Chapter 7: Football Practice

  Holly trudged down the muddy path that led around the back of the multigym and out onto the university pying fields. It was a bit too early; she realised as she arrived at the little kit-locker where the teams usually assembled and found none of her teammates waiting for her. Not the best start – she had been anxious to get going, to get the first practice under her belt and take the first step in her task of winning glory that men would speak of for years to come. Or something - that was the gist of it, anyway.

  She could go for a bit of a jog; she thought to herself as she kicked off her trainers and pulled on a pair of white and red football boots. It was a good antidote to the winter fog that crept through the weft of her shirt and chilled her shoulders, and it would warm up her muscles for practice. She gnced up, thinking of running a couple of figure eights around the two nearest pitches and to her surprise there was a figure at the far end of one of them.

  “Charlie,” she called over with a wave.

  The men’s captain looked up from his task (he had been collecting up a set of practice fgs and pcing them into a canvas holding bag) and waved back. “Hey Holls, are you here for practice?”

  “I think I’m a bit early actually,” she compined, jogging over to him.

  “Yeah, girls’ practice is at 3pm, isn’t it?” He showed his watch, letting Holly read off the digits 2:35.

  “Guess I’m just a bit keen,” she chuckled, rubbing her shoulders. “Fuck, it’s nippy today, isn’t it?”

  He smiled sympathetically, “Fancy a bit of a kick-about, get you warmed up?”

  “Oh defo,” she smiled decisively at the thought of having a ball to her feet, “Pele’s Seven?”

  “If you like,” he agreed, grabbing one of the soccer balls from his holding bag and bouncing it over to her. “You first?”

  Pele’s Seven was one of the more difficult tricks, requiring the pyer to flick the ball from the ground and bounce it once on each foot, knee and shoulder on the way up to the forehead. It wasn’t easy - Holly got as far as the fifth bounce on this try, before the ball bounced awkwardly off her left shoulder and span away.

  “So how was practice?” she called back over her shoulder as she jogged to recover the ball.

  “Not bad,” Charlie called back, catching her pass on his chest and setting up his own attempt. “But not great either, to be honest.”

  “Oh really?” Holly asked curiously. “No problems I hope, Skip?”

  “Same as ever,” Charlie shook his head, “We just don’t have anyone who can py with Faddy upfront. You know, I even tried Pot Noodle as striker for a bit st week?”

  Holly felt a little twinge of guilt. With all the drama that Georgie’s curse had wrought upon her own life it hadn’t even occurred to her that Harry’s absence might hurt his own team. “He’s not so bad though right? He’s good with the ball, just needs to work on his fitness a bit.”

  “Yeah, well he’s a big d, and he likes going in for headers as well,” Charlie said, swearing a little as the ball bounced erratically off his own knee, ending his attempt. “But like you said, he just didn’t have the fitness – honestly he stopped to walk half the time.”

  Holly gave a knowing smile. As a defender, Pot Noodle could afford to be a bit slower, since he was strong and deceptively skilful, and he didn’t mind throwing his body into a tackle. Likewise, a winger could afford to be a bit more delicate if they were fast enough, since their job involved running into the big open parts of the field where there was no-one to tackle them. The thing with pying as a striker, though, was that you needed all those strengths with none of the weaknesses. Fast and fit enough to escape the opposition defence, strong enough to keep them from battering you about if you couldn’t, and with the skill and aggressiveness to sm the ball into the goal in the half-second or so you might win for yourself at the end of it all.

  “You could py Faddy as a single striker?” Holly suggested thoughtfully, “Put someone else in midfield instead?”

  “Yeah, I think that’s what we’ll need to end up doing,” Charlie gave her an approving smile. “You’ve got a good head for tactics, Owen.”

  “Just seemed obvious, I mean, Arsenal are pying with just one striker this year as well,” Holly gave a little shrug and gnced down at her feet almost apologetically. It had been a shrewd enough suggestion, as such things went, but she’d hardly call it a brilliant insight. She found her foot drifting back towards the football, and she flicked it up again, dancing it off each body part in turn, until finally bouncing it off her forehead and catching it in her arms.

