The Crush (3 page)

Beep! Beep!

‘Sorry, gotta go. Catch ya!'

Laughing, Chris jumped into his dad's car, Matt in pursuit. Matt pulled up short, letting his friend get away. Knowing Chris, he was bluffing just to stir him. Matt hadn't told anyone about the brunette. Not even his mum.
Especially
his mum.

Thinking of home, he realised he was the last of his team to leave. He grabbed his bag and boots and started walking.

 

Peak-hour traffic was crunched together by four o'clock. Cars, trucks, taxis, vans and an empty hearse inched along the main road. Waves of heat
shimmered from their engines as the drivers' tempers stewed at the delay, listening to radio talkshow hosts vomit bigotry across the airwaves. Matt left for the twisted intestines of suburbia. Stopping a short distance away, he unbuckled his school bag then pulled out a handful of glossy department store catalogues showcasing fluffy blue slippers, ferns and shapely models in knickers and bras. Each pamphlet was neatly folded in thirds. He quickly stuffed the first one into the mailbox of a pale green weather-board house then glanced around him. Good. No one had seen him. He hated it when he was hassled by adults, dogs or smart-mouthed kids for doing his job. It stank big time but it earned him some spare change.

Next was a new block of flats echoing with Middle Eastern music and billowing with lines of washing. The brick monstrosity was one of hundreds crammed together in the Bankstown area. The whole street looked like a giant kid had whacked together some crazy Lego town without much idea of living space or taste. Matt stuffed twenty pamphlets into the mailboxes then moved on to the next apartment block.

Within an hour, his bag was empty. Exhausted, he flopped down on a low garden wall next to a used
car lot and watched the traffic muscle its way along the Hume Highway. Beyond was a petrol station cluttered with oil racks, pumps, ice freezers, barbecue heat beads and cheap plastic soccer balls. Through the windows, he could see a fridge stacked with every cold drink imaginable.

The first mouthful of orange juice washed down his throat before the money rattled in the cash register. He sucked back another gulp then wiped his mouth slowly along his shoulder.

In no hurry to leave, he looked outside at a blue Porsche pulling up at one of the bowsers. Next to it was a white kombi van with a bad muffler and panels painted with murals even an ageing hippie would protest against.

A girl in a green school blazer, tartan uniform and grey tights stepped out of the Porsche. She slammed the door then hurried away from the car. But she had only gone a few steps before the driver called her back. Matt couldn't see who it was. The person was hidden behind the kombi but he could hear anger in the driver's voice.

Hurt, the girl retreated and headed towards the bowser. She looked like she was on the verge of tears, but she obediently lifted the nozzle from the bowser's cradle and stuck it into the Porsche's hip.

The girl was pretty. Real pretty. But then again, which girl wasn't? He'd seen her before. Her name was Kelly Sinclair and she went to Mother of Mercy—a middle-class Catholic girls school that all his mates went out of their way to walk past. Nearly as tall as Matt, she had long legs, twilight-blue eyes, dark chocolate-coloured hair that cascaded around her shoulders and rounding breasts. Her face, when it wasn't shadowed with despair, was playful and occasionally warmed by her shy but deep sense of humour. Her body was shaping more and more every day into that of a woman who would always attract a guy's attention. And her kissable lips remained painfully elusive.

Kelly must have been distracted while filling up the Porsche because petrol suddenly piddled onto the ground next to her feet. She jumped back and flicked the mess from her skirt and hands. The driver saw it too and he starting abusing her again.

‘Hey, you!' Matt jumped. Standing behind the counter, the manager was pointing at him. ‘Yeah, you! Are you going to stand around all day in my shop or what? This ain't a train station, you know.' The manager glared at him with eyes that told him to scram. Matt considered making a big deal about it,
but he was tired. He readjusted his bag and his boots then headed through the sliding doors.

Kelly had finished wiping the mess from the side of the Porsche when he stepped outside. He walked in her direction to say hello but she ignored him. Scrunching up a paper towel, she hurried past him into the store, trying to remain composed. He turned to say g'day, when the driver of the Porsche growled directly behind him.

‘Don't even think about it, feral.'

Matt spun round. Blackwell!

‘She's too classy for you. Plus, she's mine.'

The Lions captain puffed up his chest and looked down his nose at Matt. Veins traced down his large arms like tree roots as his fingers balled into fists.

‘I was just going to say hello.'

‘Bad luck. She doesn't talk to dogs like you.'

