AUDREY

Back at home after the game, Audrey showers then plonks on her bed and leans against the pile of fluffy cushions with Honey stretched out beside her. Usually she sits with her legs folded beneath her, but today it hurts to bend her knees because of the grazes on them, so she straightens her legs out long and wriggles her bum to get comfortable.

She likes her room at this time of day. The late afternoon light falls through the window and turns everything golden. Last year, she got rid of her old stuff and made everything new. She kept the shelf for her football trophies, but changed the rest—out with the unicorn posters, rainbow curtains and pink rocking horse, and in with a rack of indoor plants, a string of lights above new curtains, a white sheepskin rug on the floor, dusty-pink doona and cushions, pale grey throw rugs. There’s also a signed poster of Sam Kerr. And Mum agreed to a new queen-sized bed so there was room for Honey. Alex got a big bed too because he’d grown so much his feet were hanging over the edge.

She snuggles among the cushions and opens her diary—a lovely notebook that she got from her nanna last Christmas. Nanna always gives beautiful presents. Not like Dad’s mum, Granny, who recycles things that other people have given her—old-people stuff, like rose-perfumed hand cream and little cloth-covered boxes that Audrey might have liked when she was five. Granny would never think to give Audrey a beautiful notebook. But this one from Nanna is special. It has a Monet water lily painting on the cover, and thick pages with gilt edges, and no dates in it, so Audrey can write as much as she likes. She writes in it every night and keeps it hidden under her mattress so her mother won’t read it.

She opens it now to write about today’s game. It feels good to get it all out—the way Braedon kept touching her and how uncomfortable it made her feel. She’d never been so happy to see someone get a red card. If she was sent off like that, she’d be devastated, so embarrassed she might die. But Braedon deserved it. And you could tell from his grin that he wasn’t bothered at all. It’s not over with him, though. It never will be. He’s the kind of guy who’ll find a way to get back at you, like get on Snapchat and talk shit about people. He always does mean stuff then acts like it’s a joke, smiling in a nice way that fools adults—that’s why he gets away with it. Right from the very first trial, she had to cop shit from him. Digs in the ribs. Accidental collisions. Nasty comments only she could hear. She’s glad the ref sent him home today. It should have happened weeks ago. She’s tired of having to put up with him. She’s glad they beat his team. And her cousin Tommy.

Next, she has to fill out her online soccer log. Her dad says it’s good to do it straight after a game, while everything is fresh in your mind. Dominik is strict about it. After every session, you have to enter three things that went well and three things to work on. She often has trouble coming up with three good things, but she always thinks of tons of stuff she needs to improve—the same things her dad is always reminding her about. Like how she has to keep working on her first touch and ball control, and how she needs better vision so she can make better passes. And how she has to try to keep her body behind the ball when it comes to her, because that helps with everything.

There are different categories you have to write under. Name of activity; session focus; personal goals; reflection. She’s part way through when her father calls her to the dining room. Dinner’s not for ages, but when Dad calls, you have to jump. That’s how it is around here.

She finishes her sentence, closes her computer, and goes to see what he wants.

He’s at the head of the jarrah dining table with an official look on his face. He waves her in. ‘Come and sit. I want to have a chat with you.’

She slides onto her chair and straight away the little voices start in her head. You didn’t play very well, you’re never going to make it, you still haven’t been chosen for the team, the others are way better than you, why did you think you could do this …?

In front of her father, there’s a piece of paper on the table, which he shifts back and forth with his fingertips. Her mouth goes dry. Is it a list of all the things she did wrong today? ‘Am I in trouble?’ she asks, unable to bear waiting.

His eyebrows shoot up. ‘Of course not! What makes you think that?’

She dodges his eyes. ‘I don’t know. I tried my best, but maybe I could’ve done better.’

‘I thought you did well, given how out of control Braedon was.’

‘You did?’ She finds the courage to look at him. Under the table Honey weaves around her legs and sits on her feet.

‘Yes, he’s intimidating. He wouldn’t leave you and Katerina alone. He seemed to have it in for you girls. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Katerina’s parents are putting in a report and I’d like to send something too. I’ve written a letter, but I wanted to hear from you first. What happened out there?’

She swallows, remembering the grimy feeling of Braedon’s hot breath on her cheek. His fingers grabbing her bum. How hard it was to get away from him. She peers at the cornice in the corner of the room, the small spider crouching up there. ‘He touched my bum … and he said stuff too. Called me the c-word and bitch and slut.’

‘Little bastard!’ her father mutters. ‘How dare he! When in the first half did that happen?’

‘Just after Tommy scored a goal.’

‘Where on the field were you?’

‘I don’t know, near the centre.’

‘How many times did it happen?’

‘Two or three times. He’s really good at hiding it. He pretends he’s walking past and then his hands are everywhere.’

Her father picks up his pen and scribbles on his piece of paper then calls her mother and Alex in, questions them about what they saw.

‘I saw what he was doing,’ Alex says. ‘And I wanted to stop him but I didn’t want to get into trouble with the ref, so I left it to Viktor. He’s already got this vendetta thing with Braedon about who’s the best player. It was pretty bad, Dad. He was teasing Audrey and getting inside her space and pulling her ponytail.’

‘What an arsehole. I’d better add that in too.’ Her father writes on his sheet of paper again.

Audrey is surprised by Alex’s support. When they were little, he used to pinch her toys and hide them from her, pull her hair, steal her Easter eggs and eat them. There was also the time he pushed her off the couch and she knocked her head on the coffee table. Blood everywhere. She still has a scar.

‘I think it’s Cody’s fault,’ her mother says. ‘He never stops Braedon from doing the wrong thing. Parents need to supervise kids, especially a troublemaker like Braedon. But Cody wasn’t even there today.’

‘He ought to have been. I’ll put that in my letter too. I want to make sure we nail this kid. I’m demanding a suspension, and I also want to request some sort of framework around letting him come back after that—including proper supervision.’ He scrawls more words on the paper, then looks up. ‘Can I read it to you?’

‘Sure,’ Mum says.

Dad clears his throat and reads. When he finishes, he scrutinises them over his glasses. ‘Is an eight-week suspension enough, or should I ask for more?’

‘They probably won’t give him more than that because he’s so young, and it’s Audrey’s word against his. Can I have a look?’ Mum reaches for the letter and scans through it. ‘This should scare them,’ she says. ‘Braedon was reprehensible and it’ll keep on happening if he’s not punished. I’m glad you’ve written this. It will force the football federation and the clubs to do something about it, given it’s come from a lawyer.’

She passes the letter to Audrey. It has her father’s name printed at the top: Benjamin Woodford, KC: LLB (Hons), LLM (Hons), and the address of his chambers. She reads carefully. Her father uses lots of big words and she’s proud of him. Hopefully one day she’ll be proud of herself too, like when she plays for the Matildas. ‘It’s good, Dad. It sounds really professional. I wish I could write a letter like this. Maybe I could be a lawyer like you.’

‘Why not?’

She basks in the warmth of his smile.

‘I’m a lawyer too,’ her mother says, standing up. ‘It runs in the family. I’m just as clever as your father, it’s just that I don’t get to do it anymore.’ She walks out.

‘Can I go too?’ asks Alex. ‘I’ve got lots of homework.’ He fakes an earnest expression, but Audrey knows he really wants to get back to gaming.

‘Sure, Alex. Go. That’s fine.’

She hands the letter back to her father, who picks up his fountain pen and signs it with a flourish.

Halfway through dinner her father’s phone buzzes and he picks it up even though phones are banned at mealtimes. ‘I have to take this,’ he says, jumping up from the table. ‘It’s Dominik.’

Honey follows him as he strides from the room with the phone pressed to his ear. Audrey stops eating to listen. What if Dominik is calling to drop her?

Alex keeps eating because he knows he’s in the team, whereas she’s been waiting for weeks to find out. She’s always trying to impress the coaches, hoping they’ll see that she’s good enough. Some days her feet are so heavy she can’t run or do clever things with the ball because everyone is always watching to see if she makes a mistake—not only the coaches, but the other players too. She can feel their eyes drilling into her. Feel them judging her. Even when she plays well, they look down on her. They think she’s less than them—which isn’t true—but sometimes it gets to her. She pokes at her steak with the tip of her knife and blood seeps out and stains her mashed potato. She was hungry before. Not anymore.

Her father returns with a lilt in his stride, Honey trotting beside him with her tail up. ‘Great news,’ he says, eyes fastening on her. ‘You’re in.’

‘How wonderful!’ Her mother reaches to pat her leg. ‘You must be so happy, darling.’

She is happy. Her smile stretches so wide her face aches. Except, isn’t it kind of second-rate to only get in because Braedon defected? She glances at her dad. He grins and winks at her, so it must be okay.

‘Good work,’ he says. ‘I knew you could do it.’

She relaxes a little. Feels even better when Alex gives her a nod.

‘Come on, then,’ her dad says. ‘Eat up.’

She digs into her steak with renewed enthusiasm. She needs protein to build muscles for running and endurance—that’s what her mother always tells her. And when it comes to stuff like that, her mother is nearly always right.

Audrey hunts for her friends among the flock of uniformed girls bustling along the paved walkways between the red-brick buildings. The smell of stale lockers and old lunches taints the air.

She likes school. The orderliness of the classroom. The tidiness of maths with its logical solutions. The satisfaction of discovering what the teachers want in humanities. The symmetry of conjugating French verbs. She likes art too—the way she gets so absorbed in drawing that time disappears. The learning and doing and testing at school are easy. But making friends and keeping them is much harder.

She spots Darcie, Pip and Georgia chatting and laughing in a tight circle outside the Year 8 lockers. Georgia leans in close and whispers something to the other girls and they all laugh even harder. Audrey’s palms go damp. Has she missed out on something? She hates being last to arrive.

She crams her bag in her locker, sidles up to her friends and pastes on a smile.

‘There you are!’ Darcie squeals, hurling her arms around Audrey. Darcie is the nicest of the three—the one Audrey’s closest to. Before Audrey became serious about football, Darcie often used to stay over at her house on Friday or Saturday night. But now Audrey’s weekends are full, so Darcie does sleepovers at Pip’s place instead.

‘Let me finish my story,’ Georgia grumbles. ‘I was telling you what happened with Max.’

Apparently, Georgia met a boy on the weekend at her drama class and he kissed her behind the curtains on the stage. Darcie and Pip hang on every word. Audrey hates it when they provide an audience for Georgia like this. Georgia already thinks she’s extra important, and this only encourages her.

‘What was it like?’ Pip asks, eyes large and round as if watching a David Attenborough documentary.

Georgia smiles, coy, then her lips draw back slightly. ‘A bit wet, actually.’

‘You tongue-kissed?’ Pip asks, aghast, twirling one of her plaits around her finger. Her mother does her hair every day. The only time Audrey asks for help is when she wants braids.

Georgia gives a superior smile. ‘Of course.’

‘Ewww!’ Darcie shudders. ‘You let him stick his tongue in your mouth?’

‘It’s not proper kissing if you don’t,’ Georgia huffs. ‘I won’t tell you any more if you’re going to make fun of me.’

‘Sorry,’ Pip says quickly. ‘I want to hear everything.’

‘Yeah, sorry,’ Darcie agrees.

Georgia turns to Audrey. ‘What about you?’

Audrey stares at her. Why should she apologise when she didn’t even say anything? She taps each of her fingers to the flat of her thumb, one after the other, then does it again, feeling prickly and wrong.

‘You have to say sorry, Audrey, or she won’t tell us the rest,’ Pip insists.

Georgia’s lips twist, and Audrey hesitates, trying to find the right words. ‘Please just tell us, Georgia,’ she says, which covers the bases, but isn’t the same as saying sorry, is it?

Georgia flicks her auburn ponytail over her shoulder. ‘You girls know nothing about boys.’

‘That’s because we don’t know any,’ Pip sighs. ‘I hate being at a girls’ school.’

‘I know lots of boys,’ Audrey says. ‘But I wouldn’t want to kiss any of them.’

‘No wonder, if they’re from your soccer team.’ Georgia’s lips curl. ‘Soccer boys are ugly.’

‘Not all of them,’ Audrey says, feeling the need to squash Georgia somehow.

‘Did you meet someone too?’ Darcie asks, gripping her arm and goggling at her.

‘Probably one of her brother’s friends,’ Georgia says, dismissive.

‘At least she has a brother with friends,’ Pip grumbles. ‘I only have sisters.’

‘Do you want to hear about Max or not?’ Georgia pouts.

‘Yes, please,’ Pip says.

Georgia stalks off, and Pip and Darcie follow, clamouring for information.

Audrey tags along too. She’s not interested in Georgia’s sloppy first kiss, but what else is there to do?

Lunchtime, in the dappled shade of the fig tree in the courtyard, Audrey sits with the girls and nibbles on her avocado and feta cheese sandwich.

‘Why are you wearing stockings, Audrey?’ Georgia asks, arranging her school dress around her knees like Cinderella in a ball gown.

‘Bruises,’ Audrey says, looking away.

‘Again?’ Georgia leans on the word. ‘I don’t know why you even play soccer. Bruises are disgusting. I haven’t had any since primary school.’

‘They disappear pretty quickly,’ Audrey points out, surreptitiously digging a fingernail into one of the bruises and registering a satisfying painful tingle.

‘Not quick enough for me,’ Georgia says. ‘That’s why I do drama. No bruises. And you can get a boyfriend, if you’re lucky.’

‘I wish I could do drama,’ Pip sighs. ‘But I already have too many activities. And I probably wouldn’t be good enough anyway.’

‘I’m going to audition for the school play this year,’ Georgia says. ‘It’s Shrek the Musical, and I’m trying out for Fiona.’

Audrey pauses. ‘Which nights are rehearsals on?’

Georgia lists the dates and, for once, it’s not the same nights as football. A thrill runs through Audrey. Maybe she could try out. She likes drama, and she’s always wanted to be in the school play. The drama teacher is really nice, and several times when they’ve had to act out a role in class, Audrey’s surprised herself and found it easy to be someone else rather than herself. But she mustn’t get her hopes up—the lead will probably go to Georgia or one of the girls in the choir. Audrey would like to be in the choir, except it’s on the same night as training. That’s what happens every year. There are a million things she’d like to do, but her father says you have to choose what you’re best at.

‘Will any of you try out?’ Georgia asks. ‘You probably wouldn’t get a lead role, but you might make the chorus.’

‘I’d love to,’ Darcie says.

‘Me too,’ says Pip. ‘What about you, Audrey? I suppose you’ve got soccer.’

‘Probably,’ Audrey says, deliberately vague.

‘That’s a shame,’ Georgia says with a smug smile. ‘Oh well. Maybe another year. Anyway, I need to buy make-up this afternoon. Does anyone want to come to the mall with me?’

‘I can come,’ says Pip. ‘And I’ve got money for ice cream.’

‘Me too,’ Darcie says. ‘Can you come, Audrey?’ She slings an arm around Audrey’s waist.

Audrey leans into that affectionate hug with a sinking feeling in her stomach. ‘I can’t. I’ve got training.’

‘You’ve always got training,’ Darcie groans.

‘I can come tomorrow,’ Audrey says, hopeful. ‘Or Friday.’

‘Tomorrow doesn’t work for me,’ says Georgia. ‘And Friday is too far away. It has to be tonight.’

Audrey sits there, glum, while the other girls chatter about the shops they want to visit: Glassons, City Beach, Sportsgirl, Mecca Maxima. They’ll get bubble-tea first, Georgia decides—peach green tea with double lychee pearls. Then they’ll look at clothes and make-up.

Audrey listens with her face frozen into a smile. She feels like a discarded Macca’s wrapper, blowing up and down in the gutter on the side of the road.

She excuses herself on the pretext of going to the toilet. On the way, she sees the poster for the play on the noticeboard and stops to look. Georgia has already written her name at the top of the audition list. She thinks she’s going to be Fiona, of course. But she’s forgotten she has to audition like everyone else. Anyone can try out for that role. Including Audrey.

With a shot of excitement, she takes the pencil from her pocket and scratches her name at the bottom of the list.

She’s in her last class for the day when the text comes through from her father. Braedon has been suspended for six weeks. It’s not enough, he says, but at least he’s being punished.

Audrey doesn’t want to think about Braedon because, when she does, she can still feel his dirty hands groping her.

She presses a fingertip into a bruise on her knee, winces at the pain, sends a text back to her dad. Good.

But it’s not that good. With sixteen teams in the league, they won’t be playing the Bears for ages anyway. She can only hope Braedon learns a lesson before they meet again.

When her mother drops them to training that afternoon, Audrey dumps her bag on the grass and sits down to put her boots on. It’s lucky they beat the Bears the other day, despite all the crap with Braedon. They ended up winning 2–1, and that’s good, because it means that tonight won’t be another punishment session.

Whenever they lose, Dominik goes ballistic at training and says it’s the team’s fault for not listening to him. You can always tell when it’s going to be bad from the way he looks at everyone as they arrive, standing there with his chin jutting, thick arms folded, dark eyes glittering. You can do it at training, he bawls, so why can’t you do it at the game? It’s always worse when there are no parents around—he’s never as nasty when there are spectators. Last punishment session, he made them do so many shuttle-runs, burpees, push-ups and sit-ups, it nearly killed them, especially since it was only two days after they’d last played. One of the players twisted an ankle and had to miss the next game. And another pulled a hamstring and had to miss two.

Today, as she pulls her boots on, she catches Katerina and Viktor shooting sly glances at her. She pretends not to notice, but the horrible knot in her stomach tightens. It’s like this every training. All day at school, she feels weak and tired, and it gets worse after lunchtime. On the way to training, she plays Taylor Swift to drown out the static in her head. But sometimes it’s hard to push everything under—her thoughts come up like popcorn. She reminds herself about the words she wrote in her diary after school: You are fast. You have good skills. You can be a champion.

As she finishes her double bows, she hears a noisy car burble along the road and sees a rusty yellow four-wheel-drive pull up in the car park. It’s the sort of car her mother would call a bomb—you don’t see many cars like that around here. Two strangers get out: a skinny, curly-haired boy in a Barcelona jersey, and a thickset, muscly man in a hoodie and jeans. They lean against the railing and survey the field.

Audrey is close enough to see the tattoos on the man’s arms, a red slash on his forehead, a thick white line on one cheek. His sharp eyes make her uncomfortable, so she jumps up, hurries to the ball-bag, grabs a ball, and starts juggling near the coaches. Tap, tap, tap, goes the ball off her boot, left foot, then right. Just her and the ball. The rhythm blocks everything out.

‘Who’s that?’ she hears Kyle say.

‘Dunno,’ says Dominik. ‘I’d better go check it out.’

