyone?’ persists Jade.

  ‘It’s not a secret,’ I protest.

  ‘Yes it is. You don’t even want Mum and Gran to know.’

  I can hardly deny this after the episode in the park. Jade hasn’t spilt the beans; she’s not the kind to snitch. She peers out through the window as I open my first message from Lissa.

  ‘Do they know?’

  ‘Does who know?’

  ‘Your friends.’

  I look up and follow her gaze. Lissa, Ali and Tash are standing by the barriers. Ali spots me and points, and she and Tash jump up and down and wave madly. Lissa, in contrast, seems to be arguing heatedly with the guy in uniform.

  What is going on? Surely they’re not trying to get on the train as well? Please, please tell me they’re not thinking of coming with us?

  Lissa must’ve won her argument because the guy suddenly holds the barrier open and they all burst through. But my prayers are answered as our train lurches into motion and I breathe a sigh of relief and sit back, glancing down at the message on my phone that I’ve just opened.

  You’ve forgotten your bag!

  Too late, I jump to my feet. As the train pulls slowly away from the station, I see my three friends on the opposite platform, Lissa holding my sports bag containing my brand-new football boots up high like a trophy.

  Chapter 20

  First ever game for the Blackett Junior team. I’m late and I have no kit. Great start.

  ‘Here,’ says Terry, flinging a pair of football boots at me. ‘Lucky for you I held on to the new strip for the big day, that’s all I can say. Now get yourself changed and out on that field, pronto!’

  They’re Ryan’s old pair and about two sizes too big for me but I’m in no position to be picky. Everyone else is already changed and warming up on the pitch. Blue and white shirt, blue shorts, navy and blue socks. Very smart. Supply your own boots – unless, like in my case, you’ve left them on the train.

  That was my story and I was sticking to it. It was bad but not quite as bad as the truth. ‘Sorry, Terry, I left my boots in a cafe where I was having coffee and cake with my girl-mates. Oh yeah, did I tell you that’s why I’m late for this mega-important match?’

  Don’t think that would’ve gone down too well with him somehow. Terry doesn’t know what to make of me, I can tell. On the one hand, I’m one of the best players on the field. (I’m not boasting, it’s true.) On the other hand, I turn up late for my first match, minus my boots, and I’m inconsistent. (As witnessed by him at the selection match, when I went to pieces. OK, I had good reason to; if my mum and gran had spotted me the game would be up – literally – but he didn’t know that.) What’s he supposed to think?

  I dash into the changing rooms, which we are allowed to use today for the first time now we’re an official team, and get my kit on. At least because I’m late I don’t have to worry about changing in front of the others, something that I’d been fretting about quietly all week. Until now we’ve just played in the clothes we’ve turned up in. I slip into my shirt and shorts, loving the feel of their silky smoothness against my skin. Is that what the boys think too? Then, keeping my own socks on, I tug the others up and over them and lace up the boots. They’ll do. They’ll have to! A bit loose but I can manage. I straighten up, square my shoulders and take a deep breath.

  This is it, Dani. You won’t get a second chance. Now you have to go out there and prove to Uncle Terry and Ryan and Vikram and Lofty and Marvyn and all the others and, maybe, most of all, to yourself that you deserve a place in Blackett United Junior Football Team.

  Can you do it?

  I stumble over my outsize boots.

  Yes, I can.

  We take a little while to get the feel of the game, to get the feel of us playing together as a team. Vikram goes out like a bull at a gate, rampaging round everywhere, and is cautioned for diving. Ryan is the opposite, starting off so slow he’s almost timid. My boots are a bit of a problem, but I soon get used to them. Gradually we settle down and slowly, imperceptibly we take control and are eventually rewarded by a brilliant header goal from Lofty. At half-time, we’re one–nil up.

  ‘Well done, boys,’ says Terry as he passes around bottles of water. ‘But it’s not over yet. Brilliant goal, Lofty – more of those please. Keep it up, Danny, you’re playing well. Marvyn, we need more direction in midfield …’

  Marvyn. I’d been a bit concerned last Saturday after the party that he’d recognized me. I was pretty sure a few times I’d caught him looking at me but he’d said nothing and today we have more important things to worry about.

  ‘Your dad here?’ whispers Lofty. I shake my head and turn to survey the people who’ve gathered to watch us. It was quite an impressive number.

  ‘Mine is. You can’t miss him.’ I follow his gaze to where a tall lanky guy is standing head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd and gulp. Even though he’s not wearing his trademark cord jacket, only one person could possibly be that tall.

  Mr Little.

  ‘Is that your dad?’

  ‘Afraid so.’

  Mr Little sees me watching him and waves. Oh no, he’s recognized me! That’s all I need. After my monumental efforts my cover is about to be blown by a beanpole supply teacher who happens to be a dad. Then, beside me, Lofty waves back and I realize it’s him he’s waving at, not me, and I’m struck by how proud he looks of his son. And I can’t help wishing my dad was here to be proud of me too.

  But there’s no time to think about that because the second half is about to start and we’ve got a job to do.

