Gracie Faltrain Takes Control (7 page)

Alyce Fuller smiles at me as she's walking up to her seat. Man, that chick has killer eyes.
Brett Mason

To win anything at all, though, you have to risk something. Unless Alyce can do that, she'll always lose. She'll never leave where she is. It's not enough to stand on the platform and wish for the opportunity train if you're not ready to get on when it pulls into the station.

She's in the crowd with Mum and Dad this Saturday, watching our last match before the Firsts competition starts. There's a group of kids sitting about ten steps down, closer to where the action will be. Not Annabelle's crowd. Kids like Brett Mason, the kind of guy who'd let you into the tuckshop line if you told him you were in a hurry. But in a million years Brett would never ask Alyce to sit with them. He wouldn't think of it. Because people like Annabelle have told people like Brett that Alyce currency can't buy anything at school.

I've watched her get carried around in people's wallets for a while. In Year 6 Alyce hung out with Francesca Ring. In Year 8 she sat with Hailey Nelson. By Year 9 she was on her own most of the time. She was just too different. Until she met me.

I'm not passing her on. I'm increasing her market value. Pretty soon everyone in the school will wish they'd held on to those Alyce shares. They could have bought their mum and dad that snazzy house by the beach they'd always wanted.

If fate brought Alyce to me, then it's because I can make things different for her. She's like those mice I saw on the Discovery Channel last week. The scientists were exposing them to UV rays to test how quickly they developed skin cancer. Mum had to leave the room. Dad and I watched right to the end. I wanted to see what happened to those little guys, trapped in wire cages, sunning it up. Nothing happened, though, because mice's bodies are smart. The more you expose them to something they don't like, the more they change to shut it out. Those mice were growing little thirty-plus coats over their skin to block out the rays. They'd have to bake for hours before the scientists could see a difference.

Alyce has only been in the sun with me for six months. She just needs more exposure. I'm not saying I want her to get so popular she fries. I'd be happy if she had a tiny tan.

Alyce acts as if she doesn't care. I can see her chatting away to Dad like she always does before the game, her hands shaping some character out of air for him to see. Don't encourage her, Dad, I think. Alyce has to live in this world. The real one.

‘What are you thinking about, Faltrain?' Martin asks, stretching next to me.

‘Alyce.'

His eyes trail along the stands till he finds her. ‘She loves talking to your old man.'

‘She needs to hang out with people her own age. Where does talking to Dad get her?'

‘It gets her happy, Faltrain.'

‘It won't make her fit.'

‘Alyce fits fine. It's everyone else who's wrong.'

‘Majority rules, Martin. You ever hear of that?'

‘You sure you don't want Alyce to change so your best friend isn't the biggest nerd in Year 11? I know you miss Jane.' ‘That's not it, Martin. Anyway, Freddy Jabusi is the biggest nerd in Year 11. Alyce is at least second on the list.'

I change the subject. Talking about Jane makes me feel sick. If she doesn't call tonight it will make two matches that she has missed.

‘So how much do you think we'll win by today?'

He shrugs. ‘Just play your best, Faltrain, that's all you can do.'

‘Don't you care if we win?'

The old Martin cared, the one who pulled me aside during my first game and told me how I could make it. ‘You care enough for both of us,' he says, and walks off to goal.

I don't get it. If he feels like that, why not quit soccer altogether? What's the point in being on the field if you're not planning on winning?

I fight fierce today. I make sure we win. Look at me, Alyce and Martin, see what it feels like to take what you want. I stare up into the stands at half time and see Alyce, huddled under a blanket with Mum and Dad. Martin looks cold, too. I'm hot, heart pumping the heat up under my skin to at least forty degrees.

Martin and Alyce keep piling on the layers like those little mice. I guess they figure that way they'll never have to face up to anything. That won't work, though. Underneath all those layers, they're still Alyce and Martin, even if no one else can see.

Touch Faltrain and I'll touch your face.
Martin Knight

‘Right. Listen up,' Coach yells on Tuesday afternoon. ‘If you're not here to try out for the Firsts, then you're in the wrong place.' He laughs for a bit at his own joke. No one else does. This isn't funny. This is serious. This is it.

‘I want two practice matches, short ones, to give me an idea of how you play. After those I'll make my decision. List'll be up in a few days.' He waves his hand down the middle of us and then divides each group again. He calls out the positions. He gives me my usual one. From his wink I'm pretty sure it's not an accident.