She stops juggling and watches as he tucks his jersey into his tracksuit pants and strides over to the man and the boy, straightening his shoulders and pushing his belly out. ‘I’m the coach here,’ he says. ‘Can I help you?’

The man offers a hand to shake and flashes a mouthful of white teeth. ‘G’day, mate. I’m Lang. And this here’s my boy, Griffin.’

The boy smiles. He’s tall and good-looking with a faint frown between his eyebrows, a mop of floppy hair, a freckly nose and pimply chin. There’s something about him that makes Audrey’s tummy flip.

There’s something about the father too—her mum would say he looks like a crim.

Dominik hesitates then takes the man’s hand.

‘We’ve just moved up from Melbourne,’ the man—Lang—says. ‘Griff’s keen to play. I rang the club and they said to bring him along.’

A stone sinks in Audrey’s stomach. Why now, when she’s just got into the team?

Dominik rubs his nose and inspects Griffin. ‘You’ve played before?’

‘Yeah. A bit.’ The boy’s voice rings across the field, sliding up and down a broken scale.

‘Premier League?’

Lang’s mouth twists. ‘Mate, we wouldn’t be here if he was no good.’

‘All right,’ Dominik says. ‘We’ll see how it goes. But no promises. Come with me, Griffin.’

The boy ducks under the railing and lopes across the field beside Dominik. His gait is long and loose and he’s got a dopey grin on his face. Isn’t he nervous, trying out with a new team? Audrey knows she would be. Her throat tightens. She glances at Viktor as Dominik calls everyone in, wondering what he’s going to think about all this. Viktor lifts his chin and swaggers over.

They all stand in a raggedy circle while Dominik explains that Griffin will be training with them today. Viktor’s eyes are hard little rocks, and everyone else is checking out Griffin too. Nobody wants him here, including Audrey. But she also feels bad for him, because she knows how it makes your skin crawl and your stomach shrink when people stare at you like that. Griffin doesn’t seem to care, though. He smiles at everyone like a goofy puppy.

Dominik sends them for a jog around the oval, and Viktor takes off fast, setting the pace like he always does, back stiff and straight, man bun bobbing. Alex and Noah are close behind. Usually Audrey is up the front too, but today she hangs back and tries to lose herself in the group where no one can see her. Griffin bounds along, not really part of the group, but not alone either. When they pull up, puffing, in front of Dominik, he stays to the side. She accidentally locks eyes with him and his smile makes her face feel all hot. She looks away.

Kyle lays out cones and Dominik tells everyone to pair up for a drill.

Griffin stands alone, smiling and eyeing everyone hopefully. When there’s no one left, Noah goes over to him and Griffin’s face splits into a grin. Everyone starts passing to each other. Audrey knows she should be focusing on what she’s doing but she wants to watch Griffin. And she’s not the only one: everyone is watching him. Balls go everywhere.

‘Minotaurs!’ Dominik roars. ‘What the hell’s going on? Haven’t you learned anything this year?’

Good question, Audrey thinks. Sometimes she wonders why they even bother with training because they do the same things over and over. Boring stuff, always the drills and small-sided games. She wishes they could practise fun things too, like taking penalties and corners, or shooting goals.

Audrey’s partner misfires and she has to chase the ball past Katerina.

‘Can’t you pass properly?’ Katerina says loudly. ‘You’re so useless. I don’t know why they let you in the team.’

‘It wasn’t me who kicked it,’ Audrey retorts. She’d like to slam the ball at Katerina’s fat head, but Dominik is watching, so she keeps her mouth shut and dribbles back to continue the drill.

Dominik struts around, banging on about accuracy and first touch. He’s pretending to watch everyone, but Audrey can tell he’s actually only watching Griffin. He’s frowning and his bottom lip is sticking out, which is how she knows that he’s concentrating.

Griffin is definitely worth watching. There’s something about the way he moves: floaty and springy as if he doesn’t need to make any effort, as if the ground is bouncy under his feet. It’s as though he’s got a sixth sense. When Noah knocks a crap pass to him, he seems to know exactly where the ball will go and how it’ll get there.

As Audrey dribbles past the coaches, she hears Dominik mutter to Kyle. ‘Fuckin’ hell! Look what we’ve got here! A natural.’

Viktor has a sour look on his face like he always does when things aren’t going his way. He was the best in the team until today, but now everyone can see that Griffin is way better. If Griffin gets into the team, though, someone will have to be dropped, because Dominik only wants sixteen players. Audrey is terrified it will be her. She’s so flustered, she misses the ball. What will she do if she’s dropped? She can’t go back to the girls’ team.

Over at the railing, her mother frowns, probably wondering why she’s playing so badly. Audrey flings her a nervous smile. There’ll be a lecture tonight if she doesn’t get her act together. Dominik could be watching too. Maybe deciding who to leave on the bench this weekend. Audrey will die if it’s her. Her parents will be so disappointed.

‘Come on, Audrey!’ Katerina snarls as she jogs past. ‘Watch your passes.’ Katerina’s touch is hardly perfect so Audrey ignores her. But it’s hard to get things right because her stomach is wobbly and her legs have gone stiff.

They start a small-sided game. Alex passes to her, but she’s so busy worrying, she nearly trips over the ball. Everyone looks at her. They’re probably thinking how bad she is, that she doesn’t belong on this team, that she’s not good enough, that Griffin should be in instead of her. It’s written all over their faces.

‘Come on, Audrey,’ Viktor snaps. ‘Watch your touch.’ He whispers something to Katerina and they laugh.

Audrey’s toes curl in her boots. She digs her studs into the ground and twists to form a divot. If only she could make a hole big enough to fall into so she could disappear, away from all those judgemental eyes.

When play resumes, she runs along the line, sprinting like she wants the ball but can’t get there fast enough. Her dad would say she should be injecting herself into the game more, but she doesn’t want to make mistakes and look an even bigger fool. And it’s hard to focus because she can’t stop looking at Griffin. He’s so good it’s hard not to stare. If only she could play like him.

Dominik’s eyes are gleaming as if he’s found gold. He’s probably thinking of all the wins they’ll have with Griffin in the team. But he’s forgetting one thing: Griffin will be useless if nobody passes to him, and that’s already happening. He’s in a good position all the time and calling for the ball, but Viktor and his friends are totally ignoring him because they don’t want him there and will only pass to each other. It’s like that every week, only this afternoon, with Griffin, it’s worse.

But Griffin’s so good he can steal the ball off you. You think he’s just cruising, then he’s on top of you and he’s got the ball and he’s running away with it, zigzagging through the field. No one can catch him. Not Viktor. Not Noah. Not even Alex. But he’s not a ball-hog, even though he could be if he wanted to. And he doesn’t show off. He just does what he has to do and then makes perfect passes. Audrey wants to hate him, but she can’t. She’s never seen anyone so good in real life.

During drinks break, while Dominik rants on about tackling and position and structure, Audrey hunches at the edge of the team and sucks on her water bottle. She should be listening but it’s hard not to switch off. She’s heard it all before, and it’s far more interesting to watch Viktor whispering insults about Griffin, Katerina curling her lip, Viktor laughing and giving Griffin the finger. All behind Dominik’s back. Their bullshit is pointless, though, because Griffin doesn’t notice, or pretends not to. Audrey wishes she could do the same when they talk shit to her.

All the while, Griffin’s dad leans up against the railing by himself. He looks like a bikie with all those tatts. And how did he get those scars on his face? In a knife fight? Jumping through a window to escape the police? Jail? None of the other parents talk to him. They look at him, though, huddling together and shooting secret glances at him. Every time Audrey’s mother looks at Lang, her back straightens and her mouth flattens. She always says people judge you by the way you speak and your appearance. Audrey reckons Griffin’s dad looks like he says fuck a lot and youse instead of you. Her mother will be thinking he’s a lower life form—that’s the term she uses for crims: people who look like they’d be known to police. She says people like that should require a licence to have children. But Griffin doesn’t look like the son of a criminal. He looks friendly.

Dominik makes everyone switch bibs and they keep playing. He yells at anyone who won’t pass, pretending he’s talking to everyone, but you can tell he’s mad at Viktor and his mates for not passing to Griffin.

Audrey tries hard but her feet won’t speak to her body. When Alex fires a ball at her, she stuffs it and the ball bobbles away.

‘Audrey!’ Dominik shouts. ‘Do better!’

Her stomach clenches. Why does he always pick on her? She always tries her best, and that’s the most anyone can be expected to do. She’d like to tell him so, but it’s bad to backchat the coach so she stays quiet, as usual. He must realise what she’s thinking, though, because after that he’s got it in for her. He shouts at her for not being in the right place, for not calling, for not keeping her eye on the ball. And the harder she tries, the worse it gets—everything she does is a mistake.

To stay out of trouble, she slides wide, avoiding the ball. Katerina kicks at her shins and makes a face at her as she runs past. ‘Stop ball-watching.’

Griffin is on the same team. He passes to Viktor then runs down the line. ‘Hey,’ he calls to Viktor. ‘Give it here and I’ll pass back.’

Viktor turns away and passes to Katerina instead, but it’s a crap pass. Alex swoops in and steals the ball and Viktor races after him, shoves him in the back. Down goes Alex, shouting about his knee. ‘Viktor!’ Dominik roars. ‘Get over here.’

While Alex stays on the ground, rubbing his knee, Viktor slouches over to Dominik and stands in front of him, staring at the ground. He usually gets away with being a dickhead, but not today. Audrey is happy to see him in trouble for once, and she’s even happier when he has to stand out of play beside the coaches.

But she’s worried about Alex.

He hobbles over to Dominik, and then Mum comes over too, and they stand in a circle, talking about the knee. In the end, Dominik tells him to sit out and rest up and see a physio tomorrow. Audrey gives Alex a nod, then they get back to training.

At first, she’s tentative; after seeing Alex get hurt she doesn’t want to risk an injury. But everything is different without Viktor and soon the play opens up and people start passing. They laugh and enjoy themselves, even Katerina. For Audrey, it’s as if the weight has dropped off her feet. She feels like she’s dancing on air, flying after the ball, leaping to control it, taking delicate touches and making good passes. Surely Dominik won’t drop her when she’s playing like this. With Alex out, he needs an extra player. And now he can see how good she is.

One of Viktor’s mates sends the ball to her, and when she passes back, he smiles: a real smile that shines in his eyes, so different from when he’s copying Viktor. Audrey feels like a star. She knows where to be and what to do. There’s music to it. And flow. If only it was like this all the time. This is why she likes football.

Dominik is all smiles too. He and Kyle high-five each other. ‘This is great,’ he calls to the team. ‘You’re using your brains for once. More of that, please.’

Everyone gets creative and starts taking risks, trying new things.

Audrey stays wide, waiting for the ball, but the play is on the other side.

Then a voice calls, ‘Hey, Audrey.’ And there’s Griffin. He boots the ball in an arc and it lands at her feet. ‘Pass back,’ he commands.

She’s so surprised, she misses and the ball skips over the line. Her cheeks burn, but when she glances at him, he nods.

‘Don’t worry,’ he says with a smile. ‘Next time.’

When her father finds out about Viktor smashing Alex, he’s furious. He wants to call Dominik straight away, but Mum stops him.

‘Nothing can be done about it now,’ she says, pouring him a wine and setting his dinner in front of him.

Audrey keeps her distance, but poor Alex is stuck on the couch with a bag of frozen peas on his knee, Honey snuggled up on his lap. His face droops as he strokes Honey’s ears and listens to Dad going off.

‘Bloody Viktor! He’s got a rotten temper and Dom lets him get away with it. I hope he got a serious talking-to. If not, I’ll do it myself. I can’t believe it.’

‘You’ll do no such thing,’ Mum says. ‘That wouldn’t help at all. Leave it to Dominik.’

Dad takes a big sip of wine and turns to Mum. ‘What now then, Jonica?’

‘I’ve booked a physio appointment for tomorrow.’

Her father tops up his glass. ‘I should make Santos pay. But I haven’t got the energy to chase it up with him.’

‘As if that’s going to happen,’ her mother says.

Just as well, Audrey thinks. She doesn’t want him to make things even worse for her in the team.

Later she strips off her clothes in the bathroom and checks herself out in the mirror, standing tall and sucking her tummy in to make it look flat. Her boobs are getting bigger, that’s for sure. She feels weird looking at them—her body is changing so fast it’s like it belongs to someone else. She prods her boobs with her index finger: the soft nubs of white flesh bulging. Her nips are getting wider, thicker and darker, and hair is sprouting under her arms and all over down below. Georgia says she should get her pubes and armpits lasered, but Darcie says laser hurts, and Audrey doesn’t want to do anything that hurts. It was bad enough getting her vaccinations last year. So much talk and build-up in the queue, then she went all woozy and nearly fainted at the sight of the needle.

She swings sideways to inspect her bum and rubs a hand over her belly. At the end of training tonight, Griffin had pulled off his jersey to change shirts and she saw how skinny he was. Zero fat and a six-pack stomach. Why can’t she look like that? Would she be better at football if she had a six-pack?

She leans close to the mirror to examine the blackheads in the crease on her nose, squeezes them out with her fingernails. The little white worms are disgusting. She turns to check her profile, but it hasn’t changed—her nose is too big and her eyes are too small. Why can’t she have blue eyes, instead of brown? Would mascara make her eyes look bigger? Would Griffin like her better with make-up?

In her bedroom after the shower, she drops her towel on the floor, slips into her pjs and grabs her fluffy blue wallet to check her savings. Three hundred and fifty dollars from last year’s birthday and Christmas. That should be enough to buy make-up. But what sort should she buy? Foundation and mascara? When she was little, her mum used to put some make-up on her for special occasions—mascara and a touch of eye shadow and lipstick. Sometimes Mum even sat on the floor and let Audrey do her hair. She never let her experiment with make-up, though, because she said she didn’t want to look like a clown.

If Audrey had had some practice, she might know what to do now. She could use some of her mum’s make-up, of course, but she doesn’t want to look like her mother—she wants to look hot. She could ask Georgia, because Georgia wears make-up for drama productions. But she doesn’t want to give Georgia the satisfaction of acting all knowledgeable and superior. She sits on her bed with her phone and searches best ways to do make-up. Tons of YouTube videos pop up. That’s how she’ll learn.

She hears footsteps in the hall and shoves her phone under her pillow, snatches up the book from her bedside table and pretends to be reading. Her mother peers in. Audrey feels like she’s under a microscope in science class.

‘Nice to see you with a book instead of your phone,’ her mother says. ‘What are you reading?’

‘Animal Farm.’

‘I loved that book when I was at school. Are you enjoying it?’

‘It’s not the kind of book you enjoy, Mum.’

‘Maybe not, but are you finding it interesting? I can tell you all about the Russian Revolution, if you like.’

‘Not now. I’m too tired. Wait till I’ve read a bit more.’

‘I suppose you’ll have to write an essay on it. Make sure you don’t leave it until the last minute.’

‘I won’t.’

‘Anything else on at school? Any tests coming up?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Audrey lies.

‘Let’s check your diary.’

Sighing, Audrey slides off her bed, drags her schoolbag from under a pile of clothes and pulls out her school diary.

Her mother reaches for it and flicks through the pages. ‘You have a maths test on Friday.’

Audrey works to keep her face straight. ‘Yes, I know. I did some study yesterday.’

‘Good. School first, football second. I know you love soccer, but kicking balls won’t earn you a living.’

‘If I play for the Matildas I’ll get paid heaps.’

Her mother’s mouth arches into a smile. ‘Compared to working at McDonalds, perhaps. But if you want to earn real money you need a university degree and a career.’

‘Or a rich husband,’ Audrey says.

Her mother frowns. ‘Better to have a career and be independent. You get a sense of self-worth from a career. Weren’t you talking about being a lawyer the other day? You’ll have to study hard if you want to do that.’

‘You don’t work,’ Audrey points out. Her mum has been at home for as long as she can remember.

‘I’ll be going back soon,’ her mother says, leafing through the diary without looking up. ‘I’d prefer to be working.’

Audrey notices tight lines around her mother’s mouth, and a niggle of doubt coils in her stomach. Her parents have been arguing a lot lately, at night, when they think no one can hear them. She worries they’re going to get a divorce like so many other parents. Sometimes, she tiptoes down to listen. Mostly it’s just Dad raising his voice when they’re talking about politics. But other times they argue about Mum wanting to go back to work and looking for jobs.

‘What sort of work will you do?’ Audrey asks.

‘I am a solicitor, you know.’ Her mother drops the diary on the desk and heads for the door.

‘Are you going to check Alex’s diary too?’ Audrey asks. ‘It’s not fair if you only check mine.’

‘Of course I’ll check his diary.’

‘You should get him to tidy his room.’ Audrey crinkles her nose. ‘It stinks in there.’

Her mother smiles. ‘It is a bit of a cave … I should check his bag in case something’s rotting.’

‘It could be his feet,’ Audrey says.

Her mother’s lips twitch. ‘Maybe.’

‘Or his armpits.’ Audrey starts giggling.

‘Perhaps he needs stronger deodorant,’ her mother suggests. ‘Some of that glow-in-the-dark stuff.’

They exchange looks and her mother bursts out laughing. Then they’re belly-laughing together, clutching their sides with hysteria.

Until her mother stops, contrite. ‘Poor Alex and his knee, we shouldn’t be laughing about him.’

And then they’re laughing again, so hard Audrey’s cheeks hurt.

Wednesday, Dominik is on a rampage about the soccer log because not enough people have been completing it. ‘Last Thursday I told you that if you didn’t fill out every single session this week, you’d be starting on the bench this weekend,’ he blusters.

Audrey smiles because she knows for certain he’s not speaking to her; she hasn’t missed a single entry.

Alex puts his hand up. ‘I couldn’t do it because of my knee.’ Yesterday, Mum took him to the physio, and apparently it’s just a strain that should get better with rest and ice. It’s still puffy, though, and he can’t play for a couple of weeks. All he can do is a little bit of walking and the exercises the physio gave him.

‘You’re off the hook, Alex,’ Dominik says.

‘What about Griffin?’ Viktor snarls. ‘Did he do the log?’

‘When we’ve set up his account, he’ll have to fill it in like the rest of you.’

‘Good,’ Viktor mumbles, glaring at Griffin.

Audrey is secretly pleased that Griffin is bothering Viktor. It serves Viktor right. Payback for all the shit he gives everyone.

‘Why are you smiling, Audrey?’ Dominik says, startling her mid-thought. ‘You were the only one who didn’t write up last weekend’s game. And you know what that means, don’t you?’ He stares down his nose at her.

Everyone’s eyes land on her, and she goes hot all over. Katerina and Viktor smirk. And Alex shakes his head as if he’s embarrassed by her. Audrey wishes she could melt into the ground. ‘But I did it,’ she protests. ‘I wrote it up on Saturday afternoon. I wrote heaps.’