  “Yeah,” she muttered triumphantly. The game was just difficult enough to give her a little thrill of satisfaction whenever she completed it perfectly.

  “Good work, Holls,” Charlie chuckled, “I never can get the hang of this one. Here, give us another go then?”

  “Pele’s Seven?” Kate called out, as she and Violet Bradshaw jogged up to join them. “Mind if I give it a go?”

  She got to five bounces herself and passed it on to her companion.

  “Oh bugger this for a game of trousers,“ Violet compined, managing to bounce the ball off each of her feet while looking a bit like she was about to fall over. “I don’t know how you do this.”

  “Just needs practice,” Charlie smiled. “How’re you doing anyway, Vi? Big Steve said you two made pns for Saturday?”

  Violet smiled proudly, “Yeah, he’s taking me to Octavia’s Bistro, the new Italian restaurant in town.”

  “Bloody hell?” Kate smiled, impressed despite herself. “I’ve heard it’s very nice there, very posh.”

  “Yeah, Steve’s had a table booked there for weeks,” she answered, looking a little like the cat that had gotten the cream. “Supposedly they make their own chocote, in-house.”

  “Be nice to think someone would take me there someday,” Kate agreed, aiming a surreptitious gnce at Holly from the corner of her eye.

  “Come on Kate, you girls must be beating the ds off with a stick,” Charlie chuckled. He put his own ball back in the bag and began to gather up his kitbags. “How about you, Holls, do you have anything pnned for Valentines?”

  “Erm…” Holly hesitated. It was an innocent enough question, or should have been, yet something in Charlie’s tone gave her pause and as she met her friend’s eye she suddenly felt as though her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. “I…”

  “We’ve made pns,” Kate cut in smoothly. “Just a bit of a girl’s night, for us rejects that can’t get dates!”

  “I.. Err… Yeah, that’s right,” Holly suddenly remembered, “We were just going to stay in, drink some wine, box of chocs, a DVD of Titanic, that sort of thing.” She found herself growing a little in confidence as she warmed to her theme.

  “I mean that sounds pretty fun,” Charlie shrugged, “But it is Valentines Day and everything. Why don’t you girls come out to Rios instead? They’re doing some sort of lucky dip blind date; I think it’s called.”

  “Sounds a bit daft, mate,” Kate raised an eyebrow.

  He shrugged, “Could be fun. Better than sitting in your dorm room, isn’t it?”

  “Charlie Wood or Leo Di Caprio,” Violet chirped, fshing a slightly clumsy wink at Holly and Kate, “Whoever would a girl choose?”

  Holly eyed her old captain a little remorsefully. It felt like a bit of a cold shoulder, and that sort of silly gimmick night did seem the sort of thing that Harry and the ds would have found fun just a few days ago. Now though – she gave a little shiver at the imagine of some faceless boy walking up on stage and pulling her name from a big pot – yeah, she’d prefer the DVD and the chocotes, thank you very much.

  “We did already pn it, Skip. Maybe next time though, alright?”

  “Yeah, no probs,” he shot a careless smile as he slung his bags over his shoulder. “Anyway, I should get all this stuff back to the car. You guys have a good practice, alright?”

  “Did you not fancy Rio’s then?” Holly asked as Charlie headed off and the rest of them made their way over to the rest of the team. She didn’t either of course, but the way Violet seemed to have begun cooing over the pair’s movie night had made Holly feel a little defensive.

  “What, you want to go speed-dating now?”

  Holly shook her head. “No, of course not. Just asking is all.”

  “You know he fancies you, right?” Violet said abruptly. “Charlie, I mean.”