Martin's on the other team as goalie. Flemming's playing with him. Singh's with me, but other than that, everyone else on my team is new. Coach blows the whistle and we're off.

Jason Newman collects me on the way past and knocks me flat. And he's on my team. No prizes for guessing this is going to be a rough game. It won't do any good to complain, though. I have to prove I can win against guys like Newman. If I can't, then there's no way Coach will pick me.

The ball's kicked towards centre and I run. ‘Arms down, Hakka,' Coach shouts, but it's too late. Callum Hakka cracks me with his elbow and I hit the ground. Again. The thing about that opportunity train I was talking about? It's not only important to be on it, you have to make sure you're not under it, either.

At the end of the first half Coach calls me over. ‘It's getting rough out there. You want to come off and play in the next match with Francavilla and Corelli?'

‘No.' I say it as hard as the ground felt when I smacked against it. Harder. If Coach pulls me out now, then everyone will know I can't cut it. ‘Don't worry about me. Worry about them.'

‘Get a drink, then. You've got five minutes.'

I look around for Martin but he's not with his team. He runs back on late. ‘Watch out, Faltrain!' he calls as Newman trips me. I get a face full of dirt and an ear full of Jason's laughter. He's about to get a game full of Gracie Faltrain.

‘You're meant to be on my team,' I yell. But since you've rewritten the rules, let's see how you like them.

I run at Jason. Fast. I take the ball. There's no time to play games. I head straight for the goal and shoot. Martin doesn't do me any favours. He wants to get on the team too. He dives for the ball and misses by a hair. A beautiful, thin as silk, hair. Goal number one: Gracie Faltrain. Soccer isn't about being a boy or girl, you idiots. It's about skill. It's about sending the ball home.

I'm too fast for them this half. I'm too good. I chase the ball into the corner near our goal. I'm on an impossible angle, but there's no one near to send it to. I'll have to mail it myself then. I flick the ball up so I can shoot with my right leg. I kick it as hard as I can. Goal number two. I'm in. I can feel it.

‘I did it, Martin,' I laugh as we lie on the edge of the field, watching the second match.

‘Never doubted you for a second.'

‘Really?'

‘You're a hundred times better than anyone else out there, Faltrain,' he says, and my bones tingle like they do when he kisses me. Before I can thank him Annabelle walks up and stands over us, blocking the sun.

‘You want something?' I ask.

‘I just came over to congratulate Martin.'

I can feel anger making my arms and legs twitch. Who does she think she is, congratulating my boyfriend? ‘Get lost, Annabelle.'

‘You think you're better than everyone else just because you're on the soccer team. You only scored goals today because at half time Martin and Andrew threatened to bash anyone who touched you. Face it, Gracie; you're out of your league.'

‘You're just jealous,' I start, but then I see Martin's face, covered with guilt. I wait until Annabelle has walked away.

‘You rigged the match? You said I was better than all of them.'

‘You are. But you haven't played against guys desperate to get a place. It's rough. They'd decided to knock you to the ground. We evened the score.'

‘But the score's not even when it comes to me, Martin. Don't you get it? I'm not like everyone else. I'm a girl, so I have to be better. I have to be able to do it on my own, all of it, or it's no good.' He's quiet. ‘But that's it, isn't it, Martin? You really don't think I can.'

‘I think you're a better soccer player than all of us put together.'

‘So why rig the tryouts?'

‘Because. . .'

‘Say it, Martin.'

‘I don't know if it'll be enough.'

I can duck all the insults that Annabelle has to throw at me, but that one sentence from Martin hits me full in the face.

‘Stop trying to make me like you.'

‘And what am I like, Faltrain?'

‘You're scared all the time. You weren't like that last year.'

‘You should be more scared. Those guys are going to play rough and you need to be ready for it.'

‘I don't want to live like you,' I say, and run home. Maybe if I'm fast enough, I can get away from his words before they take hold.

‘Gracie, baby.' Dad holds on tight to me tonight as I cry. ‘I've seen you out there. You're better than any of them.'

‘Martin rigged the tryouts.'

‘Did he put the ball on the end of your boot? Did he have a remote control steering it towards goal?'

‘No.'

‘Seems like all he did was make sure they played fair.'