‘Well, it’s not there,’ Dominik says.

Audrey knows she wrote up that game. So why didn’t it go through? Did she forget to press the submit button? And what about all the other times she’s written up sessions and nobody else did, including her brother? Doesn’t that count for anything? A surge of fury rushes through her. It’s so unfair. She always fills in that log, and now she’s the one in trouble. ‘It should be there,’ she says. ‘I know I did it.’

‘Enough, Audrey!’ Dominik flicks a hand at her as if shaking off water. ‘You know the consequences. Bench on Saturday. Pay heed everyone, or next time it’ll be you.’

Audrey’s skin burns. She hangs her head, avoiding Dominik’s eyes, cops an eyeful of his belly instead. It’s disgusting. Who is he to judge her? He couldn’t even run a lap of the field. She glances at him and he’s still frying her with his eyes. Mortified, she peers down at her pink and white Mercurial Superfly Elite boots, flecks of mown grass on the Nike Swoosh. Tears well in her eyes. She was so excited to come to training tonight and now she feels like crying. Dad will go off at her when he finds out that she’s on the bench this weekend. And what will Griffin think of her? She flashes a look at him and discovers him watching her with kind eyes and a small smile, head tilted forward, a loose curl on his forehead. It makes her feel a bit better.

Dominik tells everyone to pair up for drills, but Audrey can’t move. By the time she finds the courage to look up, everyone has left her for dead. That means there’s only Griffin. Drawing a raggedy breath, she sidles over to him and asks if she can be his partner.

His brown eyes lock with hers. ‘Yeah, okay.’

Butterflies flip in her stomach as she and Griffin start knocking the ball to each other.

‘What was that all about?’ he asks, nodding towards Dominik.

‘It’s just this dumb soccer log we have to do. Dominik’s been getting mad at people for not filling it out. I always do it. But I must have forgotten to hit send.’

‘That sucks.’

‘Yeah, totally.’

Her body starts to loosen. She tries to play well, but it’s hard to get her touch right because she’s so busy looking at Griffin. At first, he doesn’t seem to notice that she’s watching him. And when he does, she feels herself blushing. He smiles and passes the ball back to her, but she’s so rattled, she misses and the ball runs away. She dashes after it. When she passes it back to him, his smile is still there, crinkles around his eyes. Is he laughing at her? No, she decides. He looks kind.

At drinks break, they flop on the grass while Dominik talks about plans for Saturday’s game. She’s careful not to sit too close to Griffin, but her skin is prickling. Is he watching her?

Dominik goes on about how he wants things to work in the midfield. ‘We need to be a powerhouse,’ he says. ‘If we’re going to win the game, we have to win the midfield. I want to see passing, running into space, and calling for the ball. No standing around. And definitely no ball-watching!’

Viktor scowls at Griffin. Audrey overhears him whispering to Katerina. ‘He’s a douchebag, so don’t pass to him. He’s not as good as he thinks.’

When they start playing, he slams into Griffin then lifts his palms in the air, feigning innocence. ‘Sorry,’ he mocks, ‘I didn’t see you.’ Then he does it again.

Audrey hates the sound of their bodies colliding. Griffin’s soft grunt as he falls. Viktor’s smug face. She trains okay, though. Not exactly a champion, but not a total loser either. Funny how that happens. One day you’re shit, then the next day you remember how to play again. Her father says it’s all in your head and that bad days aren’t real. They feel real, though. You get all locked up inside and forget how to do it. Tomorrow she could be crap again, but today she’s on fire … and it just keeps getting better. Her touch is great, her passes are on target, and for once everything has clicked. She can feel the others watching her. Maybe playing with Griffin has rubbed off on her. But no, she was always good, it’s just that today she’s feeling confident. Take that, Dominik, she thinks. She’s absolutely smashing it, even though he picked on her about the soccer log.

At the end of training, she does her stretches next to Griffin hoping he’ll talk to her, but he leans into a calf stretch, saying nothing. This is when Viktor or Katerina usually hassle her. Normally, they wait till Dominik isn’t looking then amble over and kick her shins or tug her laces or pretend to trip over her legs then laugh and jeer at her. Today, though, they’re staying away, and that’s good. Glancing sideways at Griffin, she asks, ‘Why did you let Viktor do that to you?’

He pauses before answering. ‘Do what?’

‘Knock you down. You shouldn’t let him get away with it. He’s a bully.’

He straightens a leg and pulls on his toes to stretch his hamstring. ‘It’s no big deal. Part of the game.’

‘He’s out to get you. If you smash him back, he’ll stop doing it.’

Griffin’s mouth twists. ‘That’d just make things worse.’

‘You should get your dad to talk to the coaches. That’ll stop him.’

‘No way. My dad would say just deal with it.’

She checks to make sure no one is listening then lowers her voice. ‘You don’t know what he’s like. He thinks he’s the boss.’

‘Well, he’s not.’

‘Who’s the boss then?’

He hesitates then looks away. ‘Dominik’s the boss. I just play the game.’

‘But you tell us what to do on the field.’

He stops stretching to look at her. ‘That’s because I know where the ball will go.’

‘How do you know?’

He pulls up bits of grass. ‘I dunno. I just do.’

‘You’re lucky. I wish I had something I’m good at.’

‘You do,’ he says. ‘Everyone does. Maybe you haven’t found yours yet.’

‘What about football?’ she says, stung.

‘You’re a good player.’

‘But not amazing like you.’

His eyes flash into hers and his cheeks flush. ‘That’s not what I meant. I have to work hard too. It doesn’t come easy.’

‘Dominik said you’re a natural.’

He looks away. ‘Maybe.’

‘I’m good at school,’ she says. ‘I can do maths and English and French.’

‘I’m crap at school,’ he admits. ‘I just wanna play football.’

‘You have to try at school, though,’ Audrey says, shocked.

‘Why?’

‘To get a job.’

‘My job’s gonna be football.’

‘What about when you’re older?’

‘I’ll always play football.’

‘But you have to get a job sometime. Even Messi has to stop playing one day.’

‘I’ll coach.’

‘What if you’re no good at it?’

‘I will be.’

Audrey shakes her head. ‘My dad says good players don’t always know how to coach. He says they do things by feel and can’t explain it.’

Griffin stares at her.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asks, anxious. ‘Are you mad at me?’

‘No,’ he says. ‘Football just comes automatic.’

She smiles. ‘That’s because you’re a freak.’

His face falls. ‘Is that what you think?’

‘No. Not really. I think you have a sixth sense.’

Griffin’s face softens. ‘Maybe it’s ball sense.’

Audrey leans closer and whispers, ‘Viktor has ball sense too. But it’s not the same kind of balls.’

Griffin smirks and looks away.

After stretches, everyone has to pack up. Griffin curves a ball across the field and it lands right next to the pile of equipment. Then he places another ball in almost the exact same spot. ‘How did you do that?’ Audrey asks, wistfully.

He glances at her slantwise. ‘I can show you sometime, if you like.’

Her breath stops in her throat. ‘Really? Can we do it after training on Thursday?’

‘Nah, I have to go home with my dad.’

‘At the game then?’

‘Nah. It’ll be too busy.’ He pauses and hitches at his shorts. ‘How about Sunday? We could meet at an oval somewhere. Where do you live?’

‘That’d be great,’ says Audrey, trying not to sound too keen.

She tells him where she lives and he nods. ‘I can ride my bike. Give me your mobile number and I’ll text you. We’ll work out a time.’

On the way home, she tries to think how to tell her dad about the soccer log and having to start on the bench next game. In the end she doesn’t have to, because Alex does it for her over dinner.

‘Why didn’t you do the log, Audrey?’ her father asks, searing her with his eyes.

‘I did it after the game, but you called me in to talk about Braedon, and I must have forgotten to submit it.’

His face hardens and her stomach churns. ‘Don’t blame me,’ he says. ‘Be more responsible. When I come to games, I want to see you play, not watch you sitting on the bench. That’s why I give up my time to help the goalies—so that you’ll get game time. Don’t let me down.’

‘I promise I won’t do it again,’ she says in a small voice. Reaching under the table, she tugs a scab off her knee and inhales sharply at the pain. Luckily her father doesn’t notice, so she sits very still, feeling the warm trickle of blood running down her leg.

When he’s gone, she dabs the blood away with a tissue then fetches a Band-Aid from the bathroom.

Later, Alex comes by her room and leans in. ‘Sorry I told Dad,’ he whispers. ‘I thought it was better for him to find out tonight rather than on Saturday. He’d be even worse then. At least this way he knows what to expect.’

He has a point, but she’s still mad at him.

Audrey sits on the grass with the girls near the fig tree at the edge of the school oval. She loves that tree: the reaching branches and buttressed trunk, the jangle of birds up in the green canopy. Sometimes she comes here alone, when Georgia is being mean and the other girls don’t stand up for her. But today all has been going well … until now, when Audrey mentions she is trying out for Fiona.

‘What for?’ Georgia says with a petulant sniff. ‘You’re not even into drama.’

‘I like drama,’ Audrey says. ‘But I’ve never been able to try out for the play because of football.’

‘Well, I’m really good at it and I don’t think you’ve got a chance. Especially not as Fiona. You don’t even look like Fiona.’

‘Neither do you,’ Audrey says. ‘Fiona is an ogre!’

The other girls giggle and Georgia goes red. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were going to audition?’ she asks.

Audrey shrugs, and Darcie pats Georgia’s arm. ‘Don’t worry, Georgia. Audrey knows you’ll get Fiona, for sure.’

Georgia relaxes, but Audrey is irritated. Why shouldn’t she try out for Fiona? And why do they always have to pander to Georgia?

She decides it’s time to mention Griffin; Georgia’s not the only one with stories to tell. ‘There’s a new boy in my team and he’s really hot,’ she says, unable to keep the smug note from her voice.

Darcie’s eyes brighten.

‘What does he look like?’ Pip asks, goggling.

Audrey can’t help herself—she makes Griffin sound like a movie star, then wonders if she’s over-exaggerating. But no, Griffin really is hot. Warmth climbs her neck and tracks up to her cheeks.

‘You’re blushing,’ Darcie says, grabbing her arm. ‘Do you think he likes you?’

‘I don’t know,’ Audrey stammers. ‘He passes the ball to me, and he talks to me.’

‘That’s nothing,’ Georgia blurts. ‘Has he kissed you?’

Audrey shakes her head.

‘Then how do you know he likes you?’

‘From the way he looks at me,’ Audrey says.

‘Has he held your hand yet?’

Audrey bows her head, shame draining the excitement out of her. She should never have mentioned Griffin.

‘Max fingered me last night,’ Georgia says in a superior tone. And the attention shifts from Audrey, just like that.

‘You’re making it up!’ Pip says.

‘No, I’m not. We went into the storeroom and kissed and then he put his hand down my pants.’

Darcie and Pip gasp, but Audrey remains silent. Georgia is probably lying. And if she’s not, she should keep it to herself instead of boasting. That stuff is private.

‘He touched my clit and it was amazing,’ Georgia says, lifting her eyes to the sky and shuddering with delight.

Darcie shrieks and clamps her hands over her ears. ‘Too much information.’

Audrey agrees. She’s never ever touched her own clit. In fact she’s not even certain exactly where it is. She stands up.

‘Where are you going?’ Georgia asks.

‘To the toilet. Lunch is nearly over.’

She walks away without looking back, and there’s satisfaction in removing herself from Georgia’s fawning audience.

Auditions for Shrek are after school in the music room. Everyone has a specific timeslot, but there’s a crowd of girls waiting among a mountain of schoolbags. Audrey sits with Georgia, their backs pressed to the wall. Georgia is one of the first to go in. When her name is called, she stands up and smiles nervously at Audrey.

‘Break a leg,’ Audrey murmurs—isn’t that what you’re meant to say?

Georgia’s face crumples. ‘I’m really scared.’

‘You’ll be fine.’ Audrey is surprised that confident Georgia is no longer invincible. She watches her friend shuffle into the music room. When the door closes, Audrey discovers she’s not nervous at all. Maybe that’s because, compared to football, the audition seems like nothing.

Ten minutes later Georgia comes out, white-faced and quiet. Audrey jumps up to greet her. ‘How did it go?’

‘I don’t know. I can’t tell. I was terrified.’

‘Well, if you were terrified, I’ll be paralysed,’ Audrey says. ‘I won’t even be able to sing. I’m sure you were great.’ She slings an arm around her friend and Georgia leans against her, shivering. ‘Maybe you should go home,’ Audrey suggests. ‘There’s no point hanging around.’

‘What about you? I should stay.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll be okay.’

Georgia’s eyes well with tears. ‘Sorry I’ve been such a bitch lately. I’ve been so nervous. I really want this role.’

‘I know you do,’ Audrey says. And she really does know.

When the drama teacher calls her in, Audrey’s throat tightens and her pulse gallops. She stands up, wondering if she might faint. The drama teacher sees her and smiles. ‘Come on, Audrey, we’re ready for you.’

In the music room, all the chairs and music stands have been pushed into one corner to make space around the piano. A tiny old woman with silky grey hair is seated at the piano. ‘I want you to meet Mrs Smith,’ the drama teacher says to Audrey. ‘She’s going to be our pianist.’

The older woman looks up and gives Audrey a beautiful smile, and Audrey feels all the tension melt away.

‘You’re trying out for Fiona, aren’t you, Audrey?’ the drama teacher says, handing her a script. ‘We’ll get you to start here.’ She points at a highlighted line.

Audrey swallows. The tight feeling is back in her throat. But the pianist catches her eye and nods slightly, and Audrey feels safe again. She reads the lines in a bold voice, making sure to use plenty of inflection so she doesn’t sound boring. Once she gets going, she’s surprised how easy it is. She pictures Fiona in the Shrek movie—the loose, happy way she moves, the big toothy ogre smile. She tries to mimic that smile and realises, part way through the reading, that it’s far more fun to be an ogre than a princess. And far more fun to be an ogre than her ordinary self!

When she finishes, she peers at the drama teacher. ‘Very good, Audrey. You’re a bit of a dark horse, aren’t you?’

She’s not sure what that means, but it seems the teacher expects her to agree, so she nods.

‘Now, we’d like you to sing some of Fiona’s opening song for us,’ says the teacher. ‘Mrs Smith will accompany you.’

The little pianist smiles at her and plays a few chords on the piano, touching the keys softly and thoughtfully as if waiting for Audrey to steady herself. Audrey watches her fingers tinkle across the piano, like a butterfly picking out the melody. ‘No rush,’ she says quietly to Audrey. ‘Take your time and nod when you’re ready. Don’t forget to breathe.’

Audrey closes her eyes, inhales deeply and tries to relax her shoulders. Then she looks at Mrs Smith and nods. Mrs Smith maintains gentle eye contact and strokes the piano keys with her fingers. Then Audrey is singing. Her voice floats up and around the room.

They let her sing for quite a while, then the teacher holds up a hand. ‘Thank you. That will be enough for now, Audrey. You can go now. Thanks for auditioning.’

Then it’s over. She can’t really tell how it went, except that Mrs Smith is nodding and smiling. And it feels good, it really does. She feels like she nailed it.

The door opens and a crowd of expectant girls looks up at her. She steps over all the bags on the floor, grabs her schoolbag, and heads out to the turning circle where her mother will be waiting.

She feels light and happy, as if gravity has released its hold on her. She’s always wanted to be in the school play, and maybe this time she can. Maybe she’s good at this.

On the last day of term, Audrey invites Darcie to come to the mall with her after school, but Darcie has to go home and pack because she’s flying to the Gold Coast with her family to visit the theme parks. Dreamworld. Movie World. Sea World. Wet ’n’ Wild. Audrey wishes she could go too, except she can’t, because she has a football game every weekend during the holidays.

No one else can come either, so she goes alone, even though she’s not supposed to. She has to change buses twice. Her mother doesn’t like her hanging around at bus stations, but she doesn’t have to wait long, and she keeps an eye out for weirdos. Luckily there are none.

At the mall, she goes straight to Mecca Maxima with its bright lights, large windows, and rows and rows of make-up. It’s packed inside, so she lingers near the door, peering at all the women and girls who look as if they’re straight from a fashion blog. Girls in tight tops and ripped jeans. Bare bellies. Hair all smooth and blonde. Audrey’s mouth goes dry. They all look so much more sophisticated than her. They’re carrying black plastic baskets filled with glittery boxes. She’s in her school uniform and doesn’t even know what to buy.

Eventually, she inches into the shop and slinks among the displays, pauses in front of a cabinet of lipliners, eyeliners, lipstick and lip gloss. How will she choose?

‘Excuse me!’ A young black-haired woman with perfect, sculpted cheeks, luscious lips and enormous lashes reaches past her and grabs a lipstick from the Mecca Max range. Audrey shrinks out of the way.

‘This is the best,’ the woman declares to her friend who is similarly polished. ‘Liar Liar. Have you tried it?’

‘I like nude,’ says her friend. Light hair, dark roots, bow-lipped. ‘I use Skimpy.’

The sweet scent of their perfume washes over Audrey as they drop their spoils into their baskets and drift away. Audrey leans forward and carefully extracts a stick of Liar Liar from the display. It’s pink but not too strong. She takes a box of Skimpy too, and holds it in her clammy hand while she chooses eyeliner. The Mecca Max brand is cheapest; liquid liner in black. Then she selects mascara and an expensive palette of eye shadow.

It takes ten minutes in the queue to reach the cash register, where she hands over nearly two hundred dollars of her savings.

On the bus home, her mother calls. Audrey tells her she’s still with Darcie. After she hangs up, she opens her pink Mecca Maxima bag to examine her purchases. Turns the sparkly boxes over in her hands. Pulls out one of the lipsticks. She can’t wait to try it out, but she feels bad about the story she told her mother. Her mum won’t mind about the make-up, but she won’t be happy if she finds out the truth about Darcie.

Audrey puts the lipstick back in its box and squirms when she looks at the label again. Liar Liar.

Saturday morning, first day of the April school holidays, Audrey wanders around the house with a stone in her stomach. She tries to eat breakfast but feels like she’s choking. It’s like this before every game, but worse today because she has to start on the bench.

She rushes to the toilet. Guts cramping, she sits on the loo, scrolling through Instagram. Big mistake. A video pops up of Katerina doing ball tricks—around the world, a rainbow, holding the ball on her foot or on the back of her neck. Audrey can do those tricks too, but she can’t string them together one after another like Katerina. Her thumb hovers over the screen. Should she like it? If she doesn’t, she’ll be the only one from the team who hasn’t. Even Alex liked it, and that hurts. Why is he following Katerina anyway?

Her stomach spasms as she scrolls through the comments. Flames and hearts and clapping hands. It goes on and on. They’re all such suck-ups. Audrey refuses to like it.

