Hockey One!

Hockey One!

The icy grass crunches beneath my boots. A cold wind lifts up my skirt
and I quickly smack it down again. I hate wearing skirts and I feel
like the whole world can see my undies. My big sister gave me her boots
but they are too big. Mum stuffed some toilet paper in them and
promised me a new pair - maybe, if I play well.

It's bloody freezing way back here. I'm the left wing, Sharon's the
right wing and Jenny is the goalie. We've been playing for ages and the
ball hasn't come down here once. Sharon is talking to some boys on the
sideline and Jenny is watching a kite flapping around in the wind. Me,
I am trying to keep my eye on the ball cause I want to be ready. The
coach says that if I can play as good as my sister she'll move me into
an attack position. "Hockey-one, hockey-two, hockey-three", I say
quietly and imagine giving the ball a really hard WHACK!

Jenny doesn't like me much. She just had her tenth birthday and she
invited all the girls from the team - except me. I heard it was really
good and they all slept over at Jenny's house. They said that Jenny got
a brand new record player for her birthday and an Abba record. Jenny
told Sharon and Sharon told me that she didn't like me cause I was a
'tomboy' and my hair was curly. I've been wearing my sister's Girl
Guide hat to bed every night but my hair won't stay flat.

A skinny girl with big long bony legs is dribbling the ball this way. I
hang on tight to my stick and move up to block her. She smells like
sunlight soap as she flies past me and spins the ball towards the goal.
Jenny gives me a real greaser as the ball hits the back of the net. The
whistle blows. One nil to them and it's all my fault.

"Defence! Lift your game," says the coach - looking right at me. I can
feel my face go bright red, the same colour as my stupid short skirt. A
hard poke in the back makes me spin around. "Sorry", says Jenny but
then she sort of laughs and says, "Curly-headed tomboy freak". Everyone
laughs and the coach just looks away and I look down at my toilet paper
stuffed boots.

I reach out for the last bit of orange and Jenny shoves her elbow into
me and grabs it from the plate. "Sucker", she says as she puts the
fruit up to her mouth "WHAAA", screams Jenny. A wasp flies away as
Jenny's lower lip starts to swell like a big red toffee apple.

They strap on the fat pads to my legs and I can hardly walk. I've never
played goal before and I'm terrified. I have to keep wiping my hands on
my skirt to stop my stick slipping. I never wanted to be the goalie, I
wanted to play centre and do the hockey-one, hockey-two, hockey-three
thing and get past all the girls and sticks and whack the ball into the
goal and go to the birthday parties and sing Abba songs.

Hopefully, the wasp will come back and sting me and I can go home
wrapped in a blanket, like Jenny. But I can't see the wasp. I can see
Sharon talking to the boys and I can see the kite as it comes crashing
down and I can see the bony-leg girl rushing toward me and aiming and
swinging her stick up real high and ? the ball hits the back of the
net.

My toes scrunch up against the toilet paper as I trudge home.