  And we do it. Beautifully. Basically, with a lot of skill and a little good fortune, we run rings round the opposition. With increasing confidence we gradually seize possession and territory, and though they hold out and manage a goal somewhere along the way, it’s not enough. Systematically we slaughter them: four goals to one.

  And I score two of them, even in boots two sizes too big for me. It’s magic.

  Terry is over the moon. We all are. Mr Little and the other dads go wild on the touchline, jumping and shouting like it’s the FA Cup Final. Our very first fixture and we’ve stolen the show.

  We head back to the changing rooms in a blaze of glory, arms wrapped round each other.

  ‘Leave your kit here and I’ll take it home and wash it for you,’ orders Terry. ‘Don’t want anyone leaving it behind next week like Dopey Danny here.’ He ruffles my hair to show he doesn’t mean it as people start tugging their shirts over their heads and dropping them into Terry’s big bag. ‘And don’t forget to shower, you lot, before you disappear to your parents.’

  Everyone groans but does as they’re told. I avert my eyes as boys pull off their kit and make a dash for the showers. I’d been dreading this.

  ‘What’s the problem, Danny?’ asks Terry, noticing my hesitance.

  ‘Haven’t got a towel. Left it on the train, didn’t I?’ He will never know how grateful I am for forgetting my bag at this point in time.

  ‘Go on!’ he scoffs. ‘Someone’ll lend you theirs.’ I bite my lip, wondering what on earth I can say to get out of this, and he adds, ‘I don’t want your dad after me for sending you home dirty.’

  ‘My dad couldn’t care less,’ I say bitterly. ‘He doesn’t live with us any more.’

  ‘What about your mum?’

  ‘She’s at work. I can have a shower before she gets home.’

  He hesitates. ‘No one watching you today then?’

 
I shake my head.

  His eyes soften and he gives me a wry smile. ‘Pity,’ he says gently. ‘You did well. Your parents would be proud of you.’ Then he ruffles my hair again.

  ‘Go on then!’ he says, his voice back to normal. ‘Get off home and tell your mum how well you played. See you next week, Danny. And don’t forget your boots!’

  ‘I won’t!’ I say happily and get changed quickly before someone comes out of the showers and offers to lend me their towel.

  I’d got away with it this time. But how would I manage next week?

  Chapter 21

  ‘This is becoming a habit!’

  As Lissa hands me my bag on Monday morning I can’t help noticing how cross and disapproving she looks.

  This isn’t actually that unusual for Lissa. But it is for Ali and Tash who are looking cross and disapproving too.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Thought you were going to see your grandmother on Saturday?’ says Lissa.

  ‘I was.’ Correction. ‘I did.’

  It was true. I had seen Gran. Briefly. For the first time ever since we’d been visiting her I’d gone straight to the park when I got off the train and sent Jade along to Gran’s on her own. I’d had to. I had no choice; the match was about to start.

  Two hours later, when the match was over, I’d arrived at Gran’s house on cloud nine. But straight away I knew something was wrong. She was on the doorstep waiting for me with her arms folded and her first words brought me right back down to earth.

  ‘Where have you been all this time?’

  ‘The park! I told Jade to tell you where I was.’

  ‘What are you getting up to down there for hours on end? You’re not getting into bad company, are you?’

  ‘No!’ I darted a look at Jade, wondering if she’d said something. It wasn’t like Gran to play the heavy guy.

  But Gran must’ve seen the look because immediately she said, ‘I’m responsible for you two when you’re here, you know. If you’re up to no good, I’ll have your mother to answer to.’

  I knew Mum coming up here last week was a bad idea. Now Gran had realized she’d been allowing me a bit too much freedom.

  ‘I’m not up to no good!’ Jade said indignantly. ‘I came straight here. It’s not my fault.’

  ‘Neither am I,’ I retorted quickly. ‘I’ve just been hanging out with a few mates, that’s all, Gran.’

  ‘What do you mean by “mates”? Girls?’

  Jade snorted at that point and my cover was blown. Though, to be fair, she did try to turn it (unsuccessfully) into a cough.

  ‘Boys, actually,’ I finally admitted. There was no point in lying for the sake of it.

  When I sat at the table for my lunch Gran plonked a plate of fossilized cottage pie down in front of me. ‘Don’t blame me if it’s spoiled. It’s been in the oven for hours,’ she snapped and sat down opposite me. Now I knew I was in for the third degree.

  ‘Mmmm! Yummy!’ I forked dried-up minced beef and peas as hard as bullets into my mouth, trying to distract her. ‘This is delicious, Gran!’ There was no fooling her though.

  ‘You know, Dani, I think I’m going to have a word with your mother. I’m not sure she, or your father for that matter, would be happy to know that you’re coming up to Blackett on the pretext of seeing me in order to meet up with boys in the park.’

  ‘I’m not meeting up with boys in the park!’ I said, my face fiery red. ‘Not like that, anyway.’ What does she think I’m getting up to? That would be the Barbies’ idea of heaven, not mine! ‘I don’t like boys, not the way you mean. I was just playing football with them, that’s all.’

  ‘Really?’ She studied me carefully. ‘So why all the secrecy?’

