Being Me (2 page)

‘Faye White has left early to get up the motorway,’ Miss Fridge says, ‘but she left me this.’ Miss Fridge waves an envelope.

‘Come on, spill the beans, Miss, who’s da Queens?’ yells Mikaela, back in rap mode.

‘What did Faye White say?’ I chip in, translating.

‘Inside this envelope is the answer,’ Miss Fridge says. She slowly pulls out a piece of white paper, which she unfolds. ‘Your whole team played fantastic,’ Miss Fridge says, reading from the paper.

‘Who? Who? Who? Who?’ everyone yells.

‘Wait for it!’ Miss Fridge shouts over us.

We’re all there, waiting.

Miss Fridge moves her finger along the paper to read the note from Faye White, like she’s five years old or something. ‘She gave Mikaela Most Valuable Player,’ she declares.

Mikaela jumps right up in a tail-shake dance. ‘I’m on the England team! Dream! Dream! Dream!’

‘I score a hat trick and I’m not?’

‘Adele, stop sulking.’

Miss Fridge keeps on. ‘Nobody’s on it yet. Mrs White said she needed to see a few more matches. Now let’s celebrate. We’re in the Semis. Off you go, girls. Showers. Training’s tomorrow. Nobody be late. Remember – you can make it into the England team if you train hard. No more late arrivals, Lucy! No more sloppy performances, Sid! No more daydreaming in the middle of the pitch, Adele!’

I trudge back to the dressing room with the rest of them. I was sure I was going to be picked for England. I scored a hat trick. What’s a girl got to do?

Mikaela’s dives into the showers and does this awful warbling. I imagine wildlife for miles around fleeing. She is Rhianna, without the talent or the looks. She gets the others to join in. I scrub up, spin out of the showers and start pulling on my clothes.

After ten minutes, Miss Fridge cuts off the water. There’s calls of ‘No, Miss!’ and ‘I only just got in!’ and ‘I’m still soapy!’ Miss Fridge pays them no attention. She waddles back into her little changing room office, picks up her headphones and goes back to Skyping her mum, like she always does. Someone turns the showers back on. They’re singing my praises now in there. I’m the hat trick hero after all, not Mikaela.

‘There’s one and one only! Adele Vialli!’

I’m walking to the bus stop. I think a little bit about Miss Fridge. Yelling on the touchline. Throwing all the kit into the store room with one easy flip of her arm. Maybe she used to be a shot-putter? Then I’m thinking,
why does Mikaela not pass me the ball more?
It doesn’t make sense, I’m the leading goal-scorer by far. Then again, not much about Mikaela makes sense. Still, she’s my best friend.

Five Random Thoughts:

   DO SQUIRRELS EVER EAT ANYTHING OTHER THAN NUTS?

   IF PEOPLE HAVE BEEN DYING FOR MILLIONS OF YEARS, WHERE ARE ALL THE BODIES?

   WHY DO BIRDS SING?

   WHAT IS IT LIKE TO BE A BOY?

   WILL I EVER SCORE IN A WORLD CUP FINAL?

I catch the bus. As I get closer to home, I start to feel queasy. It’s always like this going home on a Saturday after a football match. It’s the not-knowing that gets me. Will Mum be conscious? Will she be sober? Mum’s always worse at weekends. Dad’s never there. He’s out at MTB’s matches or then busy on business. When MTB does get home, he whizzes straight up to his room and does whatever boys do in their rooms with their door locked and music blasting. Everyone leaves all the worrying about Mum to me.

I get off the bus. Thoughts skid around in my brain. Each thought is worse than the one before. I imagine my mum drowning in the bath. I imagine her standing in the middle of a road, swaying, drunk. I start running. My phone goes off. It’s Mikaela. She’s texted me. I stop and get my phone out.

Well done, hat trick grl. ♥♥

I text her back.

Thnx gf u were brill 2 ♥♥

We do a snowball of best friend texts. Suddenly I’m not alone.

Why is Mikaela my best friend? We are total opposites. I’m thin, she’s chubby; I’m tall, she’s short; my hair’s straightish, hers is tight, black curls. She’s close to her mum, I never do anything with mine. I’ve got a boyfriend, she hasn’t. She can name the capital city of every Caribbean Island in ten seconds flat, I can name the street that every Nando’s in town is on in ten seconds flat. My skin’s olive, hers is ebony black. Yet we’re best friends. Why?

Five Reasons Mikaela Is My Best Friend:

   SHE KNOWS WHERE TO FIND ME WHEN I’M HIDING

   SHE CRIED WITH ME WHEN MY RABBIT DIED

   SHE LETS ME COPY HER HOMEWORK

   SHE’S FUNNY, LIKE WITH HER RHYME STUFF

Finally I reach home.

I put my key in the front door and open it. MTB rushes out. I head upstairs, drop my football boots in my boots bucket in my room (it soaks the mud off), then head across to my mum’s room. Mum is on her bed, face up, eyes closed, mouth open. There’s a swampy smell in the air so she’s been smoking cannabis. Mum has various positions on her bed depending on what state she’s in. The foetal position, with her knees hugging her chin means she’s in her ‘I lost my baby ten years ago and I want her back’ state. If she’s lying on her back with her hands clasped to her forehead, she’s in her ‘pity me, the neglected housewife’ mood. If she’s in the middle of the bed with all four limbs spread out starfish style then she’s in her ‘I’ve taken too much medication’ mode.