Back in the kitchen, she rinses her bowl and slots it in the dishwasher. Her father emerges from his office with some sheets of paper in one hand, textas in the other. ‘Dining room, Audrey. I know you’re starting on the bench, but we should still have our little talk.’

The stone in her stomach grows heavier. Do they really have to do this every week?

She picks up the dog and follows her father to the table, where he drags out a chair and waits for her to sit, inspecting her with eyes sharp and shiny as an eagle. She tucks Honey on her lap.

‘Put the dog down so you can concentrate,’ he says.

Reluctantly, she sets Honey on the floor and watches her trot out of the room.

‘You’re playing the Tigers today,’ her father says, twiddling a texta between his fingers. ‘When Dominik lets you go on, you’ll need to go hard. They don’t give up easily.’

She peers at him attentively, because she knows he likes it when she seems interested. ‘Do you think we can beat them?’ she asks.

His face lights up. ‘Good chance if you play hard and stay calm. They’re hotheads, and they’ll say all sorts of rubbish, so you have to make sure you don’t listen.’ He draws a large rectangle on a piece of paper then adds a goal at each end and marks one with a cross. ‘This is your goal.’ He taps the texta on the paper. Then he draws a stick figure and says, ‘If you’re playing right wing today, this will be you.’ Despite her heavy stomach, she smiles to herself; he’s so crap at drawing.

He draws a circle to outline her area of play then a series of arrows to demonstrate different attacking scenarios. She nods and keeps her eyes on the paper because she knows that’s what he expects of her.

‘Okay,’ he says. ‘What if Dominik decides to play you in defence instead? What should you do when the Tigers striker has the ball?’

Audrey tries to think. ‘Push him wide so he can’t shoot?’

‘Good. What else?’

She stares at the paper. ‘Pass down the line, not into the centre?’

‘Excellent. What else?’

She sucks on a hank of hair and squeezes her eyes half shut. ‘Tackle?’

‘Yes, but not in front of goal. This lot dive like submarines, and if you bring a player down, they’ll beg for a penalty. They’re Hollywood actors.’

He drones on about overlapping and positioning and opening out and other technical stuff, until eventually she switches off.

When he’s finished, he tells her she’ll do well. But how can he know? She might be on the bench for the whole game, especially now that Griffin is in the team. ‘I’ll do my best,’ she says.

He pats her shoulder. ‘I know you will. And don’t forget to go through your list.’

She forces a smile. Her father’s list lives on the fridge under a Nike magnet.

AUDREY’S PREP LIST

Warm up and stretch

Think positive

No ball-watching

Stay in position

Run into space

First to the ball

Eyes up

Call for the ball

First touch

Tackle

No princesses

Every week, she looks at that list and wants to tear it up. What does her father mean by ‘no princesses’? And where’s Alex’s list? Why doesn’t he have one?

In the kitchen, she tugs the stupid list off the fridge and the magnet falls to the floor. She picks it up and turns it over in her hands. Under the Nike Swoosh it says Just Do It.

If only it was that simple.

At the Tigers home grounds, Audrey stumbles from the cramped back seat of her dad’s Porsche, and shivers in the wind. The sky is patched with clouds and the maple trees along the edge of the car park are turning golden.

She trails Alex across the tarmac to the change rooms under the grandstand where the walls are cold and echoey. Her belly is a hard little ball and she feels like vomiting. All the way here, her father kept giving her encouraging smiles in the rear-view mirror as though somehow it would help. It only makes things worse.

In the change room, even though Alex is still a bit down about his knee, he yells hello to everyone. All Audrey can manage is a trembling smile. The reek of boys and boots and deodorant makes her feel sick. She pulls off her tracksuit pants and perches on a bench to put on her boots, tying her laces slowly so she doesn’t have to talk to anyone. Clods of mud with neat holes in them drop to the floor from the underside of her boots and she swipes them under the seat, out of sight.

Viktor barges in, grinning, and everyone crowds around him shouting ‘Happy Birthday’. He turned fourteen yesterday, but you wouldn’t think so—his brain has a long way to go to catch up with his body. Audrey hates the way Katerina skips around him like a goat, butting him with her elbows while he laughs and pats her on the head. Audrey would never suck up to him like that, not even so that he would pass to her.

In the corner, Griffin watches the others and smiles. He catches Audrey looking at him and his eyes brighten. She wonders how it’s possible to feel hot and cold at the same time.

Dominik looms in the doorway and everyone goes quiet. He reads out the starting list. Griffin is first. Then all the usuals. Audrey is on the bench, as expected. She’s not the only one—there are three others as well, including Alex. She glances at him and wonders if she looks as glum as he does. It sucks being on the bench—you don’t get to warm up with the starting players because you have to fire balls at goalies. This doesn’t make sense to Audrey. Everyone should warm up properly. Otherwise, if you haven’t honed your touch, how can you play well?

The starting players cluster together, chatting and joking. Katerina is among them, which she shouldn’t be, because her game’s been off. She catches Audrey looking at her. ‘What are you staring at?’ she sneers.

‘Nothing.’

She sashays over to Audrey. ‘You think you’re so good, don’t you?’ she hisses. ‘But we all know you’re not.’

Audrey glances at the others, and luckily nobody’s looking, so she gives Katerina the finger. Katerina’s lip curls and she pretends to lose balance and stumbles into Audrey, shoving with her hip. Audrey crashes sideways into the bench.

‘Ooops, sorry,’ Katerina says.

Audrey feels like hitting her, but the others are watching now, so she clenches her hands into fists and looks down at her boots. Sees the Swoosh again. Just Do It. Yeah, right. How can you do it if you’re not even on the field?

When the ref blows his whistle to start the game, Audrey tucks herself up on a chair in the technical area and wraps her arms around her legs. She feels like a dog tied to a kennel. It’s boring to watch when all she wants to do is go on. And it’s so unfair of Dominik to pick on her. If only she was one of his favourites, like Viktor, who never does the log, then writes three words and gets away with it. Yet here she is on the bench and Griffin has taken her place on the field.

Soon, though, she can’t help sitting up and watching. The Minotaurs are playing like champions. Passing. Moving into space. Giving the Tigers the run-around. How is this possible? she wonders, trying to see past Dominik.

At first, it’s hard to work out what’s going on, what the difference is. Then she sees it. The Tigers run like crazy but look slow, while Griffin cruises through like he’s doing nothing when he’s really doing everything. He gets the ball but never holds on to it. He floats into space and the ball meets him there. He bounds around like he has springs on his feet. He spreads the ball everywhere, passing, blocking, tackling, giving the ball to everyone else in the team, including Viktor.

Viktor can’t seem to see the opportunities Griffin sets up for him. With a permanent scowl on his face, he takes the passes from Griffin, but won’t pass back. Instead, he passes to his mates, even if they’re in a bad position. What’s wrong with him? He should be using Griffin to get goals. Maybe he’s too stupid.

‘Come on, Viktor,’ Griffin calls, frustrated. ‘Pass back.’

Viktor hogs the ball and the Tigers nearly score. Dominik goes apoplectic and threatens to take him off, which would be good for Audrey because then she might get to go on. She waits, ready to whip off her bib. No such luck, though. Viktor glowers and grumbles but Dominik leaves him on.

Griffin tackles the ball from a Tigers player and passes to Katerina, but she dribbles as usual and loses possession.

‘Come on, Minotaurs!’ Dominik shouts. ‘Be ready for Griffin. Katerina, no more mucking around.’ He turns and mutters something to Kyle, and hitches at his balls, right in front of Audrey. She winces.

Griffin passes to Viktor again and this time Viktor sprints onto the ball, lines up and slams home a goal. He jams his fists in the air and everyone piles on top of him. Audrey jumps up and shouts along with the other players on the bench. She watches Griffin stroll over to Viktor, grinning, and offer a high-five. Viktor stares at him then walks away. Audrey can’t believe it. What a dick! But after that the other players start looking for Griffin even though Viktor tells them not to.

By half-time, they’re up 3–nil and she can’t wait to get out there. In the change room, during Dominik’s half-time chat, she waits for him to say she’s going on. He’s busy scribbling on his whiteboard, drawing arrows and suggesting strategies.

‘Are you listening?’ he shouts at the team, rubbing his nose and rearranging his balls again. ‘We need to stay on the attack and shut the Tigers down. Take possession of the whole field. Follow?’ He glances at Griffin, a gleam in his eyes. ‘Good work, mate. You had the Tigers scrambling out there.’

Griffin gives a small nod, and that’s all. No smirking. No cocky looks at other players. If it was Viktor, he’d be rubbing it in.

‘Okay,’ Dominik goes on. ‘I want you all to get the ball to Griffin.’ He gives Viktor a meaningful look. ‘Our back line needs to be a shield to hold out the enemy. Our front line has to be ready to overpower them and fire the ball into the net. And our midfield needs to consolidate around Griffin and maintain the attack. Stay in formation. Defend the wing. Take no prisoners. Got it?’

Audrey is desperate to get out there. But what if she’s on the bench again? What if Dominik doesn’t give her a chance?

Finally, when they’re outside and ready to go on, he nods at her. She’s on at last and that’s all that matters. She chucks the bib at Katerina and dashes onto the field, yearning to share the magic she saw in the first half. But after sitting on the sideline for so long, it’s hard to find her rhythm. She dives in too quickly, mistimes her touch, overshoots with the ball.

Viktor roars at her when she misses a pass. ‘What the hell are you doing? Stop being so bloody hopeless.’

She cowers at the criticism, but won’t let it get to her. She can do this; she knows she can. You are strong, she tells herself. You have good skills. You can be a champion.

Noah makes a run down the line and passes to Griffin who controls the ball with a perfect touch.

‘Audrey,’ he yells. He points down the line on her side, and she sprints, breaking free of her defender. The ball flies off Griffin’s left foot and lands just ahead of her. ‘Time,’ he yells. ‘Look up.’

Three long strides and she finds her balance and meets the ball with her right foot. It rockets off her boot, over the head of the Tigers goalie and into the net. She leaps in the air, punching the sky, fireworks bursting inside her. The team packs on, shouting, crushing her, even Viktor.

She catches a glimpse of her father at the end of the field with the Minotaurs goalie. His wide smile. Her mother waving from the stands. But as she pulls free, it’s Griffin she looks for. His brown eyes and smile. He could have taken the shot himself, but didn’t.

As she walks back to her position, a Tigers player shoves her from behind and knocks her down. ‘Oops, sorry,’ he scoffs, stepping over her and sauntering away.

Griffin is there, reaching a hand to help her up. ‘Watch out for dickheads,’ he says, grinning and releasing her. ‘And hey … good goal.’

She smiles and bends to brush the mud from her knees.

Sunday, Audrey spends half an hour in the bathroom getting ready to go to the oval. She tries her hair in a ponytail. Then tries plaits. In the end, she decides on a bun. It’s tricky to roll her hair up and make it stay on top of her head. Eventually she’s happy with it. She pulls out a few strands so they curl down each side of her face, then smiles at herself in the mirror. She looks really feminine. Now for the make-up.

She traces the line of her lids with the eyeliner, finishing with a wing at the corner, just like on the YouTube clips she’s been watching. Then she applies mascara to make her lashes look long and voluminous, like the label says. Her eyes look pretty. It’s not as hard as she thought it would be.

When she’s finally ready, she grabs a ball from the wooden box on the back porch, and scoots through the house, calling to her mother from the front door. ‘I’m going to the oval.’

Her mother appears from the lounge room, holding a copy of The New Yorker and wearing a quizzical frown. ‘By yourself?’

Audrey angles her face away so her mother won’t notice the make-up. ‘Alex’s knee is still sore so he can’t come. I just want to practise my juggling.’

‘Can’t you do it in the backyard?’

‘It’s nicer down at the oval. The grass is softer.’

‘What about lunch?’

‘I’ll have it when I get back.’

‘How long will you be?’

‘Maybe an hour.’

She ducks outside and closes the front door before her mother can fire off any more questions. With the ball tucked under her arm, she walks down the street. It’s a beautiful autumn day. Her step is light. She feels like singing and dancing.

At the oval, the smell of warm grass hangs in the air. She looks around for Griffin, but he’s not there. He might be running late—it’s only just eleven thirty.

Nearby, she can see a woman with pale blonde hair walking a smiling Golden Retriever, its tail waving like a banner. Down the far end of the field, two long-legged boys are practising sprints. She walks a lap, startling a flock of galahs that lift into the air, shrieking in a mad flap of wings.

At the end of the lap, Griffin’s still not there. She plonks on the grass out in the middle—surely, he’ll see her there. But she doesn’t want to look like a loser, so she gets up and starts juggling. He’d be impressed by that, wouldn’t he? It’s hard to concentrate because she’s distracted about the idea of seeing him. Then the rhythm kicks in, and her touch is perfect. Maybe she can set a new record. Juggling is better than worrying about whether he’ll turn up.

Ten minutes later, still no Griffin. And no message either. She stumps around the oval again, booting the ball at some magpies who hop and flutter out of her way. Will he come? Has he forgotten? She doesn’t want to send a text because that might look desperate.

Fifteen minutes. Then twenty. And still no Griffin. How long should she wait before she goes home?

Another lap, then she stops and slams the ball at the high wire fence between two fields. It hits the wire with a satisfying twang then rebounds. She sprints to stop it, dribbles a short distance, spins, and slams it at the fence again. Thwack!

She sits on the grass and watches the galahs weeding, pulling up bits of dirt. Another five minutes and she’s just about done. Then she sees someone pedalling madly across the oval, bike jerking side to side. No helmet. It must be Griffin.

She stands up and prepares to say goodbye and that she’s just leaving, but as he approaches, his face is so torn with angst she instantly forgives him.

He pulls up, puffing, and dumps his bike on the ground. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he gasps, dragging the back of his wrist across his sweaty forehead. ‘Dad went on a bender last night and woke up in a shit mood. Made me wash his car before I could come.’

‘Why didn’t you text me?’

‘He took my phone. Look.’ Griffin tears off his backpack, rips open the zip and upends the bag to discharge its contents. Out falls a worn-looking soccer ball, a red plastic drink bottle, and orange football boots smudged with mud, nothing else.

‘It’s okay,’ she says. ‘I’m still here. But I was about to go home. You’re half an hour late.’

‘Half an hour? I got here as fast as I could.’ He’s so distraught, he’s almost in tears.

‘How far did you have to come?’

He flushes and looks away. ‘I dunno. Five or six k’s?’

‘Where’s your house?’

‘Dad and me live in an apartment a few suburbs away.’

‘I thought you said you lived close.’

He meets her eyes with a shy smile. ‘I really wanted to see you.’ His smile deepens. ‘That was some goal yesterday. What a kick! You don’t need lessons from me.’

‘You set it up.’

He kicks at the grass. ‘And you put it in. You deserved it.’

‘My first goal of the season.’

‘I reckon you’ll score more.’

She laughs, tension seeping out of her. ‘Did you see Katerina? She couldn’t believe it.’

‘What’s up with her?’ he asks. ‘Why’s she got it in for you?’

Audrey snorts. ‘I don’t know. She’s always like that.’

‘I reckon she’s jealous coz you’re smarter and nicer than her.’

Audrey averts her eyes, her cheeks suddenly warm. No one’s ever said anything like that to her before.

For the next ten or fifteen minutes, they kick balls to each other, semi-fun, semi-serious. Griffin shows her how to position her body to get more power into her shots. ‘Don’t forget to follow through,’ he says, demonstrating and making it look easy.

They’re soon hot. Griffin offers his water bottle and, without thinking, she wipes the pop-up spout with her jersey before drinking. He laughs. ‘Scared of germs?’ When it’s his turn to drink, he makes it obvious he’s not planning to do the same.

They collapse on the grass and relive yesterday’s game. A 6–1 win in the end. When they run out of talk, Griffin rolls on his back and squints at the sky, using his arm to shield the light.

Looking down at him, Audrey notices a shadow of fur on his lip. A space between his front teeth. A slight dimple in his chin.

‘Sorry for being late,’ he says, squinting at her from behind his hand. ‘Dad’s a dickhead sometimes.’

‘He’s all right, isn’t he?’

‘I s’pose I have to say yes. He’s my dad.’

‘Does he hassle you about football?’

‘Nah. Doesn’t have to. I love it so I’m always trying to get better.’

‘Me too. But I’m no good.’

He props himself up on one elbow. ‘That’s not true. You made it into the team. And look at that goal you scored yesterday. You’re better than most of the boys.’

She digs her fingers into the soil, bashful. ‘Do you think so?’

‘Yeah, I do. They’re full of shit and they think they’re better than they are. But you’ve got actual skills.’

She sees the seriousness in his eyes. ‘I try hard, but I’ll never be good enough,’ she admits.

‘For what?’

She pauses. ‘I don’t know … for my parents.’ She pulls out a handful of grass. ‘They say I could play for the Matildas if I wanted to.’

His brow crinkles. ‘You could, but it’s hard to get to the top.’

She looks at him. ‘What about you?’

He sits up and runs his fingers over the grass as if stroking an animal. ‘I want to get a contract overseas, so I’ve just got to keep working.’

‘Does your dad help you with training?’

‘A bit. But, nah … he’s more into league. He used to play. He was fast.’

‘Is that when he got his tattoos?’

‘I don’t know. He got most of them before I was born.’

Audrey’s parents hate tatts and they call it ‘thugby’, not rugby. ‘He must be proud of you,’ she says.

Griffin snorts. ‘Only when he’s at the pub.’

‘That sucks.’ Her parents never go to the pub.

‘Yeah, he’s always there when he’s not working.’

‘What kind of work does he do?’

‘Truck driver. Carts gravel.’

Her friends’ parents are lawyers, bankers and doctors. Some of them own their own businesses. ‘What about your mum?’ she asks.

He looks away. ‘She’s a cleaner. Lives in Melbourne with my sister. She and Dad got divorced. That’s why me and Dad came up here.’

‘Do you miss them?’

‘Not really. They always fight. And my sister’s a bitch. Your parents seem really nice.’

‘They’re not,’ she scoffs.

‘Your dad’s good with the goalies. He seems decent.’

‘I bet your dad’s decent too.’

Griffin sniffs. ‘Not after he’s been on a bender.’ He lies back on the grass, folding an arm under his head like a pillow and looking up at her. ‘What did you do to your eyes?’ he asks. ‘They look nice.’

She smiles. It’s the make-up—but she’s not telling him that. She reaches playfully to hit him and he grabs her wrist and tugs her down beside him on the grass. They lie side by side on their backs, holding hands. His fingers are warm and he holds her hand tight. She’s not game to look at him.

‘See the clouds?’ he says. ‘See how fast they’re moving? Must be windy up there.’

