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I get hardly any sleep that night. Mum has to wake me up every hour for the first few hours, to make sure I’m still alive and haven’t slipped into a coma. It’s annoying, and by three in the morning, I’m already awake before Mum even comes in.
“I’m alive, Mum,” I grumble, as I see her shadow in the doorway.
“I’m glad to hear that,” she replies. She pads into the room and sits on the end of my bed.
I thought Mum would at least wait until daylight to give me a lecture, but apparently I’m going to get it now instead.
“What happened, Alice?”
I burrow deeper into my blanket and don’t say anything.
“I don’t understand why you weren’t with your team,” Mum continues. “Your coaches should be keeping an eye on you.”
“It’s not their fault,” I mumble into my pillow.
“Sorry?” Mum asks.
I roll over onto my back. “I wanted to hit some balls after the game, that’s all.”
“Because you weren’t happy about how you played?”
I shrug, even though I know Mum can’t see me in the dark.
“Look, Alice, I know you and Adam hate when I say this, but it really is just a game.”
“But—”
“No buts, Alice. I saw the way you carried on after you got out. And I heard you arguing with Charlie. I have to say, I’m a little disappointed in how you reacted.”
I don’t know what to say to her so I don’t say anything. If I’m really honest with myself, I’m a little disappointed in myself too. I don’t know why I got so upset with Charlie getting me out, and I don’t know why I keep letting Paris get to me like she does.
“I’m tired,” I say, and roll over onto my side.
The bed shifts as Mum stands up. “I think you’re fine to get some sleep now,” she says. I hear her pad across the floor to the doorway. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“It’s already morning,” I mumble and I hear Mum laugh in the doorway.
“Get some sleep, Alice. We’ll talk more when you wake up.”
Instead of falling asleep, I replay yesterday over in my head. My dismissal by Paris and her over-the-top celebration, the run-in with Paris and her posse, and the argument with Charlie. I don’t know why Paris gets to me. Adam teases me all the time, and I don’t get upset with him like I did with Paris. Or with Charlie.
I think about Charlie and Ashley and I still can’t figure out what’s going on with the two of them, or why it bothers me so much.
Just thinking about it all makes me toss and turn, so I grab my laptop and open the links Ravi has sent through from the last few days of play. I search for our game against Charlie’s team and watch my dismissal over and over again. It really was a good stumping, I have to admit. And after I’ve watched it a hundred times, I have to admit to myself that the shot I tried to play wasn’t the right one.
I close my laptop and lay back on my pillows. I guess I can avoid Paris as much as I can for the next two days. As for Charlie and Ashley, after I accused them of cheating, I’m not sure I can fix things with them.
***
I wake up in a panic the next morning because I’ve missed my alarm. I need to get to training to show Karen that I’m fine and that I can play. I rush out to find Mum in the lounge room, reading.
“I need to go,” I say, rushing past into the kitchen to grab a banana to have for breakfast.
“You’re staying home this morning,” Mum calls to me. I go back to the lounge room.
“I’ve got training.”
Mum doesn’t look up from her book. “Karen’s given you the morning off. I’ll take you back to the team motel this afternoon.”
“No but I have to play,” I say.
“You need a break,” Mum says.
“I don’t,” I reply. “I’m fine. See?” I tap my head. “No headaches, and I don’t even have a bruise.” I lift up my fringe to show her my forehead, just to prove it. There are only two games left, and I need to play both of them to give myself the best chance of making the Possibles or Probables teams.
Mum closes her book and gives me that look that means she’s going to lecture me again.
“I’m taking you to our doctor this morning, and the tournament doctor wants to have a look at you before they give you the all clear—”
“But—”
Mum puts her hand up. “No buts, Alice. I agree with your coach. You might feel fine, but concussion is serious. You can feel fine now but have symptoms later.”
“You’d never do this to Adam,” I say. I know I’m sulking but it’s true. Adam could jump off the roof of the shed and break his arm and Mum would still let him play cricket.
Mum closes her book and lets out a breath. “I don’t know why you and Adam are so competitive. He’s not even here, Alice. This is about you.”
“You just don’t want me to play. You never have!” I turn around and storm off to the back deck. Blue is sunning himself in the yard and doesn’t move when I drop onto the steps. I pull open the banana and take a bite. Mum has always been skeptical of me playing professional cricket, and even when I got invited to cricket camp last year, that wasn’t enough to change her mind. And now I’ve made a rep team, she still can’t see that I might be good enough.
“It’s not fair,” I mumble. I stand up and put my unfinished banana on the outdoor table, and grab a tennis ball from the bucket by the shed. I walk back a few metres, line up the wickets painted on the corrugated iron, aim and throw. The ball crashes noisily into the shed, and I know it’s going to annoy Mum, but I don’t care. I pick up the ball and throw it again, harder.
I do it again and again, but Mum doesn’t come out and tell me to stop. Instead, Blue jogs over after I throw the ball for what feels like the hundredth time, picks it up in his mouth, looks at me and jogs slowly away.
“Blue! Give it back,” I say as I chase him across the yard. He doesn’t run as fast as he used to anymore, but he can still dodge well enough to stay out of my reach. “You too? Traitor,” I say. Just as I give up on getting the ball back, Blue drops down in front of me and rolls onto his back. He still has the ball in his mouth and his tongue is lolling out the side. He wags his tail once and I sigh and drop down beside him.
“You did that deliberately, didn’t you?” I say to him as I rub his belly. After a couple of belly rubs, Blue’s had enough. He jumps up and drops the ball in front of me and nudges it forward. It feels like forever since I’ve played fetch with him.
I pick up the ball and toss it across the yard. Blue ambles after it, but instead of bringing it back, he picks it up and crawls under the deck in the shade.
I shake my head at him. No-one is being fair with me today. I stand up and dust off my shorts and when I turn back to the house, Mum’s standing on the deck, leaning against the post.
“He always liked to tease you kids,” Mum says with a smile.
I don’t know what to say so I just stand in the middle of the yard and say nothing. Mum walks down the back steps and stands in front of me.
“I know you think I’m being unreasonable, Alice, but I’m your mother. My job is to make sure you’re safe and healthy.”
“I’m fine,” I reply.
“That may be so, but I just want to make sure. Okay?”
I shrug, and Mum takes that as a yes.
She puts her arm around me and leads me up the steps. “You should call Charlie and let her know you’re okay.”
It’s my turn to shrug. I haven’t heard from Charlie since our fight. “I’ll see her at the tournament later.”
“She messaged me every hour on the dot last night to check on you.”
“She didn’t message me,” I say.
“She probably didn’t want to wake you,” Mum says. “She probably got just as much sleep as you did last night.”
Maybe Charlie’s not angry with me like I thought she was. When I get back to my room, I send Charlie a text. I’m okay. Back at training this afternoon. Thanks for checking up on me. I don’t get a reply.
My phone pings with a text from Ravi, telling me about a new article on the Girls in Cricket blog. I click through the link and read it. Charlie must have written it before our argument last night because she’s only said good things about me.
And she’s good. Really good. I have time on my hands while I wait for my doctor’s appointment this morning, so I click through and read more of what Charlie’s written. I realise that she’s right. I’ve taken her friendship for granted. I know she didn’t say that, but I know that’s what she meant. I have been selfish and made everything about me.
And I may be good at cricket, but Charlie’s great at writing about it. I send her another text that says Read your article. It’s fantastic.
Again, I get no reply.