It had rained all night and the rugby field was sodden and clagged underfoot as Calli clumped across it to where the other spectators were grouped. Alison’s borrowed gumboots protected the girl’s feet from the water which hung around on top of the grass, but were too large for Calli’s tiny feet and made her walk like a duck. Fortunately Allen dropped her off at the gates on his way to get some wood from the lumber yard so she didn’t have to clump all the way from Borman Road to school. Even so, the girl kept turning around to view the paddock behind her, fully expecting her attacker to appear and snatch her or at the very least, abuse her.
The teams ran out onto the pitch and Calli instantly spied Declan’s tall frame at the same time as his eyes raked the crowd for her. He gave her a tight smile, mainly hindered by the yellow mouth guard, but he visibly relaxed as the boys grouped together in a circle. He looked muscular and athletic, easily as tank as the rest of the team despite the age gap between them. At almost six feet tall he was still growing, towering above some of the older players. Calli admired him from the sidelines, grateful it was her he searched for amongst the spectators and not the giggling group of pretty blondes who hung around the touch line ogling the teams.
The navy and red rugby shirts were fitted and the boys looked as though they were poured into them by the coach. Calli had never shown much interest in rugby, preferring the faster pace of basketball and netball, but she tried to pay attention knowing Declan might well ask her questions later. Both teams began with their respective haka, the loud, guttural shouts and violent gestures infusing the air with culture and passion. Calli had grown up around it, never awestruck like she had seen tourists and yet it still retained a heady rush of pride in the things that made New Zealand different. Declan, in his tight shirt, widening his eyes and flattening his tongue threateningly against his chin, looked every bit a part of it, the culture which his father was so proud of. Calli felt the lack of belonging keenly, Simon’s Samoan heritage now barred to her. His mother, Queenie, had sung Calli songs in her native language while the little girl snuggled on the ample knees of a loving grandmother. She reached underneath her rain jacket and touched the little brooch pinned to her sweatshirt, remembering suddenly her gran’s gentle caramel face as she fixed her piercing brown eyes on Calli and said, “God loves you, little one, never forget that. He is always only a whisper away. Call him when you need him.”
Calli smiled to herself, drawing comfort from the memory of a woman who had treasured her, despite the fact that she must have always known the truth. She started as the ball landed nearby, splatting in a puddle which collected on the surface of the field. Calli saw she was in the way and moved quickly as both teams lined up in front of her and a tall Year 13 appeared with the ball in his hands. They already looked absolutely filthy, their team colours blending in with the frothy brown mud, but Declan looked pink cheeked and happy as he sat on someone’s shoulders and allowed himself to be lifted into the air to catch the flying ball. Calli shook her head in bemusement as she struggled with it looking like a playground scrap over a ball. Clearly there were rules, but she couldn’t for the life of her work them out.
The spectators alternately jeered and whooped as the ball went first one way and then the other, pursued by thirty very filthy man-boys with nothing better to do. Declan made a spectacular try, hurling himself across the line with his body flying flat through the air, instantly buried by three other celebrating boys, who seemed to be from his own team. It certainly explained the perpetual grazes on his elbows which Calli had begun to wonder about. She started to think it was some kind of carpet burn but obviously not.
Half time came and went, followed by the teams changing ends, not that Calli could tell anymore who belonged to who, as the strips were barely distinguishable. She thought fleetingly about Jase’s PE shorts and the problems she had getting dirt and grass stains out of those, relieved he was only really interested in soccer. Then it hit her it was no longer her concern and grief crushed her in its unrelenting teeth once again.
When Calli felt the tiny hand wriggle its way into hers, she held her breath, initially believing she had conjured up the presence of Jase in her desperation. But looking down, she was greeted by Levi’s cheerful little face beaming up at her. “Look at my clapper,” he said with childish happiness, wiggling his bad leg. “It’s all fixed and Mum managed to ram it down my gumboot.”
His happiness was infectious and Calli couldn’t help but smile.
“Mum’s going out with a tosser now,” he said, a bit too loudly and a few of the spectators nearby glanced in their direction smirking.
“That’s a swearword babe,” Calli whispered, leaning down so her face was close to his. “Mummy won’t be happy if you say that in front of her.”
Levi shook his head, “No, I guess not. She wasn’t very happy when Dec said it last night. He said, ‘He can’t replace my dad - he’s a tosser.’ But actually, I think his name is probably Brian.”