Blackwell leaned over Matt; his mere presence pushing him back a step. Matt knew what was happening. It was time to leave.

‘Where do you think you're going?' Blackwell said, shoving him back.

‘Hey, leave me alone. I don't want any trouble, okay?'

‘And maybe I do.'

‘Look, if this has got to do with today—'

‘Of course it's got to do with today.'

Matt sighed through gritted teeth. ‘We won, all right? Get over it.'

‘It's more than that. You made me look like a fool.'

‘What?'

‘You know what I'm talking about. The talent scouts. You saw them.'

‘What about them?'

‘They were talking about you and not me.'

‘So?'

‘So I'll know who to maim if I miss out on a contract with a Sydney club, won't I?'

Matt couldn't believe what he was hearing. ‘I didn't know the talent scouts were even in the grandstand until after the match. I wouldn't have played any differently if I had known. My team comes first. We play to win. Always have. If you can't handle that then you should think about taking up another sport.'

Matt attempted a second pass but Blackwell blocked him again. ‘Do you know who I am?'

‘Of course but having a famous father doesn't impress me.'

‘It's got nothing to do with who my old man is, feral. It's me you should be worried about.'

‘C'mon. I'm not in the mood for this. If you want
to be the big tough guy, then Hollywood's that way.'

‘Stupid kid.'

Blackwell suddenly lashed out. He thumped Matt hard in the chest and sent him reeling into one of the metal stands. Wire bit painfully in Matt's back and arms as plastic soccer balls scattered everywhere.

He tried scrambling to his feet but Blackwell was faster. With two hands, he hoisted Matt up and threw him against a wall.

‘What are … Aaron! Stop!'

A girl's voice. Off to the right.

‘Stay out of this, Kelly! Get in the car.'

‘What are you doing to him?'

‘None of your business. Now do as I say!'

‘Don't talk to her like that,' Matt said.

‘I'll talk to her however I like,' Blackwell said, pounding Matt against the wall again.

‘Leave him alone, Aaron. You promised no more fighting.'

‘Don't argue with me. Get-in-the-car!'

He freed one hand to threaten Kelly with a slap. She flinched and impulsively Matt grabbed hold of Blackwell's raised palm to stop him. That angered Blackwell more. He pinned Matt's head against the wall and prepared to punch him in the nose.

‘Hold it right there, son.'

The three of them looked to the entrance of the servo, where the manager and two mechanics stood.

‘What do you want?' Blackwell snapped.

‘You off my property. Now.'

‘Or what?'

‘Or you can talk to the cops I've just called.'

Suddenly, as if on cue, a police siren screamed down the Hume Highway. His fingers still clenched around Matt's neck, Blackwell strained to listen if he had heard right. He had. Dropping Matt to the ground, he warned, ‘This ain't over.' Then, turning to Kelly, he shouted, ‘Get in the car!'

He started up the Porsche's engine. Panicking, Kelly stepped towards the car but faltered when the siren grew louder.

‘C'mon! The cops are almost here!' he shouted.

She still didn't move. Blackwell screamed once more before gunning the car out of there in a screech of rubber. The Porsche was a streak of blue down the highway just as the cop car appeared around the corner. The chase was on.

Free, Matt breathed deep as he massaged his neck. He attempted to swallow but found it excruciating. There was no sympathy from the manager, however.

‘You too, son. Get out of here. You and your friends aren't welcome.'

A quarter of the way home, Matt realised he was being followed by Kelly. She trudged along the footpath behind him. Her shoulders sagged. Her eyes were open but not looking at anything. He hated seeing girls downcast like that. Nothing was sadder than a girl robbed of her smile.

‘Are you okay?' he asked, when she caught up to him.

Startled, she blinked out of her daze. ‘Sorry?'

‘Are you okay? You look a little lost.'

‘Me? No … I'm fine.'

‘Do you need any help?'

‘No, really. I'm fine. Thanks.'

She grimaced, excused herself then kept moving.

Matt watched her pass before holding onto his
shouldered boots and jogging after her. Call him a softie but he couldn't let a girl that depressed just leave.

‘Do you think the cops caught him?' Matt said behind her.

She stopped and looked at him. ‘Pardon?'

‘Aaron Blackwell. Do you think they got him?'

Kelly stared in the direction her boyfriend had escaped. Her eyes were skittish and frightened—not for Aaron but for herself. ‘I hope not.'

‘I don't get it. How can he drive a Porsche when he's only fifteen?' Matt pushed. He was determined to get a full sentence out of her.