She peers at the clouds, but from the corner of her eye she can see his chest rising and falling. He shifts his fingers to lace with hers and they lie there, gazing up at the sky. Her breathing is light and feathery. She doesn’t want this to end.

Then her phone rings. She knows she should answer it, and when she lets go of his hand and sits up, the magic is gone.

‘Where are you?’ her mum says. ‘You’ve been gone for ages. It’s way past lunchtime.’

‘I’ll be home soon.’ She doesn’t want to go but she rises to her feet, grabs her ball, and waits awkwardly.

Griffin stands too and drags his bike up by the handlebars. ‘So you really have to go?’ he says.

She feels shy. ‘My mum wants me to go home for lunch … But maybe we can meet another time, if you want.’

‘That’d be great,’ he says.

He smiles and she sinks into his eyes. The magic is back. She watches as he straddles his bike and takes off.

‘See you at training,’ he yells over his shoulder.

She grins to herself and dribbles the ball across the oval towards home.

At recess, first day back at school after the holidays, Audrey gathers with a crowd of girls at the Year 8 noticeboard where the cast list for Shrek will soon be posted. Georgia, quiet and pale-faced, stands beside her, while Pip and Darcie chatter away to each other.

When the drama teacher finally emerges from the staffroom holding a sheet of paper, Audrey’s palms go sweaty. She glances at Georgia who keeps clearing her throat and straightening her school dress.

The teacher pins the sheet to the board then turns to smile at them, shielding the list with her body. ‘Try not to be too upset if you didn’t get what you wanted,’ she says. ‘We’ll find a way for all of you to be involved. There’s backstage, lighting, make-up, set design. And just remember, there’s always next year.’

The teacher steps back and everyone crushes forward to look. Carried by the tide, Audrey feels bodies pressing up against her, Georgia in front and Pip squished up behind. It’s worse than jockeying in front of goal when someone’s taking a corner. She can’t get close enough, can’t see past Georgia’s head, the brisk irritated flick of her ponytail. Then a murmur reaches her and people turn to look at her. Incredulous gasps. Gaping mouths. She is Fiona.

She grips Darcie’s hand. Can it be true?

Georgia glances at her, stricken, then stumbles away, weeping as if there’s been a death in her family.

‘Poor Georgia,’ Darcie whispers.

Yes, poor Georgia. But Audrey can’t suppress the fizz of elation mounting inside her. She feels as if she’s levitating.

Pip and Darcie rush off after Georgia, and space opens around Audrey. Girls ogle her with new respect in their eyes. She almost laughs. She’d thought playing in a boys’ team would make other girls look up to her. And it has, but nothing like this.

What will she tell her mother tonight? This is me, she will say. I made it into the Minotaurs and now I’m the lead role in the school play. She’ll be equal with Alex, for once. Things come easy to him—he’s popular and everyone likes him and he’s good at everything—whereas she has to work hard to be good at things: football, school, keeping her room tidy, being nice. She imagines her mother’s eyes lighting up with pride when she finds out about the play, the same way she looks at Alex. The approving smile.

Floating on air, she moves forward to look at the list. There’s her name. Right at the top. FIONA: Audrey Woodford.

Then her eyes are drawn to an announcement in capital letters at the bottom of the sheet. Change of rehearsal times. She doesn’t even have to read the new times to know she’s done for. She whirls around, pushes through the group of girls, and dashes off to cry in the toilets.

At lunchtime, she speaks to the drama teacher to see if rehearsals can be shifted back again. ‘I’m really sorry, Audrey,’ the teacher says, ‘but we had to change things for the pianist. Something’s come up in her family and she couldn’t stay with the original plan. I’m sure you understand how critical her availability is to the performance. It’s a very big commitment.’

Audrey understands, of course she does, because her life is all about commitment. But she feels sad, so sad. She thinks about lovely Mrs Smith with the fly-away silver hair and soft patient smile. How wonderful it would have been to sing to her beautiful music! But that’s over now. To have landed the lead role, and then have it stolen away from her! How can she be with her friends anymore? She’ll have to see Georgia’s smug face—because Georgia was named as understudy, which means she’ll get the lead now and be completely unbearable. People will forget about Audrey in a nanosecond. She won’t be on the program. And she can’t even join the chorus.

When her mother picks her up after school, Audrey can’t hold back her tears. She coils herself up in the passenger seat, and weeps. It’s as if something is breaking inside her. All that possibility and now nothing.

Her mother wraps warm arms around her and holds her close. ‘Oh darling, what’s wrong?’

Audrey can’t speak because all the words are jammed in her throat.

‘Did someone die?’ her mother asks tentatively. ‘Somebody’s mother or grandmother?’

‘No, Mum, not that.’ Audrey almost chokes on a sob. How does her mother always manage to make her feel so much worse? ‘I got the lead in the school play but then they changed rehearsal times and now it clashes with football so I can’t do it anymore.’

‘Do what, sweetie? Soccer?’

‘No, Mum. The school play!’

‘I didn’t even know you were auditioning.’

‘That’s because I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think I’d get in. But I got the lead. I was so excited when I found out. I thought you and Dad would be so proud of me. And now it’s not happening.’

‘We are proud of you, sweetheart. You’re such a good little soccer player and you try so hard. And that’s amazing that you got the lead role. It would have been wonderful.’

‘They’re doing Shrek the Musical and I was going to be Fiona, the ogre.’ She leans against her mother’s shoulder and weeps.

Then she realises her mother is shaking. Is she crying too? No. Her mother is laughing.

‘That’s so not funny, Mum,’ she wails. ‘How can you be laughing?’

Her mother covers her face with her hands, vibrating with laughter. ‘I’m sorry, Audrey, but when you said you were going to be an ogre, it got to me, because you look like one right now! We all do when we’re crying.’

Audrey sobs. How can her mother be so mean?

Her mother dabs at Audrey’s face with a handkerchief to wipe the tears away. ‘I’m so sorry, darling. That was an awful thing to say. I really do feel bad for you. Perhaps you can try out again next year. You’re already busy enough this year with soccer.’

Audrey sniffs and withdraws, pushes all her emotions back inside. ‘It’s football, Mum. Not soccer. When will you ever learn?’

‘I always get it wrong, don’t I?’ her mother says. ‘Let’s go and do something nice together. Shall we go and get an ice cream?’

‘That’d be great,’ Audrey says. But an ice cream won’t fix it.

That night she pulls out her diary and writes.

Told Dad about getting the lead role in the play and he wasn’t even excited. He didn’t even give me a chance to tell him what happened with rehearsal nights before he asked whether it clashed with training. And then he was impatient with me when I burst into tears. I mean, he must think I’m stupid. I know football comes first. As if I would have even tried out for the play if it clashed with training! It’s so unfair that I got so close then had to give it up. Imagine how good it would have been if I could have done both. And it so nearly happened. Why do I always have such bad luck? Why can’t things work out the way I want them to?

Wednesday, Mum drops them early to training then heads off to a dentist appointment. Dominik is out in the middle of the field by himself, bent over the kitbag with his bum in the air. Where’s Carmen? Audrey wonders. Isn’t she supposed to be here? She suggests to Alex that they go and help, but he plonks on a bench in the stands to play on his phone till his mates arrive.

Audrey hesitates before traipsing across the field. She’s never felt comfortable with her coach, it’s hard not being one of his favourites. ‘Hi, Dominik,’ she says. ‘Can I help?’ 1 + 1 = 2, she tells herself. If she does this, she might win his approval and get more game time. Isn’t that how it works?

He glances up, a sheen of sweat on his brow, blackheads at his temples. He smells of BO mixed with Omo.

‘Can’t find my phone,’ he grunts, shuffling a hand around in the bag. ‘It’s gotta be here somewhere.’ He draws out a clipboard and tosses it aside with a few battered cones, a broken watch and a roll of electrical tape. She notices the thick coat of black hair on his arm, the cords of purple veins inside his elbow.

‘I can have a look if you like,’ she offers.

‘Be my guest.’

She unzips her backpack to shove her phone in, then squats to inspect Dominik’s bag, rummaging through the contents. There’s so much stuff in there she can’t see anything. ‘Can I empty it out?’ she asks.

‘So long as you put it all away again.’

She shakes the bag and out drop several deflated balls, a ball pump, a stained blue towel, a leaky pen. Beneath it all, an old iPhone with a cracked screen. She holds it up and his red lips spread into a grin.

‘You’re a champion, Audrey.’

‘Is there anything else I can do?’ she asks, shovelling everything back in the bag.

‘You could set out the field,’ he says, woolly eyebrows arching upwards.

She takes an armful of cones and stomps around the field, laying them on the grass while Dominik writes in his yellow notebook. From time to time she calls out, ‘Here?’ And he waves and nods, with an appreciative smile. A surge of warmth pulses through her. This is how it’s done.

Then she notices Carmen and Katerina at the edge of the field. As they march across she keeps her head down and pretends not to see them, but as they draw near, she hears them talking.

‘What’s she doing?’ Katerina says. ‘It’s my job to help Dominik.’

‘You can do the nets instead.’

‘I hate the nets.’

‘Practise your tricks then. But do it close to Dominik.’

They greet Dominik with slick smiles, and stand there, laughing and chatting with him. When Carmen goes to unlock the storeroom, Audrey catches Katerina scowling at her, so she looks away and gets on with setting up the field.

When she’s finished, she returns the last of the cones to Dominik’s bag, hoping for praise. But he’s distracted now, and barely looks up as he mutters thanks and tells her she’s a good girl as if she’s a dog.

Now she needs her bag so she can get ready for training, but there are bags everywhere, all mixed up together, stuff strewn all over the place. She hunts for the pink ribbon tied to the handle, finds it at last and drags it from the bottom of the heap. She must not have closed it properly when she put her phone in there, and, as she lifts, it the bag yaws open and half of her gear falls out. She digs around for her shin guards but can’t find them, so she goes through her bag again. They’re not there. Where are they? Her mother just bought new ones because the elastic in her old ones had gone floppy. She’ll be furious if Audrey’s lost them.

‘Looking for something?’ Dominik asks, noticing her now when he barely acknowledged her before.

She squints up at him. ‘No, everything’s fine,’ she lies.

‘That’s good,’ he says. ‘I like my players to be organised.’

Full of dread, she hurries over to Alex who is warming up with his mates—his knee is fine now. ‘Can I check your bag?’ she asks. ‘I might have put my shin guards in there.’

‘Hope not,’ he says. ‘I don’t want to catch girl germs. But, yeah, check if you have to.’

Katerina and Viktor are near the bags, bouncing balls off their heads and hooting with laughter. Audrey shoves bags aside, trying to find Alex’s with the soccer ball keyring on the zipper. She tugs it out and rifles through the contents. Her shin guards aren’t there either. She grunts in exasperation.

‘What’s wrong?’ Katerina asks.

‘I can’t find my shin guards.’

‘Oh no,’ Katerina says in a loud singsong voice. ‘Audrey’s lost her shin guards.’

Shut up, Audrey thinks. Just bloody shut up.

Dominik peers up from his notebook, mouth flattening. ‘Is that true, Audrey?’

Mortified, she’s forced to say yes. ‘Can I train without them just this once?’ she pleads.

‘We wear shin guards for a reason,’ he growls. ‘No shin guards, no play. You’ll have to stand here with me.’

While everyone warms up, she’s stuck beside him, burning with shame. She fumes at him for being so mean after she just helped him. At herself for losing her shin guards. At Katerina for being such a bitch and making a public announcement about it.

When everyone does drills, she has to help Carmen with the nets, and that’s even worse. Carmen has a shiny knowing look in her eyes, like a kookaburra waiting to steal meat from your barbecue. It makes her feel small.

All session, she has to run around and fetch balls. She gathers cones and lays them out again, collects stray balls for the goalies. Griffin looks at her with kind eyes, but it’s humiliating being Dominik’s slave while everyone else gets to train. She wears a fake smile to disguise the lump lodged in her throat, while underneath she’s swinging between fury and tears.

Then she hears her father’s Porsche rumble into the car park. He’s here to work with the goalies and he’ll be livid when he sees she’s not training. She straightens her back and braces for the onslaught.

He fries her on the way home. What do you have to say for yourself? Where are your shin guards? Why the hell can’t you be more organised? Is this the best you can do? Don’t you take football seriously?

She tries to defend herself, but he talks over the top of her.

He parks in the garage and she races into the house to check her room. The shin guards are not in her cupboard. Not under her bed. Not in the laundry. Not on the back deck. Not in the ball box. Not anywhere. Problem is, she needs them because Dominik will check at their next session.

She musters the courage to tell her parents she can’t find them. Mum is serving dinner in the kitchen and Dad is at the bench reading the Financial Review. They both look up as she comes in. Her father glowers when she tells him the bad news, then the grilling starts. Did you check the car? Did you check your bag properly? Did you check Alex’s bag?

Audrey picks at a quick on one of her fingers while she answers his questions. She shivers as the skin snags and a bead of blood wells. Hides it by slipping her hand in her tracksuit pocket.

‘Let it go now, Ben,’ her mother says. ‘It’s been a long day. Let’s eat. I’ll buy another pair tomorrow.’

But her dad is as persistent as Honey with a chew toy. ‘We’re not made of money, you know,’ he gripes. ‘Someone will need to drop everything and go the mall. Don’t you think we have better things to do, Audrey? Maybe you should stay home this weekend instead of going to the coast tournament.’

Audrey holds her eyes wide so the tears don’t come spilling out. She really wants to go to the tournament. She and Griffin have been talking about it: four football games in one day. ‘I didn’t mean it,’ she says, trying to keep her voice steady. ‘I don’t know where they could be. Maybe somebody took them. I can pay for new ones if you like. I can go to the mall after school and miss training.’

‘No—you are not to miss training.’

‘I don’t mind going to the mall,’ her mother says.

Her father huffs. ‘So long as Audrey promises to look after her things from now on.’

‘I always take care of my things,’ she says in a small voice. She feels like she’s dying inside. It’s so unjust. It’s Alex who’s forever losing things, and he never gets in trouble for it. She fights the dam of tears pressing behind her eyes, holds her face still, trying to imagine an invisible shield around her body, her father’s words like arrows bouncing off.

‘Are you going to say sorry?’ her father says.

‘Of course I’m sorry!’ she shouts.

‘Now you’re overreacting,’ he says.

‘That’s enough, Ben,’ her mother says. ‘You’ve made your point more than once, and I think she’s got the message. Kids do lose things, you know.’

But it’s too late. Audrey whirls and charges to her room, tears in free flow.

In her room, she tugs her diary from under the mattress, grabs a pen and starts writing, pressing the ballpoint hard into the soft paper.

I HATE Dad. He’s so mean. It’s like he doesn’t know me at all. I mean, as if I would lose my shin guards on purpose! He must know it was an accident. But he doesn’t care how upset I am or that he’s hurt my feelings. I was already feeling shit for having to watch training. And then he had to go on and on at me like I’m a five-year-old. I wish he’d just shut up. Doesn’t he know he’s making me hate football?

In a rage, she tugs off her football socks and hurls them on the floor. There’s a bulging blister under the big toe on her right foot. She pierces it with a fingernail and releases the clear liquid, flinching at the pain. But she doesn’t stop there. Agitated, she rips the skin off, wincing as she tears into fresh flesh.

It’s weirdly satisfying to hurt herself. But she can’t drip blood all over her doona or her mum will have a go at her.

She drags open a drawer in her bedside table and scrabbles around for a Band-Aid.

When her mother calls her to dinner, Audrey refuses to come out of her room. She doesn’t want to be anywhere near her father, and there’s dark satisfaction in shaking her head when her mother comes to the door.

Honey slips around her mother’s legs, gallops across the room and launches onto the bed, straight into Audrey’s arms.

‘I’m not hungry,’ Audrey says.

‘Of course you are. You haven’t eaten since afternoon tea.’

Audrey presses her nose into Honey’s soft fur and hugs her close. Honey is the only one who understands her. She wishes her mother would just go away.

‘You can have your dinner in here, if you want,’ her mother says.

Audrey shakes her head again. ‘No thanks.’

Later that evening, though, her stomach grumbles and she sneaks out to eat something. The lights are off in the kitchen, but she knows her way by instinct. She gropes for the fruit bowl on the bench and peels a banana.

She can hear the murmur of voices in the lounge room. The door is ajar. She creeps close to the crack of light and listens.

‘Why are you so hard on her?’ her mother is saying. ‘You don’t put so much pressure on Alex.’

True, Audrey thinks.

‘He doesn’t have the same potential,’ her father says. ‘He’s good, but there are dozens of kids like him. Audrey’s different. She’s got the skills; she just doesn’t believe in herself. The problem is in her head.’

This hurts, but is possibly also true.

‘If that’s the case, do you really think pushing is going to help?’ her mother asks.

‘Mental toughness can be learned,’ her father says. ‘And it’ll help with so many other things in life.’

‘Maybe that’s just who she is,’ her mother protests. ‘I’m worried that it’s no fun for her anymore. The girls’ team wasn’t perfect last year, but this season feels like a constant battle.’

‘She’ll be fine. She needs to be pushed a bit to get involved sometimes.’

‘That’s not true. She auditioned for the school play without any encouragement from us. She needs space to breathe, Ben. That was too much tonight. You were over the top.’

‘You don’t understand the pressure I’m under,’ he retorts. ‘I’ve got so much on at work, and I’m trying to carve out time to help with these damned goalies, and then the kids let me down by losing things. It’s frustrating.’

‘Of course it’s frustrating. I hear you. But that’s kids! And going off at them like that doesn’t help. Next time, hold it in and go for a walk. Why are you in such a bad mood tonight anyway?’

There’s a long silence.

‘Santos made some comment about you and Miles always being together, always talking.’ Her father’s tone is offhand, but there’s weight in it—Audrey can feel it.

‘What rot!’ her mother says hotly. ‘I have to talk to someone at training—I spend so much time at that goddamned field, and Miles is the only one there with half a brain. I can’t imagine having a conversation with Santos. Is that what you’d prefer? Ha! And men say women are gossips!’

‘No. It was just a strange comment, that’s all.’

‘Well, it’s rubbish, Ben. I can’t believe you would listen to it. I’d be very happy for you to go to training instead of me. Then I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone, and that’d be fine.’

Another silence follows, in which Audrey tries to remember whether she’s noticed her mother talking to Miles. It’s true that she does chat to him sometimes, but she talks to other parents too. Except Carmen, who she only speaks to when she has to.

‘Also, Ben,’ her mother goes on. ‘I wanted to let you know that I’ve started looking for a job.’

Her father snorts. ‘We don’t need you to work. We’ve got plenty of money.’

‘It’s not about the money. It’s about intellectual stimulus. I want to feel like I’m doing something useful, making a contribution.’

‘Bringing up kids is a contribution.’

