‘I should think so too!’ she snaps. ‘Be at Crowley School three o’clock sharp on Saturday. And don’t be late.’ She turns to Lissa, Tash and Ali. ‘You lot, the rest of the Gang of Four. You’re responsible for making sure she’s there, right?’
‘Yes, Miss,’ they chorus.
‘Don’t let me down!’ she barks. ‘You don’t seem to realize, Dani, you could go all the way with your talent. All you need is commitment.’
I gasp at the unfairness of it all. My problem is I am already committed. But I can’t tell her that. I can’t tell anyone. It’s too late for that.
We go out on the field and she puts us through our paces so fast people don’t know what’s hit them. Chantelle says she thinks she’s having a heart attack but Mrs Waters says a run round the field is the best cure for cardiac arrest (which I don’t think is strictly true) and makes her do two laps. Then Zadie says she’s pulled a muscle and she makes her run a lap backwards to make it better, but from Zadie’s face I don’t think it does. And she’s really hard on everyone, especially me.
When we get back into the changing rooms everyone blames me for our hockey lesson turning into some kind of boot camp.
‘It’s not my fault Mrs Waters was in a bad mood,’ I protest as we get changed.
‘Yes it is!’ says Lissa grumpily. ‘And now we’ve missed break and I’m starving!’
Then in French she says she doesn’t feel well and so I suppose that’s my fault too. Mrs Waters would’ve told her to go for a run but Madame Dupré is kinder than that and sends her to sick bay. We rush off to see her at lunchtime but to our surprise we discover that she’s already gone home.
‘Her mother came to collect her,’ explains the secretary in Reception.
‘Mrs Hamilton is such a fusspot,’ says Ali as we make our way outside to our favourite bench.
‘She couldn’t have been that bad,’ I say, puzzled. ‘She said she was hungry. You don’t feel like eating if you’re sick.’
‘She did look a bit pale and clammy though,’ says Tash.
We sit down and open our packed lunches. It doesn’t feel right, just three of us – it’s not enough. The Barbies are a threesome; we’re the Gang of Four. Lissa should be here investigating our lunchboxes, trying to swap her healthy-eating options for our sweet treats. She gets on my nerves sometimes but I wish she was here now to take my mind off things.
I don’t know what to do about Saturday. I take a bite of my ham sandwich and start to mull it over.
It’s always been football for me – my whole life, as long as I can remember. It should be straightforward. The fact that I, Danielle Jarvis, was actually playing Junior League football in a boys’ team and making a success of it was my dream come true.
And I couldn’t let them down.
But hockey was a good game too. The more I played it, the more I grew to love it.
Mrs Waters had said I was talented, that I could go all the way. She meant that I could represent not just my school, but my county, and one day my country if I worked hard enough.
She’d also said I lacked commitment. That hurt.
I couldn’t let her and my friends down either.
How could I possibly choose between them?
A vision of World Cups and Olympic stadiums drifts before my eyes. Me, the captain of the winning team, receiving the trophy, holding it up high to tumultuous cheers from the crowd. Football team or hockey team? Difficult to tell. There’s a gold medal round my neck, the National Anthem is playing, Mum and Dad are standing shoulder to shoulder, beaming with pride –
‘Dani!’ A voice slices through my dreams. ‘Hurry up and finish that sandwich. I want you out on the field in ten seconds flat.’
‘Yes, Mrs Waters.’ I take a final bite and wash it down with a swig of water.
‘D’you want us too, Miss?’ asks Tash, getting to her feet.
‘No, I don’t need you any more,’ says Mrs Waters. ‘Thanks for all your help but it’s just down to you now, Dani. We’re going to practise those skills till they’re perfect.’
So that’s what we do for the rest of the week. I don’t see Tash and Ali except in lessons. I don’t see Lissa at all because she’s not well and stays at home for a few days. Every spare minute, breaktime, lunchtime and after school, Mrs Waters and I practise controlling the ball, passing, receiving, dribbling, turning, defending and shooting in scores of different drills repeated over and over again until I can do them in my sleep.
By Thursday night I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be to try out for the Junior Development Centre.
The only problem is I still don’t know if I can get there.
Chapter 23
I toss and turn all night long and by Friday morning I’ve come to a decision.
I can’t choose between playing football or hockey, it’s impossible. I love them both. And, contrary to what Mrs Waters may think, I’m committed to them both.
So here’s the thing. I’m going for both. It’s the obvious solution. If I can pull it off.
I’ve worked out a plan. Tomorrow the footie match kicks off at 1 p.m. Half an hour each way because we’re under twelve. I’ve just got enough time if I nip off quickly after the match to get the train straight back from Blackett and be up at Crowley School for three o’clock.
As part of that plan I tell Mum at breakfast that I’m not going to Gran’s tomorrow.
‘I want to meet my friends in town so we can go to hockey together,’ I say, my fingers tightly crossed against the lie. ‘Hope you don’t mind, Jade. They’re coming along to support me, you see.’
Behind Mum’s back Jade does that raised eyebrows thing which means, What are you up to now?