‘I want the old Martin back, the one who told me to have guts and get the ball.'

‘Martin cares about you, Gracie. He wants to protect you.'

‘I've told you before. He's the one who needs protecting.' I explain my storm theory to Dad. ‘The eye of the cyclone.' He nods. ‘It's the scariest part.' ‘But if he'd face his mum, things would be better, I know they would.'

‘I'm not so sure, Gracie. You know how cyclones and hurricanes start?'

‘No.'

‘They get their energy from water that's as warm as the sun on your skin. And they don't stop until they hit colder oceans. You force Martin out of the only good memories of his mum that he has into the cold reality, and it might hurt him more. Are you willing to risk that?'

‘Taking risks is what life's all about, Dad.'

‘It's what
your
life is all about, baby,' he says. ‘Think about that.'

Thinking doesn't save people, Dad. Sometimes you have to act.

I told you that love sucks. But is anyone listening to me? No. Is anyone calling to check on me? No. England could fall off the map and you'd all just smile and keep playing soccer.
Jane Iranian

Life shouldn't be hard.

‘If it wasn't like that, though,' Dad said last night before he turned off my light, ‘how would anyone really learn anything?' And then he left me lying in the dark.

What a load of crap, Dad. Why do people have to learn the hard way? Why did I have to find out from Annabelle that my boyfriend doesn't think I can cut it on the soccer field anymore? Why does Alyce have to hang around half her life waiting for Flemming to wake up and smell the roses?

I'm sick of life being hard. If Flemming won't smell the roses himself, then I'm going to grab his face and shove it in them. Next, I'm going to fix things for me. I'm going to train so hard that I show everyone what real soccer is. I'm going to be faster and better than I was before. I'm going to show Martin that living like a coward is wrong – as soon as I start talking to him again, that is. And I'm taking Jane back. A quick phone call's not beneath my dignity. I'll make the conversation short and sweet, show her what she's missing.

I wake up early to ring her.

‘Faltrain, hi, I . . .'

‘This has to be quick, Jane,' I cut her off. ‘I only have five dollars left on my phone card until next month.' I don't want her thinking I'm desperate. ‘I need some advice about how to set Flemming and Alyce up.'

‘Like I told you before,' Jane says after I explain the situation. ‘Think before you do anything. Take your time and use a bit of tact.'

‘Look at all the great lovers they make us study in school. Romeo and Juliet. That guy Othello,' I say. ‘They didn't take their time.'

‘Yeah, and what happened?'

‘I don't know. I never bothered reading them.'

‘They died, Faltrain.'

‘Oh. Well that's depressing.'

‘I think that's probably what Juliet said when she woke up next to a dead Romeo.'

‘You're just like Martin. Would it hurt to be a bit more positive? I'm trying to do a good thing for Alyce here.'

‘I just think it wouldn't hurt to be a bit more sensitive. You don't want people laughing at Alyce. It's awful when you don't want to go to school because the whole place is making fun of you. There's this girl over here who was set up on a date and the guy didn't really like her –'

‘Yeah, but this is different, Jane. Flemming likes Alyce, I know it.'

‘Look, you asked for my advice, Faltrain, and that's what I'm giving. Be careful with Alyce. I have to go now. It's late over here. Mum's yelling at me to hang up.'

‘I didn't hear anything. What's wrong? You're being weird
lately. You're not acting like my friend at all.'

‘I'm not acting like your friend?'

‘No. There's stuff going on in my life and you don't even care. You didn't ring after the game. I emailed you, no reply . . .'

‘Faltrain, you ever think that maybe there's stuff going on in my life other than you?'

‘I guess you have heaps of new friends over there, no time for the little people.' I wait for her to tell me something different. I want her to say, ‘Faltrain, stop being such an idiot. You're the only best friend I need.'

There's silence on the line. And not a puddle of it either. I'm talking silence the size of the Indian Ocean. A person could drown in silence that big.

‘Jane?'

‘That's my mum calling again. I have to go,' she says, hanging up.

Be careful with Alyce? Since when does Jane Iranian give advice like be careful? When I first tried out for soccer, most people told me that playing on a boys' team was too dangerous. ‘Ignore everyone, Faltrain. Being careful isn't living. Being alive means getting out there, getting knocked around.'

