Friendship on Fire (21 page)

Dad wanted to go first, naturally. I smiled and nodded supportively as he oohed and ahhed over pointless knick-knacks. I kept checking my watch and counted down the time until it was my turn.

‘OK Dad, time's up, you're done. What have you got?' I said bossily.

He raised his eyebrow at me. ‘Who is the parent here?'

‘Someone has to be when you shop,' I said, knowing I could get away with it.

‘Fine. Just this, and this.'

He put a miniature wooden spoon and a small torch attached to a key ring on the counter. I held my eyes firmly so I didn't roll them in his presence. If I offended my ‘bank' I might end up with nothing. The attendant bagged them and we walked to find a shop for me. We turned a few corners until I saw what I was looking for. My heart leapt with joy and I grabbed Dad's arm.

‘Quick, Dad,' I said, pulling him with me to the surf shop stall hidden amongst some imported rip-off sports clothes.

Knowing I had only fifteen minutes, I divided my time wisely. Summer now, but cold soon. Half time each. Scope out sale racks for cheap gear.

Dad stood bewildered as I rushed around the store, trying to touch everything at least once. Before I knew it, Dad had an audience. I didn't stop to see who it was, for that would be wasting valuable shopping time. Finally, I pulled out a beanie with a matching scarf and gloves. OK so maybe it was pre-emptive considering the still balmy weather, but it was a gorgeous pink set from Billabong and it would come in handy soon.

The beanie had a thick braid coming out the top of it, the gloves could be buttoned back to reveal thug fingers, and the scarf had long tassels that could be wound round and round the neck. I knew straight away it was ambitious. Even one of the items Dad wouldn't be able to buy for me.

I put it all on, hot and bothered, and ran to the mirror to remember the day that I found the perfect winter set and couldn't buy it.

‘Nice look. Still a tad hot though, isn't it?'

Roman suddenly appeared in my mirrored vision, smiling mischievously at me, eyes heavily amused. Quick intake of breath made me choke, and I coughed. This gave him even more amusement.

‘Nothing wrong with preparation,' I murmured, standing up straight in the mirror. I could feel beads of sweat forming at my forehead and the back of my neck from the knit and my short coughing fit. I desperately didn't want to ruin these beautiful items, but pride stopped me from taking them off just because he annoyed me.

‘Definitely not,' Roman continued. ‘Your red hair is striking under the bright pink of the beanie, not to mention your cheeks.'

My eyes narrowed. I hadn't decided when I was going to dye my hair back, but it wasn't necessary to remind me of my flaming waves every chance someone got. ‘By the time I wear it, my hair will be blonde again,' I said firmly.

‘Hey, I wasn't bagging it. I like your ranga hair. It makes your eyes stand out when you're mad,' he commented, eyes alight. ‘They flash. Like lightning.'

This sent a lightning flash of its own up my spine. I wasn't angry, nor indignant. I didn't know what I felt. So I simply stared at him.

‘Yes. That's the one,' he said, pointing at my face.

‘I don't know what you're talking about,' I replied, feigning disinterest.

‘That look. Perfect exhibit. Hold it. I want to take a photo,' he commanded, holding up a hand and reaching into his pocket with the other.

‘Roman …' I started, suddenly remembering my message from last night, the one he never answered. It was too late, I couldn't stop him from thoroughly embarrassing me now.

‘Wait … nearly got it …' He stopped. Reading his screen, he peered down at me with renewed interest.

I started taking off the beautiful gloves, using the opportunity to avert my eyes from his.

‘I haven't checked my phone in a while. I didn't hear it beep. Sorry,' he said in a low voice.

‘No big deal,' I answered, as I gently unwound the scarf from my burning neck.

‘Well if I'd seen it …'

His blue eyes locked with mine for a few seconds until I looked away. This was strange. What was this emotion I was feeling all of a sudden? My neck tingled with nerves, like shooting pains. My stomach burned and my eyes did not want to stay away from his, no matter how much I tried to look away. The feeling wasn't unfamiliar …

I wanted to
flirt
with him.

I clasped my hand over my mouth to mask my horror. This was Roman. Quickly pulling the beanie off my head, I threw the three items down on the counter and ran to find Dad. He was showing his bounty to Roman's mother, who looked about as interested as I had been.

‘Honey, as much as I love what you've chosen, we can't …' Dad said, but I interrupted him.

‘I know, Dad. It's expensive. Another time, maybe. We need to go, now,' I said hastily. Then I remembered Roman's mum. She looked startled at my flustered state. Roman was walking toward us, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I had to run before I felt more weird feelings for him.