‘Yes, of course. But I’ve done that for nearly fourteen years and now I’d like you to help me find a way back in. Even if it’s only part-time. All I need is a toe in the door and a few clients …’

He clears his throat. ‘It’s not tenable at the moment, Jonica. Didn’t you just say we need less stress, not more? You know how full-on a solicitor’s work can be … or have you forgotten?’

‘That’s the whole point, Ben. It’s been too long. And I’m going to do this whether you like it or not.’

‘Sure, go ahead,’ he says. ‘I wish you luck. Talking about it is one thing. But getting a job and actually doing it is another thing altogether.’

Her mother laughs ironically. ‘You know what, Ben? I used to think it was you holding me back from returning to work. Then I realised I was actually afraid that I wouldn’t be any good at it. But now I see that it was both. Here I am, finally ready to take the plunge, and you won’t even back me. Thanks so much. It’s nice to have your support.’

Audrey hears the bitterness in her mother’s tone and her heart beats wildly. It sounds like they’re really going to break up this time. She can’t bear to listen. She tiptoes back to her room, feeling worse than ever.

Later, when everyone is asleep, Audrey slips from bed and pads barefoot through the house: pink leather slippers in one hand, phone in the other. She slides open the back door and steps into the silvery night, past the pool, over the damp grass and past the tennis court to the back of the yard. Here, she tugs on her slippers, sinking her feet into the faux fur lining, thinking of her father’s disgust that her mother would buy cheap crap from Target instead of proper Ugg boots. I’m not paying a hundred and fifty dollars for kids’ slippers when they wreck them and their feet grow too quickly, her mother had said.

The gate in the Colorbond fence creaks as she lets herself through. She closes it slowly, hoping that Honey doesn’t hear and start barking. Luckily, the house remains quiet.

Beyond the fence, the land falls away into the bush reserve. When they were little, she and Alex often used to play down here. Now he’s too busy gaming and never goes outside anymore. But Audrey still comes here. Especially when she’s upset and her world is imploding.

She switches on her phone torch and flashes it at the bush, casting stark shadows. Light shines back at her from silvery leaves. It’s a little spooky down there: clumps of dark vegetation like old men hunching their shoulders. She points the light at the ground and finds the faint track that plunges through the scrub and down a bank onto the walking path.

When she’s on the path, she feels better. The bush sighs around her as the breeze shivers through. She hears a loud crack deep in the gully. It’s only a stick falling, she tells herself. Not a murderer out to get her. She holds her breath, listening intently, just to be sure. Insects chirrup in the foliage and the scrub whispers and moans. The squeak of branches rubbing together, wood on wood. But she’s alone. Not another soul out there.

She treads along the path in the halo of light cast by her phone torch. The railing glimmers where concrete steps lead steeply into the gully. As she descends, a large hummock of pancake-sandstone rock rises beside her. She straddles the railing then edges along a ledge to a rocky overhang where she perches on dry sand and turns off her torch.

The night grows large around her. She can hear the sound of water trickling among rocks somewhere below. The air wraps around her like a cloak, but she’s not cold, rather, she glows in it. Often, she comes here to cry, but tonight she simply wants to be in the night and the darkness. There’s solace in that. She doesn’t have to be anything for anybody.

Minutes pass and she melds with the night, all the pain settling.

Eventually, she hears a soft yipping noise from the tall ghostly tree that rears from the gully and stretches into the sky, which is scattered with stars and a faint aura of light.

From high up in the branches, a small shape launches and soars to another tree. A flying garden trowel. A little sugar glider with its gliding membranes undulating in the pale light.

Audrey’s seen this creature before. A tiny miracle. She can’t believe that people in America keep them as pets. How cruel to keep a sugar glider captive in a cage or house! How they must miss that feeling of flying through the forest at night, arms and legs extended, catching air beneath their gliding membranes like a small parachute.

She hears a small thud then a rustle as the glider lands on another tree trunk then scuttles up and along a branch and away.

When it’s gone, she sits in the spaciousness of night. If only she could be like that glider. Weightless and free.

In the morning, Audrey shuffles into the kitchen, feeling exhausted. Usually, her father has already left for work, but today he’s still at the bench, drinking coffee.

‘Morning, Audrey,’ he says.

‘Morning,’ she mumbles, avoiding eye contact.

‘Want to know why I’m still here?’

She doesn’t really care.

‘Got a text from Dominik this morning,’ he says. ‘He found some shin guards last night. Are these yours?’ He holds up his phone to show her a photo.

She nods. ‘Where were they?’

‘Under his bag, on the field. Isn’t that good news?’

She stares at him, blinking sleep from her eyes. The shin guards must have fallen from her backpack and got mixed up with Dominik’s stuff when she was helping find his phone last night at training.

‘I want to apologise,’ her father says. ‘I was tired last night. I’ve got some big cases on at the moment and I’m under a lot of pressure and finding it hard to fit everything in. It makes me impatient. I’m sorry.’

Audrey stares at him and feels nothing. His words sound hollow. He’s probably only apologising because Mum told him to. All he really cares about is how well she does on the football field and whether she’s lost her shin guards. It’s not like he wants to understand her or get to know her as a person.

He stands up and spreads his arms for a hug.

After all the things he said yesterday, she doesn’t want his hugs. But she doesn’t have a choice—he wraps his arms around her and she tries not to stiffen like a robot.

On the way to the tournament, Audrey sits in the front with her mother. It’s a long drive so it’s lucky they had the bye this weekend and could leave early. Audrey’s not sure she’ll survive, though, because Noah is in the back with Alex. If only the boys could have gone with someone else so she and her mum could have girl time. But her dad had work to do, so he isn’t coming at all, and Noah’s dad, Miles, will arrive later, in time for the team barbecue.

That means that not only does Audrey have to put up with the stink of two boys for four hours, she also has to listen to them. And right now, they’re talking boy-shit as usual. She wishes she could have brought Honey for company, but dogs are not allowed in the holiday park, so Honey’s staying with Granny and Grandpa.

‘You’re looking very ugly today,’ Alex says to Noah in a hoity-toity voice.

‘So are you,’ Noah replies in the same tone.

‘Must be that beautiful beanie you’re wearing,’ Alex says.

Noah pats his misshapen black beanie, chunks of hair poking from under it and falling over his eyes. ‘I like this beanie. Messi would appreciate a beanie like this.’

‘No, he wouldn’t,’ Alex scoffs.

Audrey agrees, but doesn’t say anything. Who would waste time talking about a stupid beanie?

‘Of course he would,’ Noah protests. ‘Messi has good taste, like me.’

‘Good skills, you mean,’ Alex chortles. ‘Way better than yours. But he’d never wear a beanie like that.’

‘Why not?’ Noah says. ‘This is a very valuable beanie. Very expensive. Not even Messi could afford it.’ He pulls off the beanie and throws it at Alex.’

‘If it’s so valuable, why are you chucking it at me?’ Alex snorts, tossing it back.

‘Because I want to choke you with it.’

‘My throat’s here.’ Alex yaws his mouth wide and points down his gullet. ‘Don’t you know anything about body parts?’

Noah sniggers and bucks his groin off the seat. ‘I know all about body parts.’

The boys fall about laughing. Audrey can’t believe they’re so juvenile. She rolls her eyes at her mother who smiles in obvious agreement.

‘You’re wrong about this beanie,’ Noah says. ‘Messi would want it because he’s clever and he’s the best.’

‘Nope. Haaland’s the best now. Messi’s getting old and soon he’s going to die.’ Alex closes his eyes, crosses his arms, and pretends to be dead, muttering, ‘I am Messi. Bury me with my ball, my one prized possession.’ He starts humming the death march.

‘Messi won’t die,’ Noah says. ‘My dad says he’s immortal.’

‘Haaland’s way better looking,’ Audrey puts in, unable to hold back.

‘It’s not about looks,’ Alex says. Then to Noah. ‘If you’re talking the best, you can’t forget Maradona.’

‘But he couldn’t play total football like Messi. So that means Messi’s the best.’ Noah thrusts a fist in the air. ‘Yessss! Case closed, your Honour.’

‘Pelé won the most World Cups for Brazil,’ says Alex.

‘But Qatar was Messi’s World Cup,’ Noah shouts. ‘And Suárez won in Brazil for the most bites.’

‘Suárez is a vampire. Not a footballer.’

‘You’d better not bite me out on the field,’ Noah says.

‘Yes! Yes! Bite! Bite!’ Alex flops against Noah, pretending to fang him. Noah kicks the back of the driver’s seat, trying to escape.

Audrey sees her mother’s head jerk.

‘Enough, boys! We’ll have an accident if you don’t stop distracting me.’

Audrey flings a condescending smirk at the boys then smiles sweetly at her mother. There’s much to be said for female solidarity.

At the caravan park, she helps unload the suitcases and dumps them on the floor of their cabin, which is high on a hill overlooking the sea. It’s a chalet, actually—that’s what the lady in reception called it. But it’s not exactly luxurious, with its crappy, faded blue furniture and curtains. Audrey crinkles her nose. It smells of disinfectant and tacky air freshener. In the bathroom, someone has folded the last square of toilet paper as if it’s a five-star resort. But this place is not five-star, and she would know—a few summers ago they had a family holiday in Singapore and stayed at the Marina Bay Sands hotel.

Outside, she crimps her bare toes in the cold grass and fills her lungs with salt air. It’s actually really nice here. A bit cold, but there’s lots of open space and a good view of the ocean.

When everything is unpacked, Alex and Noah disappear to find their mates, leaving Audrey alone with her mother. ‘Let’s go and see Aunty Claire and Freya,’ her mum suggests. The Bears are playing in the tournament too, and they’re staying in the same caravan park. But Audrey doesn’t want to be with the mothers and her little cousin, she wants to hang out with Griffin.

‘No. I’ll just have a look around,’ she tells her mum.

She takes off on a recce of the holiday park. Down a side road, she sees Uncle Darren kicking a ball with Tommy who spots her and waves, his face lighting up—he’s always nicer when Alex isn’t around. She waves back and veers off on another road before Uncle Darren sees her. She doesn’t want to get caught fraternising with the enemy.

She finds Griffin on the far side of the park, pitching a tent. He’s wearing an old brown knitted jumper with holes in it, raggedy jeans with rips in the knees, dirty old runners. Her mother would say he could use some new clothes, but Audrey doesn’t care. He’d look good no matter what he was wearing.

His dad, Lang, sits bare-chested on a folding chair near the old yellow four-wheel-drive, drinking a can of VB. Audrey can’t work out why his shirt is off when it’s not even hot. She can’t help staring—she’s never seen so many tattoos. A coiled snake on his chest. A seal-woman on one shoulder, and, on his other shoulder, an angry-looking creature with beak and wings and a lion’s body and claws.

Lang catches her looking and grins. ‘Just getting a bit of sun, luv. No law against it. Want to have a look?’ He taps the winged creature with a finger. ‘This one’s for Griffin.’

She shifts, uncomfortable.

‘Leave her alone, Dad,’ Griffin scowls. ‘And cut the drinking. I don’t want you getting pissed in front of my friends.’

Lang leans back, crosses his legs at the ankles, tips his head back and laughs, exposing a row of neat upper teeth.

‘I mean it, Dad,’ Griffin grumbles. ‘The talent scouts are coming tomorrow, and I don’t want you ruining my chances.’

Lang sits up, cocks an eyebrow. ‘Talent scouts, hey?’

Audrey hadn’t heard about this either.

‘Yep. That’s what Dom said.’

Lang’s nostrils flare. He sets his beer down and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Have to be careful then, won’t I? Don’t want to get in the way of your football career.’

Griffin rolls his eyes.

‘Don’t make fun of it, kid!’ Lang points a finger at him. ‘Your career’s going to earn us a fortune, so don’t stuff it up.’ He stands, lights a smoke and wanders off, leaving his beer behind.

Griffin grabs a rubber mallet and whacks a peg into the ground with such force Audrey is afraid he’s going to break something. ‘He’s such a dick!’ he growls, face hard. ‘Sometimes I hate him.’

She picks up the pegs and follows him around, handing them over, one at a time, for him to bang in. Then he unzips the tent and they lay out bedrolls and lumpy sleeping bags.

‘Shitty tent,’ he says when it’s done. ‘Hope it doesn’t rain.’

‘It doesn’t look very comfortable,’ she admits.

‘Won’t get much sleep, anyway. Dad snores like a pig when he’s drunk.’

‘What about the talent scouts? Don’t you need a good sleep?’

Griffin glances at her slantwise. ‘Don’t even know if they’re coming. Dom said they were, but who knows if it’s true. I said it to stop Dad drinking. And it worked. Scared the shit out of him.’

Audrey struggles to hide her disappointment. Talent scouts might have noticed her too. ‘I hope they come,’ she says. ‘I want them to see you.’

‘Got any ear plugs?’ he asks. ‘Reckon I might need them.’

Audrey helps her mother make a salad then carries it to the picnic area on a grassy knoll overlooking the sea. When she sees all the people milling around the barbecues under the rotunda, she hesitates. Everyone is talking and laughing. Lots of mothers and fathers, and also kids she doesn’t know, brothers and sisters who normally don’t come to football. Her heart kicks at the thought of having to talk to people. She should have realised it would be whole families, not just the team. Some of the players are wearing team tracksuits, and she’s in jeans and a T-shirt with a hoodie tied round her waist. Should she go back and change? No. People have already seen her.

She hangs back as Alex leads the way towards the barbecues where the smell of charred meat hangs in the air. He’s the man of the house tonight, so it’s his job to cook the steaks. He weaves among the crowd as if it doesn’t even bother him. Why can’t I be like that? she wonders, looking around. She feels like an alien.

She places the salad on a large picnic table with all the other food—chips and dips and crackers, bread rolls, tomato sauce, cold chicken drumsticks, other salads—then peers around, trying to decide what to do, who to talk to. Her mother sets up a chair next to Miles, who’s just arrived, and pours herself a glass of wine. Dominik cruises around with a beer in his hand, smiling and shaking hands with all the parents as if he’s their best friend. Everyone seems to have someone to talk to, except Griffin’s dad, who is like her: all alone. He stands apart from the others, arms folded, clutching a beer in one hand, nestled in the crook of his elbow. She watches him take a swig—perhaps he’s forgotten about the talent scouts. He winks when he catches her looking at him and her skin crawls.

She looks away and wanders over to the barbecues to help Alex, who is searching for some space to squeeze the steaks in. The hotplates are crammed with meat: kebabs, chops, sausages, hamburger patties. Viktor’s dad, Santos, snaps the air with his tongs, waves Alex away and takes over. Alex slopes off, leaving her stranded. She swings from side to side, watching Santos sear the steaks, smoke rising from the burnt flesh.

The Minotaurs are part way down the hill, sprawled on the grass. Audrey knows she should join them but feels sick at the thought. She doesn’t want to make a spectacle of herself going over there, but she has to do it. She grabs a handful of carrots, a dripping can of Coke from the esky, then trudges across the hill, trying to work out where to sit.

Katerina is with Viktor and his mates, bantering with them like brothers, leaning up against them as if they are furniture. Audrey envies her confidence. She can’t imagine feeling that way with any boy other than Alex. Not even Griffin, and he’s the nicest guy she knows.

She flops on the grass and pretends to be busy on her phone. She notices Viktor bum-shuffling towards her with a slimy smile on his face. What’s he doing? As he approaches, she shrinks away, but he moves right inside her space, so close she can smell the sharp scent of his deodorant and see the pimples on his cheeks, the dark spots of shaved whiskers on his chin.

‘Hey, Audrey,’ he says. ‘How ya doin’?’

She cringes from him—his breath smells like cockroaches. ‘Good thanks,’ she says. ‘How are you?’

He grins, black eyes shining at her. ‘Thanks for the assist last weekend. I scored a pretty cool goal. Lined it up and nailed it in, top right-hand corner. Pretty fucken good, hey? Goalie had no clue.’

Viktor never thanks anyone, so she figures he must be after something. His eyes wander to her chest and his grin spreads wider. ‘Wanna go for a walk later?’ he says, winking. ‘On the beach. Just you and me?’

She’d rather be dead than walk on the beach with him. ‘No, I’m all good, thanks.’

His smirk transforms to a leer. ‘Knew that’s what you’d say. You pussy!’

He stands up and swaggers back to Katerina and his mates, and they all turn to look at her, their laughter burning her skin. She feels like a steak on the barbecue: raw on the inside, scorched on the outside. She needs to find someone to latch onto. Griffin is with Alex and his mates. Would Alex mind if she joined them? Stuff him, she thinks. He’ll just have to deal with it. He casts her a look as she tacks herself onto his group but she sits cross-legged and pretends not to notice.

Griffin gives her a small smile.

The other boys pause and stare at her for a long moment, then go on talking. Apparently, tomorrow’s draw has just been posted.

‘We’re versing a local team first,’ says Noah. ‘The Flames.’

‘They’ll be easy,’ says Alex. ‘My dad reckons there’s not much talent down here because there’s not enough players to choose from.’

‘But we always play bad against easy teams,’ says one of the boys.

‘Not tomorrow, we won’t. We have to come out on top.’

‘Who are we versing second?’ Griffin asks.

‘The Bears.’

‘Why did they have to come?’ someone moans. ‘Is Braedon back?’

‘I don’t know,’ says Alex. ‘But that’s my cousin’s team, so we have to beat them.’

‘That’ll be hard,’ Audrey points out. ‘They won’t want to lose. Not after last time.’

The boys stare at her as if she wasn’t supposed to speak. Then they glance at each other and roll their eyes, except Griffin who looks away and runs a hand over the grass.

‘No one wants to be beaten, Audrey,’ Noah says.

‘I’m just saying we’ll have to go out there firing,’ she asserts. Firing is a word her dad often uses.

One of the boys leans on his elbows, grimaces and pops a loud fart. ‘That’s what you call firing,’ he sniggers.

The others laugh, even Griffin.

‘Food’s on!’ Santos yells, waving his tongs in the air.

They all leap up and flock to the table. Audrey’s been looking forward to a steak, but the boys push in and hog all the best bits. By the time she shoves her way through, all that’s left is a thin, floppy minute steak. She grabs it and pops it on her plate, but someone knocks her from behind and the steak slides onto the ground. A foot lands on top of it: a pink Nike sock in a white Nike sandal. Katerina! Audrey glares at her.

‘Sorry,’ Katerina says, all innocence. She has a pile of meat on her plate, including one of the fat, juicy steaks that Audrey’s mother brought.

‘You’ve got heaps,’ Audrey says. ‘You should share some with me, seeing as you stood on mine.’

Katerina’s eyes glint. ‘Can’t! Touched it with my fingers.’ Her mouth twists into a snarky grin. ‘Why’s your mum always with Miles? My mum reckons something’s going on.’