She looked in the distance again. ‘I'm sorry. I better go.'

‘I've heard he takes his father's car when he's not around. Is that true?'

Once again, Kelly checked to see if her boyfriend was within sight. Then, with her eyes lowered, she nodded.

The answer must have been as embarrassing as a confession because she seemed desperate to leave. Matt stepped in front of her. ‘I'm sorry about what happened at the petrol station. It's my fault you're without a lift home.'

‘No it's not. You didn't start the fight.'

‘I know, but I still feel bad that you've got to walk. I'd pay for your taxi fare home if I had the money.'

‘Don't worry. It's okay. Really.'

She backed away and Matt let her leave this time. She wanted to be alone. However, ten paces away, Kelly paused, sighed deeply then turned round. ‘Thanks,' she said.

‘For what?'

‘For sticking up for me back there. No one's ever done that before.'

Matt shrugged. ‘I was just doing the right thing. It's not funny even joking about hitting a girl.'

She glanced at him, confused, but quickly covered it up. ‘Still, thanks.'

‘And same to you for trying to stop him hitting me.'

They stood there looking at each other dumbly until Matt grabbed his gear and started to leave. ‘You live around here?' he asked, shifting his boots to his other shoulder and walking past her.

Hesitating until she realised she was the one being left behind this time, Kelly caught up with him. ‘Kind of. I live in Greenacre.'

‘Are you going home now?'

She nodded. ‘I've got a science exam tomorrow.'

Matt groaned. ‘I'm glad it's you and not me.
They're the worst. If you need some help, I can ask you questions along the way.'

Kelly questioned his motives with her eyes. ‘Don't you have a home to go to?'

‘Yeah, but my stepmother and two ugly stepsisters make me shave their legs and pop the zits on their backs.'

Kelly stopped and gawked.

‘Just joking,' he added, not expecting her reaction. ‘Nah, I'm keen for a walk, that's all.' And getting to know you better. Quiet, brain.

‘I don't know …'

‘C'mon. I know everything about Whinestein.'

‘Einstein?'

‘Yeah, him. E equals MC squared and all that. What do you say?'

Kelly thought about it for a moment then reluctantly agreed. ‘Okay.' She seemed surprised that someone was talking to her let alone wanting to help her study.

They walked through the streets of Bankstown and headed east towards Greenacre. The traffic was growing heavier as the time clicked over to five o'clock. His mum would be sitting on a bus in the middle of it.

Matt wouldn't be home any time soon though. He
was enraptured with Kelly. Wow. She was even hotter up close. Her hair smelt of coconut oil and he just loved the way she tucked stray strands behind her ears. He wondered how it would feel to bury his face in its softness. If only his heart would stop going psycho, he might be able to talk to her.

‘By the way, I'm Matthew Cassidy,' he said, offering a handshake.

‘I know. You're the footballer everyone is talking about.'

He blushed and smiled awkwardly as they shook hands.

‘And I'm Kelly Sinclair.'

‘I know. You're the girl everyone's talking about.'

Kelly's face reddened as Matt realised he'd goofed. Idiot!

‘Not that they talk about you in a bad way,' he added hastily. ‘They all think that you're a nice person, is what I'm trying to say. And funny. Yeah, funny. Or so people tell me. Not that I've met you myself. Well, not until now. But now that I've met you I think you're a nice person too … Am I making any sense?'

‘No,' Kelly answered coyly.

‘I should shut up, shouldn't I?'

She nodded, slightly amused at his bumblings.

Moron! Fool! Geek! Shut up, would you.

‘How's your back?' Kelly asked, quickly changing the subject.

Spasms of pain rekindled beneath his skin at the memory of the attack. ‘Still a bit sore, but I'll manage.'

‘I'm sorry Aaron did that to you. He didn't mean it.'

Matt's eyes narrowed. ‘How?'

‘He's stressed at the moment. It's finals time again. The talent scouts are looking for new players. Losing today didn't help.'

‘He's kidding himself, isn't he? He's the best player in the district. Clubs should be lining up to talk to him.'

‘But people are saying the same thing about you.'

‘So he's jealous?'

‘Kind of. He's not used to the competition.'

‘That's no reason to go around threatening people.'

‘There's more to it than that. He promised his dad he would win.'

Matt shrugged. ‘So he lost. My mum's seen me lose plenty of times after I told her I'd win. What's the big deal?'