‘What nice friends you’ve got,’ says Mum. ‘I’m not working tomorrow so Jade and I can come too. Where did you say it was?’
‘Crowley School, three o’clock.’
‘Don’t forget to let your Gran know you won’t be seeing her this weekend.’
‘I will.’
So far, so good. Plot working. I won’t have to waste time going to see Gran (sorry, Gran, nothing personal) and, even more important, she won’t walk down to the park to see who I’m playing football with like she threatened to. She’ll think I’m in town with my friends.
Now I’ve just got to tell Ali and Tash and Lissa (who’s back at school today, right as rain again) the opposite: that I can’t meet them in the morning because I’m going to see my gran. I never knew I could be such a good liar. It helps that at break and lunchtime I’m busy training with Mrs Waters, and then she takes me out of my last lesson for a pep talk, so it’s the end of the day when I finally manage to catch up with them back in our classroom. They’re in a huddle and they look as if they’re making plans of their own.
‘See you tomorrow!’ I trill, popping my head round the door. ‘At the hockey trial!’
The three of them jump apart. ‘We were just talking about you,’ says Tash. What a surprise. ‘We were going to phone you,’ she continues, ‘to make arrangements.’
‘What arrangements?’ I ask, my heart sinking.
‘We thought we’d all meet up first.’
‘Meet up?’
‘Yep. At the cafe,’ says Ali. ‘About eleven?’
‘Eleven?’
‘Yeah,’ says Lissa. ‘We could hang out, the four of us, have lunch, then go up to Crowley School for your hockey trial. Together.’
‘Aahh, sorry, can’t make it,’ I say, trying to l
ook regretful. ‘What a shame. I’m going to my gran’s in the morning as usual so I’ll see you up at hockey.’
Three sets of eyes stare at me. Then Lissa says flatly, ‘No way!’
I knew she’d try to sabotage my carefully thought-out scheme. But then Ali joins in as well.
‘Mrs Waters told us we’re responsible for getting you there, Dani,’ she says. ‘I think we should meet up first. Just to be on the safe side.’
‘I’m not going to run away!’ I laugh. ‘I actually do want to get into the centre, you know!’
But Ali doesn’t laugh back. Instead she exchanges a look with the others. I know what that look means. It says, louder than words, She’s going to play football.
‘I’ve got to see Gran first, poor old thing,’ I protest. ‘She looks forward to Saturdays when Jade and I visit her. She doesn’t get out much and sometimes she sees no one all week long.’ I pile it on thick, substituting the picture in my head of my busy, energetic Gran with one of a sad, lonely old lady, and adopt a suitably virtuous expression.
Tash studies me silently which is, weirdly, more unnerving than the others’ objections. I wonder what is going on in her head.
‘I’ll be there!’ I appeal to her, even though she hasn’t said anything. ‘Trust me! I don’t want to let anyone down.’
‘I know,’ she says and gives me a sad little smile.
She believes me.
But she thinks I will anyway.
Chapter 24
Saturday dawns bright and sunny.
Part of me is excited.
Part of me wishes it was pouring with rain. Then the football would’ve been called off, but the hockey could still have gone ahead because it’s on an all-weather pitch. I’d have done it properly then. I could’ve concentrated on doing Mrs Waters and Riverside Academy proud instead of being sick with nerves.
What happens if my plan fails? It could fall apart so easily. All it would take would be for the footie match to be delayed and I’d miss the hockey trial. Then everyone would hate me.
I’d hate me too.
I leave the house at the crack of dawn (at least that’s what it feels like), determined to be on time for football at least. I catch an earlier train than usual and I’ve got a carriage to myself. I find myself wishing Jade was here with me.
‘You’re going to play football first, aren’t you?’ she’d whispered as I’d left the house. I’d nodded and she’d given me a hug. ‘Don’t be late for the trial!’
As the train trundles its way to Blackett I find myself staring gloomily out of the window and chewing the skin round my nails.
Stop it! I tell myself sternly. What’s wrong with you? You’ve got everything you ever wanted. You’re an eleven-year-old girl and not only are you playing league football in a class boys’ team but today you are trying out for what is effectively a place in the county hockey squad. What more do you want? You should be over the moon.
But I’m not. In fact, I feel decidedly under the moon. And alone. And empty.
I’ve just discovered a truth about life.
Even if you get exactly what you want, it’s not much fun unless you’ve got someone to share it with.
I mean, Jade doesn’t really count. She doesn’t understand football so she has no idea what a big deal it is for me to be in the Blackett team. It’s my own fault. I’ve deliberately played it down so she won’t say anything to anyone.
It’s my friends I want to tell: Lissa and Ali and Tash. I hate all this lying and pretence and subterfuge. I want them to be there watching me, cheering me on. I want them to see why football means so much to me. I want them to be proud of me.
And I want someone else to be proud of me too.
My dad.
Chapter 25
I’m not the only one who’s early. Most people are already in the changing room. Our strip is there laid out ready for us, washed and pressed. Quickly I tug my hoody off and pull my shirt on over my T-shirt.