  “What?” Holly was so wrongfooted that she almost turned to gauge Kate’s reaction, as though Violet had accused Harry’s friend of having designs on his (not-quite) girlfriend. But her head didn’t quite turn; there was no need to, because obviously Violet wasn’t talking about Kate. Charlie wasn’t exactly an enigma wrapped up in a puzzle and a mystery – or whatever that Churchill quote was – and even Holly couldn’t pretend that her old captain’s gnces weren’t just a little longer, his warm smiles just a little broader than she could ever remember them being back when she was only his good mate Harry.

  She gave a little snort of exasperation and tried to banish the thought. At the very least the soccer pitch awaited. She could leave all of this madness on the touchline for an hour, and get stuck in to what she did best, the one thing that made her feel like she was still truly herself. And she could take the first step towards winning back her old life, while she was at it.

  “I’m just saying, is all,” Violet was flushing a little under a pair of annoyed gnces, “Anyway, come on. Skip’s waiting for us.”

  “Yeah, I mean she’s not wrong, is she?” Kate shook her head as she pulled Holly forward into a jog, “We’ll talk after practice, alright babe?”

  *

  At the sound of the whistle Holly sprinted forward, tapping the ball past the first defender and then nimbly sidestepping the second. She was through, one-on-one with the goalkeeper, and she pulled back her boot to slip the ball into the bottom left corner of the goal.

  “Oh, Fucking Hell!”

  She punched the air with frustration. Somehow, the first defender had caught up with her again and, though she hadn’t stopped the shot, her appearance had distracted Holly enough that the ball only went bobbling mely into the goalkeeper’s waiting arms. She winced a little at herself as she cpped the defender on the back and jogged back. Holly – or Harry, once – took pride in never getting worked up or losing his temper during games, preferring to leave such outbursts to the likes of Pot Noodle, who often found himself in the sin-bin for his antics.

  “Not bad Owen, just need a little more fizz on the finish.”

  “No worries, Skip, I’ll get it next time.” Holly called back at her new captain Helen Bell, a tall bck Liverpudlian girl. She rejoined the back of the line, puffing out her cheeks in frustration. Nothing seemed to be working today, every pass and shot seemed to be just a little bit less than she was capable of. It wasn’t that she was necessarily doing badly - compared to the rest of the team only Kate had so many goals - but she was Harry Owen, for God’s sake, superstar of the men’s team. She ought to be good enough to lead this team to victory in the University Cup, come what may. And that meant, unless she wanted to remain a woman for the rest of her life, she would need to pick it up a gear or two.

  The whistle blew again and a moment ter Kate was wheeling away, kissing the badge of her bck and white Newcastle United shirt in triumph at another goal. Holly joined the polite appuse. They weren’t meant to be keeping a score from this little exercise, but she had each of them neck-and-neck with seven goals each.

  Ahh but Holly had one more run at the drill.

  The whistle blew for a final time and Holly surged forward. The defender leapt forward, baseball-sliding along the grass with her foot outstretched to win the ball, but Holly scooped the ball up with her foot and popped it forward, leaping up and over her sliding adversary as she hurtled past.

  One more.

  Holly’s heart raced and she almost felt as though she was in a proper match. She basically was, she realised, even this simple striker’s drill marked the start of the most challenging game she would ever py. One that if she lost could leave her helplessly trapped in the wrong body for the rest of her life.

  Gwen Stafford, as it turned out, was the second defender, and Holly bested her easily. She feinted left, even to the point of tapping the ball lightly so it moved with her, then, as soon as she saw Gwen take the bait, she spun, quicker than a whisper, and flung herself to the right. Even at the st the bigger girl tried to check herself, but she was hopelessly wrongfooted, and almost tripped over her own feet as Holly flew past.

  But Holly had clipped the ball just a hair too hard and it went further – six inches, a foot further than she wanted, and the goalkeeper Nowak was already sprinting out to pounce on it and she was sure to get there before Holly.