‘It's different in their family. They hate losing. It's what happens when your father's the former Australian captain and three of your brothers are playing for Sydney clubs.'

Matt knew what she was talking about. Knuckles Blackwell had been one of Australia's toughest captains. He'd been the anchor of rugby league for ten years when cracking open an opponent's head was still part of fair play. He had four sons, three of whom had followed his boot marks into playing professional league. They were captains of their respective Sydney clubs or the best players in their teams. The pressure was on the youngest brother, Aaron, to do the same.

Matt changed the subject.

‘I saw you up in the grandstand today. So you're into footy, huh?'

Kelly nodded. ‘I grew up on it. My dad played three seasons with the Bulldogs alongside Aaron's dad. I used to watch their games all the time. Once I even ran onto the field after dad got injured badly in a tackle. I was screaming, “Dad! Dad!” after I saw him being hurt. The ref had to postpone the game until mum came and grabbed me. All the TV stations played it on the news that night,' she said, blushing.

‘Get out of here!'

‘It's true. I always seem to get into trouble though. One season, dad got me a job as a ball girl. I was about nine at the time. I didn't last long. All the ball boys from other teams used to get jealous. They'd say
that a girl shouldn't be able to do their job. One afternoon a kid by the name of Tim threw sand in my face. I punched him back and he bawled his eyes out. It was the last time I was ever allowed to be a ball girl.'

Matt laughed. ‘What did your dad say?'

‘He still blames me to this day. Says that's why he never got too many more games with the club,' she joked.

‘I remember seeing your dad play. He was great. He always used to split the defence with his famous side-step. After a game, I'd go down to the local park and practise that exact move.'

‘I can tell. You used it today.'

‘You saw it?'

‘Of course. Who didn't? You ran through the Lions defence as if it didn't exist. No wonder everyone's talking about you.'

‘What are they saying?'

‘That you'll be playing first grade one day. Maybe even an international.'

Matt's face reddened. The praise made him uncomfortable. He dreamed of doing exactly that but for now he was a bloke who liked playing footy.

‘Do you play any sport?' he asked.

‘I swim.'

‘Are you any good at it?' he asked, as images of her dressed in a bikini bobbed into his head.

‘I don't know. I swim for relaxation more than anything. And to be alone.'

A motorbike zipped past them and they were forced to pause in the middle of the road.

Fifty metres later, they walked up the driveway of an orange brick house with terracotta tiles and a garden full of red bottlebrushes. A television lit up the shadowy living room. Matt was surprised. He was expecting a mansion or at least a double-storey house. Kelly did go to a private school.

Metres away, an arthritic German shepherd pushed herself up from a flowerbed and lumbered towards them. Kelly crouched down and hugged the old dog with unabashed fondness. The dog returned her affection with sloppy licks and a wagging tail. ‘Yeah, and I'm happy to see you too, Gibraltar. You're always here for me.'

Gibraltar glanced up at Matt with big black questioning eyes. Matt scruffed her on the scalp and said, ‘How are you, girl?'

‘You like dogs?'

‘Yeah. I've always wanted one but I've always lived in units. They have a no pets policy.'

‘It's a pity. Gibraltar really likes you.'

After a few more pats on Gibraltar's tummy, Kelly stood up.

‘Well, thanks for keeping me company. I kind of needed it. And thanks for the help with my science exam.'

Matt smiled. They hadn't even discussed it. Probably for the best anyway. With his knowledge of science, he'd be telling her that bucky balls were what kids with bad teeth kicked around.

‘I'll see you later then,' Matt said, reluctant to leave.

‘Maybe at the Grand Slam concert,' Kelly answered.

‘You're going?'

‘Yes, everyone is. You?'

‘I hope so. My mates want me to.'

‘Good, maybe we'll catch up. It'll be great for me to know someone there. Apart from Aaron, that is.'

The mention of his name darkened the mood and Kelly withdrew into herself again. She grimaced and made an excuse to leave. ‘Nice meeting you.'

‘You too.'

Matt watched her walk inside her front door then nearly died of excitement. His hormones had gone nuclear. Man o man, what a stunner! Her eyes. Her
hair. That smile. Her body. They were delicious. If only for one taste …

Fearing he'd be seen loitering, he hurried to the end of the street, recalling every word they'd said. The last bit stuck in his mind. He'd have another chance to see her—at the Grand Slam concert. Frantically, he opened his wallet, hoping that thirty-four dollars had suddenly materialised. But if pointyheads had trouble finding black holes, he knew exactly where to find one.