Audrey recoils. ‘That’s bullshit!’

‘Where’s your dad then?’

‘Working.’

Katerina’s grin widens. ‘Maybe he shouldn’t be. Maybe he should be here keeping an eye on your mum.’

She flounces away leaving Audrey with an empty plate smeared with meat juice. She feels like kicking Katerina. There’s nothing happening with her mum and Miles. They’re just friends. Her mum has to have someone to talk to when her dad’s not here.

Appetite gone, she inspects the table. Now there are only charcoal sausages left. She hates sausages, but takes one anyway, and some salad, and another can of Coke, and sits on the grass with the others and their huge plates of food.

Griffin settles nearby. Not too close. He raises his eyebrows at her meagre food supply. ‘Here, have this,’ he says, taking a steak from his plate and plonking it on hers. She smiles at him gratefully.

‘Why are you giving food to her?’ Viktor asks, fox-eyed.

Griffin flicks some grass at him. ‘Because she’s hungry, and I can’t eat all this. I know you won’t share.’

‘Nup,’ Viktor says. ‘I need my energy.’

‘Selfish prick,’ Griffin murmurs.

‘What did you say?’ Viktor bristles.

‘Nothing,’ Griffin says. ‘Just chewing.’ He bites off a mouthful of meat and chews exaggeratedly with his mouth open, then points at Viktor’s plate. ‘Better eat yours quick. Looks like you got more than anyone.’

Viktor’s plate is packed with enough food for three people. He grins and stuffs a chunk of steak in his mouth and chews with his mouth open too. The other boys copy, and soon they’re all chewing and guffawing like a bunch of idiots. Audrey watches, repelled. How old are they? Didn’t their parents teach them any manners?

Griffin catches her eye and his lips tweak. ‘Eat up,’ he says. ‘You’ll need it if those talent scouts show up tomorrow.’

After dinner, Audrey dumps her paper plate in the overflowing bin and wonders what they’ll do next. It’ll be boring if they just sit around on their phones; they can do that at home. She wants something more exciting. Maybe she should suggest murder in the dark. She could hide where no one can find her and wait till Griffin comes by. Then she could hoot like an owl and he would sneak over to her. And what then? What would happen if it was just her and him?

But what if Viktor found her instead? She decides not to mention it.

Alex produces a soccer ball and an impromptu game breaks out. Audrey joins the downhill team with Griffin. The steep slope makes things interesting. Being downhill means they have to scramble to prevent the ball from running away, while the uphill team takes advantage of it. Some younger brothers and sisters join in too, and then things get silly. Alex rolls a series of somersaults, followed by Viktor who attempts a cartwheel and ends up cranking his back. He lies on the ground, groaning. Katerina leans over him and asks if he’s okay, but Audrey couldn’t care less. Show-offs deserve to get hurt. She hopes his back is broken.

Santos and Dominik come over to check on him. ‘What happened?’ Santos beseeches his son, jerking his hands in the air. ‘You have to play tomorrow. There’s gonna be talent scouts.’

Ah, so the scouts are coming. Audrey is pleased that Viktor is injured, because that means she might get more game time.

‘No more silly business,’ Dominik growls at everyone.

By then it’s almost dark and the lights flicker on around the park. The parents settle in to chat near the barbecue and Viktor suggests the jumping pillow. There’s nothing else to do so they all agree.

He runs off to his cabin to fetch something, so Katerina leads the way. Audrey trudges at the back of the pack, feeling resentful. She doesn’t want to follow Katerina, but what choice does she have when everyone else tags along?

Carrying a backpack, Viktor catches up with them just near the swimming pool where the Bears and their families are having a picnic, a tower of takeaway pizza boxes on the table under the awning. Audrey shrinks when she sees Uncle Darren, hoping he won’t notice her. But he does, of course, and sends her a big wave. Aunty Claire is there too, talking to one of the mums. Freya is in the pool, bobbing on a blue noodle while Tommy supervises her, glum-faced and shivering.

The rest of the Bears are near the fence, Braedon too—so he is back from suspension. As Audrey marches past with the team, he climbs the fence and leers at her. ‘Hey, Minotaurs,’ he taunts. ‘You still got those girls in your team? That must be shit. You losers.’

Viktor struts back, all jaws and bunched shoulders like a bulldog. ‘Fuck off!’ he snarls. ‘Wanna sort it out now?’

‘Don’t need to. You’ll see it on the scoreboard.’

Viktor rushes the fence, and Alex and Noah have to grab his arms to drag him away.

‘Let’s go,’ Audrey says. And, for once, everyone listens to her.

They parade through the park, sparking on adrenaline.

‘What an arsehole,’ Viktor spits. ‘I’ll kill him. He’s full of shit, fuckin’ traitor. Thinks he’s the best, but he’s not.’

‘I hate him,’ Katerina says. ‘He can’t keep his hands to himself on the field.’

‘I’ll smash him if he touches you tomorrow,’ Viktor vows.

‘I’ll get him too,’ Noah declares. ‘I can’t stand him.’

‘Me neither,’ says Alex.

Near the jumping pillow, the tough talk subsides to a kind of restless emptiness. The pillow has already been deflated for the night so they sit on the floppy rubber beneath the fluoro light, pull out their phones and flick through TikTok videos while bugs whirr and circle overhead.

Viktor unzips his backpack, pulls out a bottle of vodka and shows it around, cradled in his hands. ‘Who wants some?’ he says.

A loaded silence follows, in which Audrey senses a shift in the group, like a cool change passing through after a hot day.

Viktor opens the bottle and swigs, grimacing as it goes down. ‘Fuck, that’s good,’ he grunts, grinning lopsidedly and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, same as in the alcohol ads on TV. He shines his phone torch on the label. ‘Forty per cent. Who’s next?’

He passes the bottle on to one of his mates, who grasps it by the neck and takes a big gulp. Most of the other boys have a drink too, but not Alex or Noah. And not Griffin.

‘Scared, are ya?’ Viktor scoffs at Griffin.

‘Nup,’ says Griffin. ‘I don’t need that stuff. Tastes like shit.’

‘Sissy,’ Viktor snarls.

Griffin stares at him, unmoved. ‘I’m here to play football, not vomit on the sidelines.’

‘So you’re just going to watch, are you?’ Viktor scoffs.

Griffin stands up. ‘Nup. Got better things to do.’ He squares his shoulders and strides off without looking back.

An uncomfortable silence follows. Audrey wants to leave too, but everybody will think she’s gone to be with Griffin—which would be true, but she doesn’t want to make it obvious.

‘Dickhead,’ Viktor smirks, and some of the other boys snigger. ‘He’s so fucking straight. All he can think of is football.’ He hoots and pretends to scratch under his arms and at his groin like an ape. ‘Ball, ball,’ he chants.

The laughter is nastier this time.

Audrey wishes she had the guts to stand up for Griffin, but it’s Alex who speaks. ‘Griffin’s all right.’

‘Bullshit! He’s a fucking wuss.’ Viktor glares at Alex and downs a large swig of vodka, screwing his face up as he swallows. ‘Who wants more?’

Alex stands up. ‘Not me. Anyone want to come and watch a movie?’

‘I’ll come.’ Noah leaps up, as do a few other boys. Audrey gets up too, but the rest of them stay on the jumping pillow, including Katerina.

Audrey trails Alex and the boys through the park while they chat among themselves, taking no notice of her. Near the chalet at the top of the hill, she ducks behind a car and waits to see if they look for her. Nobody does. She slinks off before anyone sees her.

Over at the barbecue area, her mother is still chatting to Miles. ‘I’m going for an early run tomorrow,’ Audrey hears her say.

‘I’ll come too,’ Miles says, ‘if I’m not too hungover.’

Audrey thinks about Katerina’s comment and wishes her father was here.

‘Anyone else coming for a run in the morning?’ her mother calls to the other parents.

‘Not bloody likely,’ Santos barks. ‘I’m sleeping in.’ He and Griffin’s dad have a pile of empty beer bottles between them.

‘I’ll come,’ says Katerina’s father, Ilya, who’s reclining on a director’s chair beside Carmen with a cigarette in his hand.

This makes Audrey feel better.

For a few minutes she studies Miles and her mum carefully but can’t see anything odd between them. They don’t touch each other like Carmen and Ilya do. And even though her mum laughs with Miles, she doesn’t sparkle the way she does with Dad when they’re getting on well.

Satisfied that all is okay, she moves off through the park to find Griffin. He’s sitting on a folding chair outside his tent, bent over his phone. When he looks up at her, something in his eyes makes her feel shy. She stands in front of him, shifting from foot to foot.

‘You escaped,’ he says.

‘Yeah.’

‘What’re they doing?’

‘Nothing much. Still drinking.’

‘Idiots. They’ll be wasted tomorrow.’

A silence stretches between them as they look at each other. She feels her cheeks glowing, can’t think what to say.

Griffin clears his throat and stands up, pockets his phone. ‘What do you want to do?’ he asks. ‘Go for a walk?’

‘Yeah okay.’

They pick their way through the maze of tents and caravans to a sandy track at the edge of the park where the light poles finish and the bush begins. In a shadowy grove of twisted paperbarks, they turn on their phone torches and the lights shine on the leaves and white branches. At the top of the dunes, the roar of the sea rises to meet them. They switch off their torches, and in the pale light of the moon, Audrey can just make out lines of silver surf on the dark stretch of sea. She breathes in the sharp smell of seaweed, feeling Griffin there in the night, close beside her.

They slide down the track in the cold, shifting sand. At the base of the dunes, he shucks his runners off and stashes them behind a large clump of grass. Audrey takes hers off too, pulling her socks right-way out before stuffing them inside her sneakers and lining them up beside Griffin’s. He’s already started down onto the beach and she has to jog to catch up. When she draws level, he says, ‘Come on. Race you to the water.’

He leaps away on long legs and she can’t keep up as she follows in his wake. They run onto the flat expanse of the beach, through soft sand and onto the firmer section where her feet fly. At the water’s edge, they pause to tug their jeans up to their knees before wading into the foamy shallows. ‘It’s freezing,’ she gasps.

She notices him glance at her. She holds her breath, but he turns and strides off down the beach, splashing through the water, then turns back. ‘You coming?’

For a while they walk, saying nothing, leaving the blinking lights of the caravan park far behind. The night is large around them. A spray of stars falls into the black velvet skin of the sea. Audrey begins to worry that they’ll lose sight of the holiday park. ‘How far are we going?’ she asks eventually.

He halts. ‘I don’t know. We can stop here if you want.’ He peers back the way they’ve just come. ‘Do you want to go back?’

She wants to be here with him, but doesn’t want to get lost or be too tired for tomorrow. ‘All right.’

They start back. As they walk, he sidles closer and grasps her hand, grips it tight. His fingers are sweaty and a bit sticky but she doesn’t mind.

He stops and looks at her.

Even though the light is dim, she can see his face and the glimmer in his eyes. Her heart skips. It’s going to happen! It’s going to happen! Her body tightens as he touches her hair and shifts a curl behind her ear then runs his fingers down her cheek. It feels like electricity coursing through her.

He slips his arms around her waist and pulls her close. She presses her cheek against his thin shoulder, breathes him in, slowly relaxes against him. The hard wiry feel of his chest. The smoky barbecue smell of him. A hint of deodorant. The tickle of his hair on her forehead.

They stand like that for a while, holding each other. She can feel his rib cage moving against hers as he inhales. He pulls back a little, his eyes blazing in the silvery light. Then he kisses her, his lips hot and soft, moving against hers.

She lets him push her lips open with his, and there’s a weird uncomfortable moment when their teeth clash and they both draw back, laughing.

He kisses her again. And this time she kisses him back, a thrill running through her.

She allows him to explore her mouth with his tongue. The wild, wonderful taste of him.

The football field for the tournament is tucked away in a green valley on the edge of town. To get there, you have to drive down a steep hill, around a sharp bend, and try not to miss the turn-off. The car park is right at the bottom. Towering gums all around with long straps of bark dangling down their white trunks. When Audrey slides out of the car, the air is thick with the high-pitched shrieks of rainbow lorikeets up in the canopy. The rich scent of damp forest and cut grass hangs over everything.

She grabs her bag and follows Alex to the squat brown-brick clubhouse out in the middle of the four marked-out fields. She’s tired. Last night she was too excited to sleep. Couldn’t stop thinking about Griffin. Was he thinking about her too? She’d hoped she might be a new person this morning. Last night, she felt so different. But now she’s at the field, her guts churn, as usual.

In the change room, Viktor and his mates are huddled in the corner, pasty-faced and quiet. Green around the gills, her father would say. They deserve it. So cocky last night. And now look at them! Audrey wishes she had the courage to make fun of them, but she doesn’t need to, because Alex does it for her.

‘What’s up with you lot?’ he chuckles, tossing his bag on the bench. ‘Feeling a bit shit?’

Viktor leans his head against the wall. ‘Don’t talk so loud,’ he groans.

‘I did warn you,’ Alex snickers.

‘I was spewing all night,’ Viktor moans. ‘How am I going to play?’

‘Badly.’

‘If I’m sick, who’s going to score goals?’

‘Griffin, obviously,’ Audrey says.

Viktor belches and hurries from the room, the stench of vomit wafting around him. It makes Audrey’s stomach cramp in unwanted sympathy. She dumps her bag and heads to the girls’ loos. When she returns, the room is packed with boys. Her eyes flit to Griffin. He smiles when he sees her.

She pushes into the room and hunts for her bag, finds it on the floor, contents scattered everywhere. ‘What happened to my bag?’ she gripes. ‘Whoever knocked it down could’ve picked it up again.’ She squats on the concrete and rakes her things together, clears some bench space so she can sit and put her boots on.

Problem is, she can only find one boot. She rummages around in her bag. But the other boot isn’t there.

Now panic strikes. She has to find it before Dominik discovers it’s missing. She scours the room, grovelling on the floor, dodging legs, scrabbling under benches, beneath discarded clothes, but she can’t find it anywhere.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Viktor snarls.

‘Looking for my boot. Have you seen it?’

He raises his eyebrows. ‘Course not. Why are you always losing things?’

Audrey is wondering the same thing. She used to be organised, but lately she’s lost the plot. Away with the fairies, her mother would say. Maybe it’s because her mind is on other things.

She keeps searching.

‘Has anyone seen Audrey’s boot?’ Alex asks, frowning at the others and joining her to look for it.

Nobody says anything, and her boot is nowhere.

Then she’s out of time.

Dominik appears in the doorway. ‘Cut the noise, guys. I can’t hear myself think. Time to listen up.’

Audrey slinks over to him and asks if she can go and get something from the car.

His face warps into a frown. ‘Not now. I’m about to read out the starting list and I’ve got some important announcements to make.’ He turns to face the team, sullen. ‘I’ve heard some of you were drinking last night and I’m not happy about it. In fact, I’m disgusted by the lack of professionalism. This is not the pathway to the top. You’ve let the team and your parents down. And it’s not what we expect in our elite academy. I know who the ringleader was and so I’m making some changes. Griffin’s the new team captain.’

There’s a brief silence in which everyone looks at Viktor, whose face is dark as a thunderstorm.

Griffin glows, and Audrey’s pleased for him. But she has to go and look for her boot—she won’t be able to play without it—which means she has to tell Dominik that it’s missing.

‘How can you lose a boot?’ he snorts, flicking a dismissive hand at her. ‘Go on. Hurry up and find it.’

Beside him, Carmen gives Audrey a condescending look.

Tears scratching behind her eyes, she hobbles outside in one boot and casts around for her mother. There she is: at the canteen with Aunty Claire. At least she’s not talking to Miles. She hastens over, her sock soaked within a few strides on the damp ground.

Her mother is livid. ‘What the hell, Audrey! All you had to do was pack your bag! Just one thing.’

‘Sorry, Mum. Can I have the keys so I can go check the car?’

Her mother tosses the keys at her and Audrey hop-skips across to the car park in her filthy wet sock, opens the car, crawls around inside. The boot isn’t there. Her stomach twists. Maybe she left it back at the caravan park.

She returns the keys to her mother, whose angry eyes scald her. ‘Not there?’

‘No.’

‘So now you’re going to ask me to go back to the chalet?’

‘Please?’ Audrey begs. ‘I’m really sorry.’

Her mother stalks off while Audrey zooms back to the change rooms to check one more time. She shoves past the team on their way out, cringing at the judgement in their eyes. Except Griffin, who nods at her.

She scans the room frantically. Gear all over the benches and floor: clothes, bags, jackets, runners, spare socks. And there’s her boot, peeping from beneath a pair of tracksuit pants under a bench. How did she miss it before? Has someone got it in for her?

With fumbling fingers, she tugs it on, accidentally knotting the laces. Then she races outside. Her mother is over at the car park. ‘Mum!’ she shouts. ‘It’s here.’ She waits to see her mother turn and mouth something at her, then rushes to join the team.

‘Where did you find it?’ Dominik asks, lips compressed.

She squirms. ‘It was on the floor in the change room.’

‘I had you in the starting line-up,’ he says, ‘but now you’ll have to wait till half-time.’

With a sour, downturned mouth, he plants himself in the middle of the field to supervise the warm-up. Audrey joins in, worried he will pick on her. Straight away, though, he starts yelling at the vodka crew, who are slow and grumpy and sloppy. For once, he doesn’t notice her—she can’t believe her enemies have saved her. But it doesn’t make up for the fact that she has to sit on the bench when she might have started on the field. The only consolation is that Katerina is off too and some of the others who drank vodka. Viktor’s on, though—strikers are always forgiven for everything.

When the team files onto the field, she slumps on a chair with the other benched players and picks at her fingers. A chill wind wraps around her. She jiggles her legs to keep warm. Wishes she could be out there. But it’s not a great game, anyway. The Flames are useless and her team doesn’t look much better. Too many boys drank vodka last night and Dominik can’t keep them all off or they wouldn’t have enough players.

At half-time, he explodes on the sidelines. ‘What’s wrong with you lot today?’ he bellows, jerking his arms in the air. ‘Half of you are playing like shit. You’re making the Flames look good and you’re dishonouring our club. If it wasn’t for Griffin and a few others, we’d be losing. The rest of you need to wake up and take a good long look at yourselves. We didn’t come all this way to be useless. Get back out there and pull your socks up or we might as well go home. It’s time to do it for your mates.’

Second half, he puts Audrey on the left wing. She throws herself into the game, desperate to prove herself. What if the talent scouts are watching?

She makes a good pass and Griffin smiles at her.

This gives her confidence. She thinks of kissing him, and then it happens—everything clicks. Her touch is sharp, she’s light on her feet, and the ball goes exactly where she wants it to. She keeps her head up, runs into space. Makes great passes. Even scores a goal. Dominik nods approvingly.

You are fast, she reminds herself. You have good skills. You can be a champion.