  She hurtled on, almost fancying she could hear the mocking ughter of ancient gods ringing in her ear as she threw herself desperately at the ball. Her body collided into the other girl, and they fell together in a tangle of arms and legs, but somehow, by some miracle, she had managed to poke the ball with the very tip of her toe and as she felt herself crash to the ground she let out a little sigh of relief to watch the muddy football bobble over the goal line.

  “That’s a goal,” she said, painfully hauling herself up to her feet.

  “Looks more like a car-wreck,” Violet opined doubtfully.

  Helen blew her whistle. “Foul py, no goal.”

  Holly winced at her in disbelief. “It’s a fair goal, Skip, I’m entitled to challenge for the ball.”

  “Fair? You nearly knocked Anita into next week.”

  Holly felt a surge of doubt as she saw Gwen and Violet helping the goalkeeper to her feet. She had a finger and thumb pinched to the bride of her nose and there was a little blood trickling from her left nostril.

  “I…” There was a brief moment when something ugly within her wanted to protest, to reason that football was a man’s game, and if the girls couldn’t handle a fair challenge, then that was their problem. But she couldn’t really make herself believe that. Quite apart from the bloody scuffs on her knees and the numbness in her left leg from when Kate had cttered into her fifteen minutes before, she had only to see in her mind’s eye how such an incident would have been received by the men’s team.

  “Fucks sake mate, what the hell are you pying at?” Faddy Ahmed would say, gring at him with disapproval.

  “Yeah, might want to save that for the other guys, bud,” Charlie would agree, even as he gave Harry a reconciling cp on the back.

  “I… Yeah – I mean, I’m sorry Ani, are you alright?”

  “I will live,” the tall Polish girl answered with a slightly pained smile as she accepted Holly’s handshake, “It was lucky for me that you are so small.”

  Holly rolled her eyes a little, but she had to allow that one, she supposed. She gave Anita another little nod for apology and turned back to her captain. “My bad, Skip,” she called over, “I guess I just got carried away. You know, the University Cup and all that.”

  “Yeah, I get it, Owen. Look, it’s great that you’re so motivated but we aren’t winning anything nowt if you muller half the team.” Helen shook her head and gnced up as a single raindrop spshed onto her forehead. “Alright girls, that’ll do for today. Let’s get packed up and get to the pub.

  *

  “So, Gwen, you’ll start next to Vi in midfield alright? Just do what she tells you and you’ll be good.”

  “Anything you want, Skip,” Gwen said, wrapping herself up in a pink towel as she stepped out of the changing room showers.

  “Great stuff. You’ll do brilliant, Gwen,” Helen nodded, “Is your Rose pnning to show up next weekend, love?”

  “I think so, I’ll need to check with her,” Violet answered, setting out a white t-shirt and a purple team jacket with the name ‘Violet ‘Where’s My Sister Gone?’ Bradshaw’ printed on the back.

  “And of course our girls Owen and Niijima up front as always. Holls, I know Bownd are our biggest rivals but if you could try not to put their keeper in hospital, that’d be great?”

  “I’ll do my best,” she smiled as she pulled off a muddy sock and tossed it into her kitbag. “Bownd – is it between them and us for the cup then?”

  “Kate?” she asked again, giving her friend an amiable nudge with her elbow, “Are you listening?”

  “Oh, what?” Kate jerked herself to attention. “Bownd? Yeah, they’re pretty good.”

  “So, this game we’re pying next week, it’ll decide who wins the cup?” Holly furrowed her brow, trying to get some measure of how the competition y.”

  “Christ Holls, you don’t pay attention, do you?” Violet chuckled, tossing her shirt back into her kitbag. “The game next week is more of a test – we’ve already qualified for the final four.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you can just muck about,” Helen chided, “It’s the local derby for one, and apart from that, we might end up pying them again in a month and we need to get the upper hand.”

  “Er yeah, right…” Holly replied cautiously. Truth be told she didn’t exactly know what the final four was supposed to be (though it sounded like a sort of pyoff), but it was so obviously something that a senior pyer should know all about that she couldn’t think of a way to probe for further information without making herself seem like a complete idiot.

