Step Up and Dance (10 page)

‘It's another trick,' said Summer at the bus stop after school.

‘Yeah, probably …' But I didn't want it to be.

‘Anyway, he's got you twice.' She lifted a finger as she listed each trick. ‘The letter and putting your name down for basketball.' Then she held up her thumb on the other hand. ‘And you only got him with the rose.' She rubbed her hands together. ‘You've totally got to get him back again. Can we swap his deodorant with something . . . like dog poo?'

I rolled my eyes, and put on my super-sophisticated-Saph voice. ‘We're a bit classier than that, aren't we, darling?'

‘HEY girls!' From behind me I heard Zoe's high squealy voice.

‘Hey, Zoe,' said Summer with a forced smile.

Zoe bounced up and handed out two mauve envelopes. ‘I'm having the biggest party
ever
!' she squealed. ‘Saturday the fourteenth.
Everyone
will be there …'

I took my envelope but didn't open it. I was having Valentine's Day flashbacks. Bleugh. ‘Thanks, Zoe. But I might have to do cheerleading that night.'

‘Oh.' Zoe pouted and dropped her head – disappointed for real.

‘But if Magic misses out of the semi-finals, I'll be there!' I nodded eagerly. Missing out on parties, even Zoe's ones, was a bummer side to dancing.

‘And if Magic's out of the semis, I'll be there too!' said Summer and flashed another tight smile.

‘Fingers crossed!' squealed Zoe, and then bounded away waving her envelopes in the air.

We watched her go. ‘Zoe was all gaga about Jay last week,' I said quietly so Zoe couldn't hear.

‘
Really!
' Summer raised her eyebrows and did some smoochy air kisses. ‘Maybe we could do something with that.' Then she scrunched up her nose. ‘Maybe not …' We were quiet for a while.

‘Who does
Jay
like?' Summer said eventually.

‘No idea,' I said and shielded my face from the sun as Summer's bus turned the corner. Who
did
he like? ‘Probably the only thing he loves is basketball …'

‘Yeah? That's it then! Go and watch him play.' Summer nudged me. ‘The best way to get your enemy is to find out what
really
makes him tick.'

I laughed and shook my head. ‘Remind me never to get on your bad side, okay?'

Summer winked, slung her bag over her shoulder and started for the bus.

‘Will you come and watch with me?' I called. ‘Tomorrow night at seven-thirty.'

Summer stopped, turned and made a
vomit
face. ‘Nah, been seeing too much basketball lately. There was this player at lunchtime . . . made my eyes water just watching her!'

‘Oh, shut up.'

Then Summer ran back and kissed me on the cheek. ‘Of course I'll come, my darling!' she said as super-sophisticated Summer.

‘Summer, you're a doll!'

Then I headed up the street for my bus stop, glad to have Summer coming with me tomorrow night, especially if it turned out to be a trick after all.

Was Jay up to something? I wasn't sure. Somehow the serious Jay and the prankster Jay just didn't seem to mesh. I couldn't work him out. Sometimes he seemed like my friend. But the kinds of tricks he played had an uncanny ability to turn me into a beetroot. That was the work of an enemy.

‘What's with the sunglasses?'

On Thursday night, Summer met me outside the sports stadium looking like one of Charlie's Angels: high heels, short skirt, short coat . . . and sunglasses. She pushed one arm of the glasses down behind her ear so that they popped up over her eyes. ‘We're on a spy mission, aren't we?' An evening breeze caught her hair, making her look like a Hollywood starlet.

‘Um . . .' I scratched my head, watching a car drive up, and two teenage guys tumble out and run for the side doors.

Already this was feeling weird. Jay's invitation had seemed almost normal at school, in the context of all that basketball talk. But now I felt out of place before we'd even gone inside. Were we walking into another practical joke?

‘I've got provisions too,' said Summer. She started pulling things out of her bag. First, an electronic organiser. ‘For recording our observations.' Next, her mobile. ‘In case we get separated.' A jumbo bag of jellybeans. ‘To keep up our energy levels.' A torch. ‘For if we sneak into the coach's office . . .'

‘Summer!' My eyes were wide and I shook my head.

‘Bit much, you think?' Summer said, cramming it all back in.

‘I'm just glad you're here,' I said, looking at my watch. Our parents thought we were researching a project for school, which was sort of close to the truth.

It felt strange sitting in the stands, watching the action on the court. Normally I'd be down there, in full view of everyone. But now we were way up in the stands and almost out of sight. It felt good to be able to relax and look around. I could see the Bats, but they couldn't see me. Well, not if they had their eyes on the ball!

For a while I let jock-land wash over me – the squeak of basketball boots on the polished floor, the neat lines and curves of the free-throw lane and three-point circle, the bodies already red with effort.

Jay was easy to spot – taller and more agile than the rest. He seemed older than the others too, not just in height, but also in the way his body moved. It was clear that the team looked up to him – straining and panting when Jay asked for extra effort, or smiling when he said something good.

The coach kept calling to Jay too. Jay would run over, and he and the coach would stand together on the sideline, pointing to team members and parts of the court.

‘Why do they bother to make black jellybeans?' said Summer, frowning into her jumbo bag. ‘I mean, who likes black jellybeans?'

‘Some people do,' I said, and picked up the organiser from Summer's lap. ‘My dad loves 'em.'