Next to me, Ryan gives me a funny look. ‘What you doing?’
‘I’m freezing,’ I say, offering up a prayer of thanks that, unlike Lissa and Tash, I have absolutely no need whatsoever to wear a bra yet. Then I notice he’s still staring at me. ‘What?’
‘Are you OK?’
‘Yeah. Of course I am.’
‘There’s nothing wrong, is there?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well …’ He looks a bit uncomfortable. ‘Why are you freezing when it’s not even cold?’
‘I dunno …’
‘And …’ He hesitates and then blurts out, ‘How come most of the time you’re brilliant on the field, but sometimes you’re rubbish?’
‘Thanks!’ I say, stung to the core. ‘That was once! And it was because my mum nearly caught me!’
‘Yeah, well that’s the other thing! Why aren’t you supposed to be playing football? What’s the big secret, Danny?’
I stop, scared where this conversation is leading, and glance around but no one’s listening. Ryan continues to stare at me, his face full of concern. ‘You’re not ill, are you?’
I’m so relieved, I burst out laughing.
‘No, I’m fine. My mum’s just a fusspot, that’s all.’ (Sorry, Mum, that is so untrue.)
Ryan’s face clears. ‘You’re a weirdo!’
‘You’re a weirdo!’
‘You are!’
We grin at each other. It sounds like a compliment.
Then, as Ryan laces up his boots, I tug my tracky pants off beneath my football shirt which conveniently drowns me and slip on my shorts. No one notices a thing. Again I’m aware of their silky softness but just in time stop myself commenting on it to Ryan. Now that, he would think, was definitely weird.
Pretending to be a boy is a minefield. Don’t even think about the showers, Dani. Just concentrate on the job in hand. Beating the opposition.
The other team arrives on time and we go outside for a warm-up. All going to plan. I can feel myself relaxing. What could possibly go wrong? Soon the whistle blows and the game begins. This team is bigger and better than last week’s and seems to be particularly dangerous down the right side of midfield where a boy built like a tank is marking me.
We get into our stride though and it’s not long before a swift pass from Marvyn allows me to place the ball deep into the back of the net. A cheer goes up from the touchline and my heart lifts. I love this. The pace picks up as the other team goes into attack. We manage to hold them off with some good defensive work but it’s not enough. By half-time, it’s one all.
We’re raring to go again in the second half and so are they. I run back on to the pitch and skip sideways while I wait for the game to restart, repeating Terry’s advice like a mantra to myself: ‘Keep in position. Don’t let them through. Keep in position. Don’t let them through …’
My voice trails away as I see someone striding down the hill towards us. Someone with short grey spiky hair and a flowing skirt, with a scarf trailing behind her like a flag. Unmistakeable. I can practically hear the beads and bangles jangling from here.
It’s Gran.
My blood runs cold. What’s she doing here? And then I remember, too late, I was supposed to ring her to cancel. With so much on my mind I’d completely forgotten. She must’ve been waiting for us to arrive for our usual visit and worrying where we’d got to. She knew where to find me though and now she was on the warpath.
‘Dani!’ she yells as she charges up to th
e pitch. ‘Come here! I want a word with you!’ Terry stares at her in surprise and Ryan and the others start laughing.
‘Who’s that?’ asks Marvyn.
‘My gran,’ I say through gritted teeth. But he’s not listening. He’s been distracted by the sight of three more figures running towards us. Oh no! I don’t believe it!
‘Hey!’ he says, his face lighting up. ‘That’s Tash. What’s she doing here?’
‘Don’t know,’ I bluff. ‘Who’s Tash?’
‘She lives near my cousin Ajay,’ he explains. ‘She goes to that posh girls’ school, Riverside Academy. See that girl with her, the tall one. Her name’s Lissa. I went to her party a few weeks ago. There was loads of posh totty there.’
‘I fancy the one with long dark hair,’ says Ryan, looking at Ali.
‘The tall one’s not bad,’ says Lofty.
‘I fancy Tash,’ says Marvyn. ‘Everyone does. But Ajay’s going out with her.’
Is he? I watch as Tash comes to a halt and spots Mr Little on the touchline. She points him out to the others and the three of them make their way over towards him.
Beside me Marvyn says, ‘Actually, I fancy her mate as well.’ So Lissa is in with a chance after all. But then he adds, ‘She’s called Elle, but she’s going out with Lissa’s brother. He’s a right prat.’ My face floods with heat but he’s too busy looking at the girls to notice. ‘I wonder where she is today?’ he adds thoughtfully.
‘Hey, Lofty. They’re talking to your old man,’ says Ryan. ‘How do they know him?’
‘Dunno.’ Lofty frowns, then his face clears. ‘Oh yeah. He’s teaching on supply at Riverside Academy.’
‘Give him a wave!’ says Ryan, who’s desperate to attract their attention.
‘Hi, Dad!’ calls Lofty obligingly. Mr Little and my three friends look up. Lissa’s jaw drops a mile as she takes in first me and then Marvyn. Automatically she raises her hand and waves back, then the three of them start gesticulating to us.
The Secrets Club Page 8