  “Kate, are you alright?” She’d turned to her friend, thinking that perhaps she would have something to add, but Kate was gazing down at the floor, and it seemed all the colour had drained from her cheeks.

  “I… I’m fine,” she whispered, fidgeting her thumbs together.

  “Are you sure, sweetie?” Gwen said, throwing on a pale blue hoodie. She ambled over and touched Kate’s shoulder sympathetically. “You do look really pale – we could go to see the campus nurse if you feel sick?”

  Kate flinched. “I… No, I mean yeah, I’m alright, just feel a bit sick.” She looked around for a moment and then, as though she had reached a decision, she got to her feet. “Look, I’m just going to head back to my dorm for a bit of a lie-down. You lot have fun at the pub though – don’t drink too much and all that.”

  “But are you sure… I’ll walk you back home at least?”

  “Honestly I’m fine,” Kate hadn’t yet changed, but she threw the st of her gear into her bag and pulled a bck jumper over her muddy football shirt. “You go out with the girls, Holl, It’ll do you – I mean, it’ll be fun.”

  “Alright,” Holly relented as she reached the door. There was in any event only so far that she could follow in a sports bra and a pair of shorts. “I’ll text you in a bit, Ok?”

  “Let us know if you need anything,” Gwen said, eying her with concern, “Paracetamol, Chamomile? I’ll pop by with some stuff for you in a bit?”

  “You’re a star, Gwen,” she replied over her shoulder as she began, he way home. “Look, I’ll message you ter, ok?”

  “Come on Holls,” Violet chided her as she made her way back inside. “Showers are free now, if you ever want to get to the pub.”

  Holly nodded as she climbed out of her shorts and followed the other girl into the steamy shower room.

  “So, remind me what we know about Bownd College,” she said as she stepped under the jet and grabbed a cake of cracked yellow soap. “How do they py, who do we need to watch out for?”

  She frowned thoughtfully as her friend chattered on. She knew, probably, that she would need to get changed with the other girls after practice, but perhaps because she had been so fixated on training, she had not given it much thought on the way back from the football pitch. Now she was here though, a little to her surprise Holly was finding it quite manageable. She was aware, of course, that she was in the shower without any clothes on, and that Violet Bradshaw was massaging shower gel on herself just a few feet away. And she did note with relief that the sight of a bathing girl might still be the sort of thing that could excite her interest, if she was in the right frame of mind. But on the whole, while it might be a bit distracting, even awkward if she dwelt on it too long, it wasn’t exactly a dispy of the sort to have her eyes popping out of her head like some kind of overly amorous cartoon coyote.

  It almost felt normal, in fact. It might be all very well for Harry to daydream of hanging out in a steam room with a dozen sexpots prancing around him, but as it turned out the girls seemed more interested in practical things like rummaging around for their socks or checking their phone for messages. Actually, they seemed to do exactly the sort of mundane things that the ds did when they were getting changed. And they were Holly’s teammates at the end of the day. So, was it not normal then, that she would find herself more interested in picking Violet’s brains about the next game than gawking stupidly at her tits? Holly allowed herself a prim nod of approval as she turned and listened attentively to her friend.

  *

  Kate pulled up her hood against the chill as she stomped down the leafy side-path to her dorm block. Though her face was pale as frosted gss, her heart pounded harshly against her chest and her insides were boiling and churning. She strode quickly, but her arms were crossed as she went, and she rubbed her shoulders with both of her hands. The action warmed her a bit, of course, but if she was being really honest, she did it because it made her feel smaller, less easily noticed. More than anything she needed to get back to her room, just a chance to be alone for a moment and work out what the fuck was happening to her. At st, she reached the front gate and with a sigh of relief slipped her key into the lock. It was te afternoon, by now, and the little drizzle of rain was abating. Overhead, the daylight was beginning to fade as well and, as the sky ebbed to a dark bluish grey, a thin crescent of silver moon could be seen beside the pale, wintery sun.