‘Well here . . .' One by one Summer picked out the black jellybeans and dropped them into my lap. ‘Tell him they're a gift from me.'

I popped a jellybean into my mouth and read the ‘research' that Summer had scribbled on the organiser. It started out with stuff that she thought we could use to humiliate Jay:

skinny legs,

knobbly knees,

daggy clothes.

But then she had clearly got sidetracked:

cute coach
(true, but not helpful)

dumb game.
(Summer wasn't exactly in tune with the enemy.)

I leaned forward, resting my forearms on my knees, trying to absorb everything I saw. Summer was bored because she didn't understand the game (like when she steals my German homework and laughs about
Dumkopf
and
Sauerkraut
). A week ago I would have been the same, but it was as though my lunchtime basketball attempt, and my conversation with Jay, had given me a dictionary of vocab that helped me find meaning in the game.

And now that I had my dictionary, I was super-impressed. Those boys sure could catch. And dribble, and pass the ball . . . and even shoot baskets.

Whack
went the cannonball moving through their hands, like a dot-to-dot ending at the basket. They made it look easy.

Jay's style of play was like Faith's in some ways, central and consistent – the glue holding the team together. He would move in fast, do his bit with the ball, and then coax and encourage the others.

At one point, one of his friends pointed up to me and Summer, nudging Jay in the ribs as he did. For a moment, Jay stood on the centre circle, staring up at us while the ball flew over his head and bodies flocked around him. Then he started moving again, or trying to. Suddenly, Jay seemed younger – gangly and awkward as if he wasn't used to the length of his own arms or the size of his huge feet.

‘You know what I think?' Summer leaned forwards to match how I was sitting. ‘I think Jay's in loooooove …'

‘Really?' I looked at her, then looked away, feeling weird and self-conscious. ‘In love with who?'

For a moment Summer peered into my eyes – her head was tilted, forehead kinked. Then she looked away and laughed. ‘In love with that dumb game.'

‘Oh …' I sat back in my chair, feeling strangely relieved. By now Jay was charging down the court, homing in on the ball with desperate determination as if it were the only thing of value in the world. I could almost see the smoke coming out of his ears.

‘I've got it, Saph, the perfect revenge! All we have to do is write him a letter saying he's been accepted at some big US club, or whatever they call it,' Summer grinned at me. ‘That would really get him.'

‘Yeah, maybe.' I bit my lip, tasting the sugar and hint of liquorice, and stared down at Jay. ‘But it's a bit cruel don't you think?' I didn't want to be too mean about this. Then again, I didn't want to be a pushover either. Bimbo, fake, pushover – if I saw myself through Jay's eyes, I wasn't exactly fearsome opposition.

‘Well, we could tell the coach that he's on drugs and get him kicked off the team.'

‘Summer!' I play punched her on the arm. ‘You're terrible, girl!'

She grinned at me and popped another jellybean into her mouth.

Summer was right, though. Basketball was the perfect way to get back at Jay.

I leaned forward again, resting my elbows on my knees, watching the ball race from hand to hand.

That was when it hit me – the start of an idea at least. Jay loved basketball, but he didn't just love the Bats. There was another club that he loved just as much. Maybe more . . .

And it was a club where I had connections.

We didn't stay for all of the Bats training session. After an hour, Summer started getting fidgety with a wild look in her eyes. Summer on a sugar high? It was time to go home.

‘I don't feel so great,' she mumbled as she tottered behind me down the steps.

We were headed out the main doors when one of Jay's jock friends ran up and blocked our way.

When I saw him, I groaned out loud.
Someone save me!
Chook was thick, in body and mind. He snorted and laughed as we stopped.

Summer and I said nothing, just looked at him. But I could feel Summer beside me, clutching my hand in both of hers, swaying slightly.

‘Hey, Saph, do you have a crush on one of the Bats boys?' Chook cracked up laughing like a loon.

‘As if …' I pulled on Summer's hand and went to walk past Chook. But he moved to block my way.

‘Well, what are you doing here then?' Another dumb snort. He had a look in his eye like a bear about to grab its lunch.

Summer squeezed my hand. ‘Is this Jay's next joke?' she giggled, tickling my ear with her breath. ‘Better not be, 'cause then you'll be two behind.'

I shook my head, unsure. My heart was thudding in my throat.

Then I heard a familiar voice behind us. ‘Chook, rack off.'

I turned to see Jay approaching, red faced and angry. He pulled Chook out of our way.

‘All right, all right!' Chook lumbered off, snorting and laughing.

Already Summer was pulling me out of the double doors, escaping while the path was clear.

‘Hey, Saph, thanks for coming …' Jay called, raising one arm in a kind of wave.

I turned and walked back a few steps. But all I could do was nod before Summer pulled me away. I stumbled after her in the darkness, leaving Jay behind in the bright light.

CHAPTER
7

‘Thanks, Dad!' I blew him a kiss as I got out of the car.

‘Normal pick-up time?' he asked, hands on the steering wheel like always.

‘Normal time,' I said, scooping up my million-and-one bags. ‘But I'll call your mobile if anything changes.'

In a flash, Dad's eyes darted to me, then relaxed into a smile as he saw me giggle and wink.

‘Just joking …'

‘Saph,' he said, shaking his head as if he wasn't sure what to think.