The Jane I know wouldn't tell Alyce to be scared all her life. She'd say, ‘Get out there and break some bones; at least then you'll feel something.' That's got to be better than putting yourself on ice, making sure you're numb.

‘Gracie? Are you okay?' Mum asks.

‘Yeah. Why?'

‘You're talking to the toaster.'

‘Jane and I just had a fight. We never fight.'

‘I can remember a few times you two disagreed.'

‘Like when?'

‘Like the time Jane's cousin came to stay in Year 7 and you were so angry that she wasn't spending as much time with you as before. Jane invited you along to everything but it wasn't good enough.'

‘They kept talking about things I couldn't join in with, family holidays and stuff.' I wish Mum hadn't reminded me of that. I'd forgotten what it felt like to have Jane push me away.

‘It feels like she's not interested in what I'm doing anymore. She's missed calling me after two games.'

‘Gracie, the only way to find out is to ask. Maybe you're both changing, I don't know. One thing I am sure of – if you ask her, Jane is the sort of person to tell you straight.'

That's exactly why I won't be asking, Mum. I want to keep her for a little bit longer.

Jane's right about one thing: a little sensitivity with Alyce and Flemming is probably the right way to go.

‘So, I heard you're failing school, Flemming,' I say at lunch.

‘Who said I'm failing?' he asks, putting his sandwich back down on the plastic.

‘Everyone's saying it.'

‘Who's everyone?'

‘Kids, Coach.'

‘Coach?'

‘I heard him telling Martin that he'll be needing a new centre forward if things keep going the way they are.' I feel bad lying to Flemming, but the end justifies the means, right? And this end will help Alyce.

‘From the way he was talking, I'd reckon your dad might get a phone call tonight.'

‘Another one?' Flemming asks, putting his head in his hands. ‘My dad's gonna kill me. He lost it completely when the year level coordinator called last week. He said I'm off the team if I don't catch up.'

Hang on. Forget love. There's something much more important at stake. With Martin in goal, Flemming's the second best player we have on the field. We need him to win.

‘So do the assignments.'

He doesn't answer. ‘Flemming? Flemming?' I push his name at him.

‘I can't do the stupid homework, all right.' His voice sounds like mine did last year after the guys kicked me off the team. I had nothing without soccer. Flemming looks like he's missing a layer of skin. Everything burns when you're like that. Everything hurts.

‘Soccer's the only thing I'm good at, Faltrain.'

I don't bother telling him anything different. He and I are too alike for lies. ‘So I'll help you.'

‘Yeah, right. You're almost as bad as me at school.'

Okay, some lying is good. ‘I meant I could get Alyce to help you.'

‘No way.'

‘What, you didn't actually believe Annabelle, did you?'

‘It's not that.' He bites his lip so hard I feel it. ‘She'll think I'm dumb.'

‘Alyce doesn't care about stuff like that. She's friends with me, remember?'

‘I guess you're right.'

‘You don't have to agree so quickly.'

He doesn't laugh, just keeps looking down. Flemming shouldn't be like this. He belongs on the soccer field, fighting
his way to goal. He's inside out, now. People shouldn't let their tags show to the world. It's not right.

‘There are about twenty assignments overdue,' he says.

‘Twenty?'

‘You reckon she'll mind?'

‘No way.'

I lean casually against the bricks until he's out of sight. And then I bolt. I need to find Alyce before she finds him.

She's in the library, as usual. I can't quite read the look on her face when I give her my news. It's a combination of horror, happiness and confusion. There's a fair amount of fear in there as well. I guess when you think about it, love's a mixture of all four. I remember when I thought about kissing Nick last year I felt like I had a volcano bubbling under my skin. ‘Get too close to a volcano, Faltrain, and it'll burn till you're ash,' Jane would say if she was here. Her voice doesn't sound like it usually does in my head. Up until a few weeks ago, it was strong and clear, as if she was standing right next to me. Today her voice is an echo.

‘So, you're okay with helping him? Alyce? Hello, anyone home?'

‘Gracie, I can't,' she whispers.

‘Why not?' I whisper back, even though I'm not sure why we're being so quiet. No one's here except for us. ‘It's twenty assignments. You could do them in your sleep.'

‘You heard what Annabelle said in class. Imagine what she'll do when she knows I'm tutoring him.'