Unfortunately for Calli, Levi did a wonderful impression of Declan’s deep, irritated voice and the swearword was practically shouted for all to hear, which was ironic when considered alongside the fact he whispered Brian, as though it was a banned word instead. Calli hurriedly tried to change the subject, steering towards the safer territory of the rugby game and asked Levi to explain the rules to her. He was surprisingly knowledgeable and within a very short amount of time, put her straight on a few things in his usual bold way. He was just expounding on the details of the offside rule, when interjected into the sentence were the words, “You should probably hide now. Mum’s seen us. She’s been praying against you at home-group.”
Calli thought she misheard and missed an opportunity to escape as Declan’s mother made a beeline for her, cutting around the back of the knot of spectators. “There you are,” she said softly to Levi, “please don’t run off like that.”
“You was talking,” he said, inflecting mock hurt into his voice. “And anyway, I can’t run in my clapper with the boot on top. It’s too hard. I been here ages wiv Calli because you was talking to Pete’s mum about her bad periods.”
Calli took a sharp intake of breath, cringing as a dozen people now understood why the redhead over by the touchline was sitting on a chair clutching a hot water bottle. Declan’s mother looked both cross and uncomfortable and Calli wished fervently Levi would stop poking the wasp’s nest with a stick, as it was only going to go badly for her. She wasn’t far wrong.
“So,” Declan’s mother said, drawing herself up to her full height, which gave her an enormous advantage over Calli’s slight, miniature build. “You and my son are dating.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact and Calli gulped, unable to think of a suitable reply. She hoped the final whistle would blow quickly and then she could escape back home, clopping along in her too-big-boots to the safety of Allen and Alison’s gentle embrace. Even out of uniform, Declan’s mother looked severe, her hair scraped back from her face accentuating her sharp, distinguished features.
Her face remained unsmiling as she interrogated the poor girl next to her. “You aren’t really the type of girl I imagined my son to be with,” she declared, keeping her voice low to avoid broadcasting her current dilemma to the rest of the rugby squad parents. “I believed he would wait and get with someone who shared our beliefs and had experienced the same sort of upbringing as Declan. I don’t doubt you’re a lovely girl, Calli, but it’s not going to last. His father and I didn’t intend him to have mindless dating experiences and accumulate emotional baggage he really doesn’t need. We wanted him to wait until he met the right girl, before jumping into a relationship.”
Calli remained silent, not so much angry as stunned. She could detect the warning in the woman’s tone and it seared her heart, causing desolation instead of the usual spark of rage. Declan’s mother was marking out the boundary line and in her eyes, Calli was firmly outside of it. Calli had no doubt the woman intended to make life very difficult for Declan to continue seeing her and it caused pain to begin in the girl’s chest. She went from proud, supportive girlfriend to disgusting outcast in little more than a matter of minutes. Bile rose into her throat and Calli thought she was going to vomit on the grass in front of her. If it was one of her peers issuing the veiled threat, Calli would have smacked her full in the face but this woman held Declan in her vice like grip and it buckled Calli’s resolve like thin, pliable metal. His mother hadn’t finished. She leaned in close to Calli, so only she could hear and said quietly, “He’s a good boy, with a promising future. Already I can see your influence changing him. Stay away from him. If you don’t, I will find a way to make you.”
Calli swallowed and kept her eyes downwards to try and control the tears which rose up and surrounded her eyelids, waiting for the command to shimmy down her cheeks. Drawing in a controlled breath, she noticed Levi’s concerned face pointing up at her, his own eyes sad and disbelieving at his mother’s overt threat towards someone he quite liked and knew without a doubt, his big brother loved. Bending down, Calli kissed the little boy on the forehead and whispered goodbye, turning on her heel and squelching down the field towards the front gates of the property. She didn’t look back and her stubborn, determined nature prevented her body from exercising its need to run blindly from the brown eyes which bore into her back. She walked calmly and serenely away, retaining her dignity from the back, whilst angry, bewildered tears coursed down her face and spattered her jacket.
Something else occurred to Calli on the way home, a chance throw away comment Levi made about Declan’s mother ‘praying against her at home-group.’ It was a tiny, innocuous sentence, but pieces dropped into place as Calli recalled the prayer chain message delivered in the elderly lady’s breathless tones. The son who was in need of prayer was Declan, which meant the bad company was her. Declan told her once in the bush that the God of Heaven was powerful and Calli’s heart sank deeply into Alison’s gum boots as she acknowledged defeat against that kind of might. Declan’s God already hated her, so why would he possibly allow her victory in this? She was screwed.