‘Hi Mrs Taylor. Sorry to run. We're late …' I said and started pulling Dad away by the elbow. He was annoyed at my impatience, but came anyway. Roman had his hand up in a bewildered wave as I stormed out of the market square.

‘I don't know what that was about, Daisy, but you were plain rude. What's got into you?' Dad demanded, slamming the car door.

‘Nothing, Dad. Let's go home, please,' I said, trying to pacify him and avoid that feeling again.

‘You can't throw a tantrum because I can't buy you what you want,' he said as he turned on the ignition.

‘No. That's not it, honestly. I realised I have to be home for something. With Mum. Uh, girls' stuff,' I lied. He would believe it because “girls' stuff” was important, and confidential, and scary for men.

Dad raised his eyebrows. ‘Righto. Guess it's time for the fruit and veg to be in the fridge, anyway. And I can't wait to play with the wooden spoon,' he said eagerly.

My cheeks burnt all the way home, uncontrollably; pure chemistry still flowing in my veins.

My hopes for World Cup glory fell inside my chest. I thought I'd trained hard enough, impressed coach enough, for him to let me on first. This was
my
soccer team, and Nate was allowed to go on before me? I had been around for two years before him. The injustice stung me, even though I was happy that he was needed.

Nate stopped to give me a peck before he ran onto the field to start the game. I sat back in the stand and released my shin pads, not needing them or the marks they gave me around my calves for the next hour.

Treston scored in the first fifteen minutes — a curve ball straight into the top left hand corner of the net. It was epic and we bench-warmers cheered like Corby told us to. He always said, ‘Just because you aren't on the field, it doesn't mean you aren't a part of the team'. He was right, but I was still sulking.

The other team scored the tie minutes before the half time whistle. We gave away a penalty in the box; one of our defenders, Andre, was a little too eager to get the ball back on our side again.

Coach Corby screamed at the top of his lungs to encourage the players, while they poured cold water over their heads.

It was around thirty degrees in the hottest part of the day and it showed by the pink glow on everyone's faces.

‘Now get out there and
win,
‘ he finished, and came over to me.

‘Daisy, listen. Cherice is playing really well. I want to keep her on for a bit longer to see what she's got,' he said. When he saw my face drop, he added, ‘Don't sweat it, you'll get a turn.'

I was so embarrassed. I leant over and rested my elbows on my knees. I couldn't make eye contact with anyone on my team. Why was it so imperative for me to be on the field? Was it to impress Nate? Or to be included and treated as an important player? It was times like this I found Corby's competitive side annoying. He cared more about winning than sharing the load around. One day I would tell him that.

The whistle blew. The enemy got a clean break, off the left wing. Where were our defenders? I bit my fingernails as I watched their striker send the ball into the net, our goalie diving too late to stop it.

‘Damn it,' I said, taking my frustration out on someone's water bottle. The lid cracked. I subtly slid it up further to Corby's seat. It wouldn't be as surprising, that way.

Corby took the opportunity to sub while the ball was being retrieved from the net. He marched along the line of subs and we all watched him in the hope of being chosen to go on. He nodded at me and I quickly strapped my pads back on and pulled up my socks. Heart pumping, I sprinted to my position on the right wing.

Nate grinned at me as he passed the ball to Treston in the centre. Treston took off with it at full speed, calling for the forwards to push up. In his haste, the ball was taken off him and lobbed right down to our goalie, who easily picked it up and searched for someone who wanted it. Cherice had her hand up. She appeared tired. I desperately wanted to be as good as her, but she had a better kick than me. It was plainly obvious and only with practice could I improve my kick.
Or with a new pair of feet
, I said to myself.

For the next ten minutes, the game became very annoying. No side could secure their offensive strategy. Everyone was getting frustrated with his or her own team. Corby's face was red as he screamed from the sidelines. I tried so hard to defend and help out the forwards, but no one stood out to help gain the upper hand.

Suddenly, Treston had the ball. He had tackled a midfielder who wasn't paying attention to his position and stole it from him. Off he went, weaving in and out of the players.

I bolted down the right side, keeping some space to myself in case of the unlikely event that he wanted to pass it to me. He took a moment to glance up and around, keeping the ball protected in his foot space, and saw me.

Oh my gosh. He had that look in his eye. The one that suggested he was going to pass it to me. My legs turned to jelly as I saw the high ball floating towards me. Don't stuff it up.

My body turned into autopilot. I chested the ball with good timing and let it bounce in front of me, before turning to the side and kicking it on the half volley. I sent it to the left side of the goal where Nate met it and headed it into the net.