‘Who cares what Annabelle Orion says about you? It's perfect. Flemming needs help. You get to save the day. It could be the script for a film.'

‘Right. Next you'll be telling me that with a little makeup
and new clothes Andrew will come right out and ask me to the dance.'

‘There are lots of films where the nerd gets the guy, Alyce.'

‘I think you're meant to tell me I'm not a nerd.'

‘Alyce, close your eyes and relax,' I say. ‘Stop being so scared for a second.' Coach has us do something like this in his pep talks. It's about seeing who you really are, not who you are when you're afraid.

‘When you think about spending all that time with Flemming, what do you really feel? Think with your heart and not your head. What does it tell you?'

She closes her eyes for about half a minute.

‘Well?' She blinks.

‘Alyce?'

‘It tells me not to hope, Gracie.'

I was really hoping she'd say it told her to be excited.

I guess that's one of the big differences between Alyce and me. The first thing I do is hope. I hope so hard when I see that the final list for the Firsts has gone up, my head almost explodes. If I'm not picked, I'll never prove that I could have made it on my own.

‘So look who's on the team.' Annabelle drags her finger down the paper and hits my name. ‘With her boyfriend's help, that is.'

I turn to Alyce to roll my eyes but she's gone. That's the way it is, now. When Annabelle Orion's around, Alyce Fuller isn't, like smoke on a windy day. I run my eye over the rest of the names. Flemming is there, for now. So is Martin. Most of our guys made it, too.

‘Everyone in the other Firsts teams is laughing at you,' Annabelle says. ‘They're saying that there's no way a girl could cut it in the competition.'

‘Is that what your boyfriend's saying? I cut it against him last week.'

‘Let's see. The last thing he said about you was that he'd like to see you dead.'

Ouch.

‘He says that if you play in the competition, then they'll treat you like all the other guys. He gives you five minutes before you're out of the game. No one's doing you any favours next Saturday.'

‘She won't need favours, Annabelle,' Martin says, standing next to me. Too little, too late, I think, and try not to notice that he's wearing the blue jumper I like so much, the one that makes him look as hot as summer. Cool it, Faltrain. No amount of sexy jumpers makes up for what he did.

‘I don't need help.' I look at Martin. ‘From anybody.' He walks away without a word. Annabelle trails after him.

‘She's my punishment, you know,' I say when Alyce miraculously blows back into town.

‘Don't be stupid, Gracie,' she answers, straightening her glasses. ‘No one has done anything bad enough to deserve that.' I watch Annabelle flirting with Martin at the drinking taps. And I have to agree.

‘So the Firsts games start next Saturday,' Coach says on Friday afternoon. ‘There's no game for you tomorrow, so make the most of the relaxation. Next week we're up against the best team of the competition.'

‘Stop worrying,' Flemming says. ‘We thrashed them in the off-season games.'

‘I'll stop worrying when you start,' Coach barks. ‘You think
this is going to be easy? You think that and we're finished before we even get out on the field. Give me five laps. And that means everyone.'

‘Good one, Flemming,' I say, my heart screaming in my chest. ‘Just remember to do one thing before you open your mouth next time.'

‘What's that?'

‘Shut up.' I overtake him. I need to finish these laps so there's time to die before the rest of practice.

‘All right,' Coach yells when we've finished. ‘Listen up. We've got four new players. Wrecker, King, Marsters and Cheng, welcome to the team. You'll play with Dalton as our strikers. Don't stuff up. These are the other positions. Knight, you're still captain and goalie. Francavilla, Bennett, Singh, Buckley and Morieson, you're in defence. Faltrain, Corelli and Maiden, you're in midfield. Flemming, you're centre forward. Now get into pairs. I want to see some solid kicking.'

Martin grabs hold of my arm. ‘You're still mad, aren't you?'

‘What makes you think that?'

‘You're about to ask Corelli to be your tackle partner. I never give you the silent treatment after you've annoyed me, Faltrain, think about that.' And then he turns around and smacks straight into Corelli. I put my hand out to help my new partner up. I leave Martin lying on the ground.

‘Can't we talk?' he asks again after practice.

‘Get lost,' I say. ‘Happy? Now we've talked.' I grab my bike and cycle home. Just because he's a goldfish doesn't mean that I am. I wish I was, though. I wish I could forget that Martin thinks I'm not strong enough to make it.