And most of the time she believes it.

Between games, Audrey slumps on a folding chair in the sun while the rest of her team mates cluster near the canteen, chatting and laughing and eating junk food.

‘Why don’t you go over with the others and have fun?’ her mother says.

‘It’s not fun eating crap, Mum,’ she says, pulling off a scab on her knee and making it bleed. ‘And I don’t want to be anywhere near Katerina.’

Her mum notices the oozing blood and produces a Band-Aid. ‘I don’t know why you do that,’ she murmurs.

‘Because it feels good.’ Audrey holds her mother’s gaze, feeling combative and hostile.

‘Why are you in such a bad mood?’ her mum asks. ‘You played really well. I thought you’d be happy.’

‘Happy about starting on the bench?’ Audrey says sarcastically.

Her mother gives her a look. ‘Whose fault was that?’

Audrey fiddles with the Band-Aid and watches as Griffin buys something at the canteen then saunters across the field towards her.

‘Hey, Audrey,’ he says, then to her mum. ‘Hi, Mrs Woodford.’

‘Hello Griffin,’ her mother says. ‘You’ve been starring today.’

Audrey watches him scuff at the ground with his boots, digging up bits of grass with his studs.

‘Audrey played well too,’ he says.

‘That’s what I’ve been telling her, but she won’t listen to me.’

‘Want some chips?’ Griffin asks, holding a bag out to Audrey.

‘No, thanks. I’m not hungry.’

‘You need to eat something or you won’t have energy for the next game.’

She squints up at him. ‘Chips aren’t food.’

He laughs. ‘Come and get an egg and bacon roll then. Or a sausage.’

‘I hate sausages. I had enough of them last night.’

‘How about a jelly snake? A killer python?’

‘I might get one of those,’ she says. ‘I feel like killing someone.’

His smile widens and she can’t help smiling too.

‘I’ll buy you one,’ he says.

He reaches a hand and hauls her up out of her chair. But she lets go quickly, because her mother’s watching and she doesn’t want to make it obvious.

Audrey has a bad feeling about playing the Bears. It began last night with Braedon’s taunts. And it worsens now, when she sees Cody and Santos arguing on the sideline.

‘Parents from different teams have to stand separate,’ Cody is saying.

‘Relax, buddy.’ Santos folds his arms across his chest. ‘People can stand where they like. It’s kids’ football. Just a game.’ Funny he should say that when he always acts like someone’s died whenever the Minotaurs lose.

‘You’re the one who’s uptight,’ Cody says.

‘No, I’m not,’ Santos grins. ‘I’m chill … and your lot’s over there anyway.’ He points. ‘Look at them. Bunch of clowns!’

Down the line, there’s a group of Bears parents all decked out in red. The mums look like American pompom girls. And Uncle Darren is there too, in a red Bears jersey and beanie. Audrey can’t believe it. Even Freya is dressed up: red ribbons in her high pigtails, tassels made of crimson tinsel. But not Aunty Claire. She’s off to one side, keeping her distance, even though she must have helped Freya get ready.

Uncle Darren sees Cody and calls out. ‘Hey, Cody! Come over here with the cheer squad.’

Cody goes, but Audrey still feels tense.

When it’s time for the two teams to line up on the field, Griffin wins the toss and chooses to kick off. Then the players have to walk past each other, shaking hands. Audrey hates this bit, because there’s always someone who acts like girls are toxic and makes a fuss about touching her, which is ridiculous when it’s boys who don’t wash their hands after the toilet.

Her bad feeling gets worse when Viktor and Braedon refuse to shake hands.

As soon as the whistle blows, Braedon starts doing his usual thing of crashing into people and arguing with the ref. Audrey keeps out of the way, but she’s rattled. When the ball lands nearby, she glances around to see if it’s safe to go after it. Viktor barges through so she hangs back. If her dad was here, he would say she wasn’t being assertive enough. But you have to be careful when you’re playing with boys. You have to arrive just a little bit late to the ball so you don’t get smashed in a tackle.

Viktor finds space and looks like he might score when he’s chopped down by Braedon. The ref gives Viktor a free kick, but from then on it’s as if Braedon has been injected with dynamite. He goes ballistic, hurtling around the field and challenging everyone. Audrey is glad when he cops a yellow card. Viktor laughs at him, then he and Braedon chest up against each other until the ref threatens to send them both off.

At half-time, Audrey sucks on an orange while Dominik goes through his pep talk.

When the game restarts, she notices two dark-haired men in blue tracksuits standing at the edge of the field. They look important. Serious. And something about them makes her think they might be talent scouts. The way they narrow their eyes and lean towards each other, nodding whenever a player does something good.

She tries to catch Griffin’s eye, but he’s focused on the game, and maybe she should be too, instead of staring at the two men; if she stuffs up now, that would be awful.

Griffin drops the ball at Alex’s feet, perfectly timed. Alex passes back and Griffin takes off, moving the ball through the field like it’s part of his body. It’s so good, so tidy, Audrey almost stops breathing. If only she could be like him. How does he do it?

‘Here!’ yells Viktor, running through the centre.

Griffin dribbles past him, making it look easy, dodging everyone. Then it’s just him and the Bears goalie. He dances into position, all fluid motion, and slams the ball into the net, sliding it under the goalie who flings himself on the ground and kicks the dirt in disgust.

Audrey stops, stunned. She turns to look at the talent scouts. They’re watching Griffin and talking to each other excitedly.

The futility of it all lands inside her like a brick. Why didn’t she see it before? She’s playing really well, but it’s only special players like Griffin who get noticed. Naturals. Not Braedon. Not Alex. Not even Viktor. And definitely not her. Griffin is the only one of them who might play for Australia.

The game goes on but she doesn’t feel like playing. Disappointment hangs over her like a cloud. Her parents had such high hopes, and they’ve done so much for her, but the talent scouts haven’t even noticed her. She wishes she could get injured so she could go off.

And that’s when it happens—when she’s mooching and feeling sorry for herself and not even watching. She hears a loud pop and a despairing cry and whirls to see Alex and Braedon in a tangle on the ground, right in front of the goal. Braedon crawls free, but Alex is grimacing and clutching his knee.

‘Penalty!’ the ref shouts.

Audrey takes no notice. She runs to Alex, sees the pain in his eyes, the shock of it all. Then Dominik is there. Her mother. The rest of the team, shuffling their feet and looking shaken.

The St John Ambulance first aiders arrive and carry Alex off on a stretcher. Audrey wants to go with him, but the team needs her. She’s scared for Alex, yet she has to step into the gap he left behind on the field. She’s better than him. And she knows she can do it. She won’t let him down.

‘Who’s going to take the penalty?’ the ref asks.

‘Me,’ Viktor says, moving forward.

‘Audrey should take it,’ Griffin says. ‘For her brother.’

There’s a moment of silence.

Gobsmacked, Audrey stares at him. She glances at Dominik and he nods. ‘I agree.’

Viktor glares at her. ‘You better not miss!’

She looks to Alex who is sitting on a chair by the sideline with a bag of ice on his knee. They lock eyes and he nods. His face is pinched and pale. Audrey feels for him. That loud pop means it was no ordinary knee twist. He’s trying to look brave, but she can tell from his tight mouth and grimace that he’s close to tears.

‘Okay,’ she says. ‘I’ll do it.’

The ref sets the ball on the penalty spot and walks over to discuss the rules with the Bears goalie.

Audrey gets in position, stomach fluttering. Where should she aim? Bottom left corner? She’s practised so many times before with her dad and Alex down at the oval. But this is different. This is the real thing. She can’t believe they’re letting her do it.

The ref stands to her left, just outside the penalty box, raises his arm and pips his whistle.

You can do this, she tells herself.

She scopes the goal, trying to ignore the goalie jumping up and down on the line. Then she sucks in a breath, rises on her toes and starts her run-up. One, two, three strides. Her boot meets the ball and she follows through, just like Griffin taught her.

The goalie launches sideways but the ball rockets past him, snagging into the back of the net. The goalie is on the ground, grovelling.

Elation busts inside her. She sees Alex’s smile. Hears Griffin’s triumphant shout. Laughs, as the team piles on top of her.

What about the talent scouts?

She turns to see if they noticed, but they’ve only got eyes for Griffin.

They beat the Bears, win the next two games, finish on top of the ladder, and take out the tournament.

At the presentation, Dominik can’t stop grinning. He beams as the Bears file off the clubhouse verandah after accepting their second-place medals. ‘Minotaurs, go shake hands with the Runners Up,’ he urges. ‘Win with honour, lose with dignity.’

Yeah, right, Audrey thinks. What about all the times he’s gone off at them when they’ve lost? Easy to be gracious when you win. Not so easy when you lose.

She steps forward with the rest of the team to shake hands with the Bears while all the parents clap loudly. They’re the shortest, most grudging handshakes she has ever experienced. The Bears, including Tommy, drop their heads and look miserable. Braedon and Viktor still refuse to shake hands.

Then it’s time to receive her medal with the Minotaurs. She almost cries when Alex limps up too, and the whole team flocks around him, cheering.

‘Sorry about your knee,’ she whispers, lining up beside him on the verandah.

He nods and his eyes moisten.

When the tournament president hangs a medal around her neck, Audrey knows she should be excited, but she doesn’t feel anything. Not even when Griffin accepts the silver cup on behalf of the team and raises it in the air. She joins them, crowding around him while the parents shout and cheer. But her smile is fake and her face feels like plastic. She feels sick about Alex’s leg, and the fact that the talent scouts didn’t notice her—there’s only one person they would have seen.

After the presentation, there’s a photo session. First, the team shots: one with Griffin holding the cup, then another with Dominik in the middle of all the players, hugging the cup to his chest. Then everybody wants a photo of themselves holding the cup. Audrey hangs back. What’s the point when she doesn’t even feel like celebrating?

Santos takes photos of Viktor from every possible angle until Audrey is sick of the whole thing. She doesn’t want a photo. She just wants to pack up and start the drive home. But Griffin snatches the cup from Viktor and thrusts it into her hands.

‘Come on, Audrey,’ her mother says, holding up her phone to take a photo. ‘Lift the cup higher and smile.’

Audrey complies but her face feels like concrete.

Monday, at school, she waits to hear the results of Alex’s MRI. He sends a message with a sad face emoji. Knee’s fucked, he texts. Surgery and ten months of rehab.

She has a little cry for him. He sounds so disappointed.

And yet a small voice, deep inside, wishes she was the one with the injury so she wouldn’t have to play anymore and no one would ask any questions.

Wednesday, Audrey can’t shake the lethargy that has followed her since the tournament. She tells herself she’s just feeling bad about Alex. But it’s more than that, she knows it is. She should feel good after winning the tournament, despite Alex’s injury. But she’s numb.

After school, she just wants to sleep, and tries all sorts of excuses to skip training—an assignment due tomorrow, a maths test on Wednesday, sick with her period.

But her mother insists that she goes. ‘If Alex can manage to watch with his knee injury, then I’m sure you can cope,’ her mother says.

In the car park, Audrey sits in the car, weak and floppy.

‘Come on,’ her mother says. ‘Get going.’

She lugs her backpack across the field and dumps it with all the other bags.

Alex is already there, chatting to Noah. The others gather around him, inquiring about his knee. She can hear him getting mileage out of words like ‘surgery’ and ‘rehab’, but she feels really sorry for him. At home, he’s been in tears. What am I going to do for a whole year if I can’t play football? Nobody had any answers to that. But Audrey can think of lots of things she’d like to do. She would be in the school play, for one. And that would mean she’d be looking forward to the opening night of Shrek, which is coming up soon. She’d rather die than watch Georgia as Fiona, but she has to be a good friend and go.

To the west, she can see cumulus clouds building over the mountains. It’s going to rain, so there’s no point in training anyway. It’ll just end up getting cancelled or someone will get a torn muscle or sprained ankle from slipping around.

She slumps on the grass to put on her boots.

Griffin saunters towards her with a wide grin on his face. No wonder he’s smiling. After the game against the Bears, while Audrey went to the first aiders to get more ice for Alex, the talent scouts had a long chat with Griffin and his dad. They offered him a scholarship to trial for the Liverpool youth academy in England. She’s happy for him, she really is. He deserves his lucky break. But what about her? She won’t ever get noticed.

Griffin drops his bag beside her and pulls out clean, fluoro-green Adidas boots.

‘New boots?’ she says.

He blushes right up to his hairline. ‘My feet grew over the weekend.’

‘Are you sure it’s not your ego that got bigger?’ She smiles, but doesn’t feel it.

The crimson in his cheeks deepens. ‘My feet were hurting and my toes were all squished.’

‘Didn’t slow you down when the talent scouts were watching.’

He looks away.

‘Why didn’t you mention your feet were hurting?’ she asks.

‘I knew Dad would be mad because boots cost so much.’

‘But you can afford it now?’ She’s being nasty but can’t help herself.

He peers at her, uncertain. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Didn’t the talent scouts offer you a contract for Liverpool?’

He loops his laces without looking at her. ‘It’s not like that. I have to trial for their junior academy first.’

Audrey hides her envy with a smile. ‘The boots look good,’ she says, but the prickle continues to niggle under her skin. She hates herself for wanting to hurt him, but it’s not fair. She wants success as much as he does.

He’s studying her now, brow furrowed, and when he sees her smile, he grins and leaps up, dances from foot to foot, then sprints on the spot. ‘They feel good,’ he says. ‘Want to help me try them out?’

He fetches a ball and comes back to her, juggling, light and balanced. It makes her feel even more exhausted. She will never be able to handle a ball like that.

Thunder rumbles in the distance.

Griffin flicks the ball into the air and pops it off his forehead, catches it in his hands, pauses to look at her. ‘What’s up?’ he says. ‘You okay?’

‘Just tired.’

‘Maybe you’re getting sick.’

Another rumble of thunder and they both look towards the horizon. The clouds are steel grey and turning purple, like a bruise. The air feels heavy.

Dominik calls everyone in and pulls the winning silver cup from his bag, thrusts it in the air, grinning wildly. Viktor jumps up and cheers, punching the air, and everyone follows, leaping and cavorting, faces alight. Except Alex, of course, who can’t leap. And Audrey, because she’s too tired to move … until Katerina’s eyes swing onto her, then she gets up too.

Dominik passes the cup around and each player grasps it. Audrey takes a turn and passes it on. Dominik decides he wants another team photo. For memory. In case there’s never another moment like this again.

It turns into a brag-fest: his favourite players down the front, the rest lined up behind. Audrey is down the back, of course. Griffin, centre-front, holds up the cup with a delighted smile.

After everyone’s parents take more photos, Viktor snatches the cup from Griffin. ‘Come on, get around me,’ he yells. Then to his father, ‘Baba, take a photo.’

Audrey hangs back. Didn’t everyone already take a million photos, both here and at the tournament?

She’s relieved when training starts, but she just wants to go home. When they pause for a drink, she can’t find her water bottle and she nearly bursts into tears. She scrabbles through her bag but it’s not there. She remembers filling it from the fridge dispenser at home then tucking it under her shin guards before zipping up her bag. So where is it now? Is she going crazy?

Sullen, she sits on the grass and wraps her arms around her legs.

‘What are you doing, Audrey?’ Dominik frowns. ‘When I say “get a drink” I mean everybody. No exceptions. We all need to drink. Even when it’s cold.’

‘I can’t find my water bottle,’ she says.

He tuts at her and she shrivels under the weight of his gaze, the disapproving jut of his chin. Even his pouting belly seems to be judging her, the way he pushes it forward and plants his hands on his hips and tilts his pelvis at her.

The others are judging her too. She sees it in their eyes. Not Griffin, though. His eyes are full of sympathy. And not Noah, who’s always kind. And not Alex, who is staring at the other players with a dark frown.

Despairing, she glances at her mother at the railing. Tonight, her father will go off at her. She imagines the disappointment in his eyes, the sting of his words when he says she’s let him down yet again.

‘I have a spare bottle,’ Noah says. ‘But it’s empty.’ He holds out a blue plastic bottle and she takes it gratefully.

Dominik sends her to the change rooms to fill it. She trudges across the grass while thunder rolls and the sky blackens and the air thickens. Cockatoos shriek in the trees, mocking her. Tears spring, then start to flow.

In the girls’ toilets, she hears raindrops spattering on the tin roof: a slow splat, splat, splat. She dashes tears from her eyes, her cheeks, her chin, swallowing the sobs that rise in her throat.

When the bottle is full, she guzzles water tainted with metal and rust. Then flicks some water over her face to wash the tear tracks away.

Outside, everyone except Alex is already in a drill and she hurries to join them. She’s part way across the field when thunder booms. The sky holds its breath and then sighs, and down comes the rain, soaking her in seconds, a sweeping curtain that lashes the grass and roars through the trees, drums on the clubhouse roof.

The others abandon the drill and run about, diving on the sodden ground, sliding and shouting and shrieking while Dominik and Alex watch on.

Audrey stands and lets the tears flow out of her like a river, because who can tell she’s crying in this rain? She turns her face to the sky, opens her mouth: raindrops zinging on her tongue, rivulets slipping over her skin, her hair heavy with water, curls glued to her cheeks. Who needs a water bottle when you can drink from the clouds?

A jag of light unzips the heavens and a resounding whipcrack of thunder shifts the air. She hears her mother’s high, panicked voice, ‘Get the kids off the field, Dominik, before someone gets struck.’

She extends her arms wide like branches, closes her eyes and takes the downpour on her face. Little sharp nails biting her skin.

‘Audrey! Come and get in the car,’ her mother yells.

She heads slowly across to the car park, but there’s no rush because she’s already wet, and she can’t feel anything anyway. She’s totally numb.

At home, she lets Alex shower first, then, when it’s her turn, she locks herself in the bathroom and sits on the edge of the bath. She feels heavy. Words spiral in her mind. No good. Useless. Never going to make it.

She pulls open the drawer and surveys the scattered contents. Emery boards. Tubes of skin cream. Large plastic hair rollers. Make-up. Bobby pins.

She picks up a bobby pin and opens it out. Useless now, just like her. Her breath is a moth trapped in her throat as she lifts her jersey, tugs her shorts down a little, and scrapes the bobby pin across her hip, digging deep into the soft skin. The sting is satisfying, but not enough.

She hunts for the nail scissors and opens the blade. Touches the sharp tip to her hip, presses down and draws it across. Gasps as pain jangles through her. A strange pleasure in it.

She wipes the blood with her fingertips and licks it off. The sour rusty taste.

A creaking sound in the hallway—maybe her mother coming.

She snatches a handful of toilet paper and wipes the blood away, drops the paper in the toilet. Finds a Band-Aid in the drawer and sticks it over the wound. Sits on the loo and pees on the paper. Flushes the evidence away.