  How do you tell your grandmother you’ve been passing yourself off as a boy? ‘There is no secrecy!’ I lied wildly. ‘I just kick a ball around with them. We’re mates.’

  She gave me a suspicious look. ‘That’s all right then. Maybe we’ll come along and watch you next week, shall we, Jade?’

  Jade looked nervously at me. She didn’t know what to say.

  ‘It’s not a proper match,’ I protested. More lies. ‘It’ll be really boring.’

  ‘Let me be the judge of that,’ she said. ‘Now eat up your lunch.’

  I tried but it was hard to force down. Not because it was burned but because I could tell that she didn’t believe a word I was saying. And when she found out the truth I had no idea what would happen next.

  And now it’s Monday morning and I’ve got three more accusing faces glaring at me.

  Lissa (pointedly): ‘Oh really? You went to visit your gran? Play football, does she?’

  Me (defensive): ‘Why d’you say that?’

  Ali: ‘Because inside your bag is a pair of football boots.’

  Me (weakly): ‘Is there?’

  Tash: ‘You know there is.’

  Me (changing tack, sounding affronted): ‘You looked then?’

  Lissa: ‘We were trying to do you a favour, Dani. Return it to you.’

  Ali: ‘In case you thought you’d lost it.’

  Tash: ‘We tried to phone you –’

  Lissa: ‘But you wouldn’t answer.’

  Me (in excuse): ‘I was rushing to catch the train –’

  Ali: ‘So we looked in your bag to see if your phone was in there –’

  Tash: ‘And that’s when we saw the football boots.’

  Lissa: ‘It was pretty obvious you’d gone off to play football –’

  Ali: ‘And you didn’t want to talk to us.’

  Me (telling a lie): ‘It wasn’t like that!’

  Tash (telling the truth): ‘Actually, we were a bit cross about it –’

  Ali (kindly): ‘But we knew you’d need the boots anyway –’

  Lissa: ‘And that’s why we chased after you to the station.’

  Ali: ‘To give you your bag. That’s all.’

  Tash: ‘Because we’re still the Gang of Four –’

  Ali: ‘The No Secrets Club.’

  Lissa (reprovingly): ‘Even if you have been lying to us.’

  Me (mortified, taking the bag from Lissa’s out-stretched hand): ‘Thanks. I don’t know what to say. You are the best mates anyone could ever have. I really don’t deserve this …’

  But the bell has gone and everyone is flooding into school.

  And nobody waits for me.

  Chapter 22

  First lesson, double PE. Unusually for her, Mrs Waters comes into the changing rooms in a tizz, clutching an open folder.

  ‘Dani, I’ve just realized I need to get you into the Junior Development squad by the end of the month so you have a chance of making it to the Regional Performance Centre next year.’

  At least, that’s what I think she says. It’s difficult to tell because she’s rifling through the folder and muttering to herself behind clenched teeth. I catch some of what she’s saying.

  ‘How did I miss that? Need to keep on top of things … Still, shouldn’t be a problem … She’s ready … Should’ve realized the date … This term’s going so fast … Could wait till next year … Be a shame though … Waste of talent …’

  I wait patiently until finally she snaps the folder shut and fixes me with her beady eye. ‘Right,’ she says decisively, ‘we need you up at the all-weather pitch at Crowley School on Saturday afternoon for a trial.’

  My heart sinks. ‘This Saturday,
Miss?’

  ‘Yes. Is that a problem?’

  I hesitate and my eyes shift away from hers. Lissa is rolling hers at Tash and Ali. They know what’s going through my mind. Football.

  They don’t know how important it is though. My second match for Blackett Juniors. I’m their chief striker. They need me.

  Mrs Waters is waiting for an answer but I don’t know what to say. Suddenly she explodes.

  ‘Danielle! Why do you even need to think about this? I don’t think you understand what an opportunity you could be missing.’

  ‘I do, Miss!’

  ‘We’ve been training a long time to get you ready for this trial.’

  ‘I know, Miss.’

  ‘Then, whatever you’ve got on this weekend, cancel it!’

  Silence. Mrs Waters glares at me.

  ‘Do you understand what an honour this is?’

  ‘Yes, Miss.’ I really do. I understand that if I get into the Junior Development Centre I can progress to the Regional Performance Centre and from there I might even go on to play hockey at national level one day. It’s an incredible opportunity, one that most girls would give anything for.

  Girls like Lissa and Tash, and poor old Ali who hadn’t even made it into the Year Seven school team, and all the rest of them who’d turned out for weeks for me in the wind and rain to give me a chance to get into this elite group.

  I was the high-flyer at sport, Mrs Waters’ blue-eyed girl. The one who’d won the sports scholarship. I was meant to represent Riverside Academy at hockey and netball and any other sport under the sun. I would be letting down so many people if I didn’t turn up for this hockey trial on Saturday.

  Everyone is silent and I can feel the hostility radiating from my teacher and every other person in the room as they stand there glaring at me. Including my best mates. The Barbies are loving it.

  ‘I really want to be in it, Mrs Waters,’ I say humbly and I mean it.