What?

Had I just set up a goal?

Were we drawing now?

Was I
good
?

Cherice ran up to me squealing and jumping around. The boys were hugging and slapping each other on the backside. On his way back to the starting line, Nate grinned at me and squeezed my bum.

‘Well done, babe,' he said breathlessly, wiping sweat from his forehead with his hand.

‘Thanks. You too,' I said, running with him.

Ten minutes later, the whistle blew for full time. It was a draw, but that's better than a loss. Coach Corby didn't think so, but he'd get over it.

Treston rubbed the top of my head with his fist in an annoying display of affection. I grinned regardless. Corby shouted at me, something about doing a good job and more time on the field next weekend. And I had impressed Nate.

The team wanted to celebrate by meeting for gelato. It seemed like a perfect idea on such a warm day and we deserved it. Nate was keen, so I talked Treston into going.

I rode in Nate's car, a significant downgrade from the M3. It was a cute VW Polo GTi — not quite as fast as I was used to with him, but I loved it.

‘Now, what did my dad tell you about driving with me in the car?' I asked him cheekily.

‘Something about speeding up …?' he scratched his head.

‘Oi, you better not,' I warned, laughing.

‘Like this?' he faked, revving the accelerator until I punched him in the leg to stop. He grabbed my hand and placed it on his upper thigh, where his had been on mine on the night of
the
party. His leg was warm and muscly.

‘Now, Daisy, don't distract me,' he ordered quietly. ‘I'm trying to drive safely here.'

The hair tingled on my head. ‘I won't. I'm a good girl.'

‘Really? I'll have to do something about that,' he said, braking hard at a set of lights and pulling the handbrake. Reaching out for my face, he guided my cheek to his mouth, and kissed me passionately in front of the waiting drivers at the intersection.

We were interrupted by the sound of horns blaring behind us. Red-faced, I slid down in my seat as people overtook us. Nate laughed. I giggled nervously. He seemed to be able to make me do things I wouldn't normally do. Especially in public. And late at night.

‘So how was the movie last night?' he grinned at me.

I smirked. ‘Oh yeah, you are so bad. I barely got any of the storyline. Biggest waste of money ever.'

I scowled at him in mock anger.

‘Come on, you loved it,' he teased. ‘Next time take me along. We can hide in there and watch the same movie four times, just to make sure you get at least half of it.'

I gasped. ‘You're shocking.'

‘Or we could do some damage in a Bollywood flick and be in the cinema for six hours or something,' he suggested, quite seriously.

‘I don't care, as long as you pay.'

Nate dropped me home late afternoon. The sun was setting. I felt sad. Sunday nights were the pits. It was then that I realised my newfound freedom was only an illusion; work still prevailed.

He kissed me goodbye and promised once again to see me soon, but I wouldn't know when. I could get used to these surprise visits.

I quickly showered to wash away the remnants of the game and began the sluggish task of finishing writing up my history essay as well as studying for my human biology test on Tuesday. I wanted to include somewhere on the test paper that
Homo Erectus
had an erectile dysfunction, but I was sure it wouldn't go down well with Mrs Von Ruse.

On top of that was the preparation for the infamous swimming carnival. I had announced it to the students on Friday with Roman and we were expected to be at the outdoor pool by 7 am to help set up with the other house captains before the busloads of students arrived. At this point I wasn't sure why I signed up for school captain. Who in their right mind would willingly choose to spend more time with Mr Head and be at school functions early? I distinctly remembered a conversation with Roman late last year about how it would be ‘so awesome' to be captains together and help run the school the way the students wanted it. I couldn't see how the swimming carnival was the way I wanted it. Roman got his way with the outdoor pool and I was stuck explaining to the girls why they would have to show their bits in broad daylight with no protection from the sun's unforgiving honesty.

And now, to top it off, thanks to me, Roman and I were in an awkward spot in our friendship. What had possessed me to behave like I did at the markets this morning? What was wrong with me? I couldn't take Roman's joking around with me and I was paranoid Rachael didn't want to be my friend anymore because I had an unofficial boyfriend. It was completely illogical and I didn't know how to stop it.

Was I pregnant? No, that would involve having sex with someone. Unprotected.

Was I PMS'ing? I quickly counted back the days in my head. No, it's not that either.

Was I having a quarter life crisis? Probably not; I hadn't finished school yet — worse was yet to come.

By process of elimination then, it was school's fault. Once I was cured of school, I would have another problem on my hands. What to do after year twelve? I gave up and went to hang with my brothers in the lounge room.