Kick Back

by K J

  Sophia rolled her head sadly. “But I’m not sure if I can give you all of me.” Cam looked down at their joined hands, then back up to Sophia’s eyes.

  “Then I’m not willing to take just the part you can give.”

  Sophia parted her lips like she needed help breathing. “You might fall for me, but I don’t advise it, Cam. I’m too broken.” Her jaw muscles clenched, and Cam reached up to smooth the tension away.

  “Your advice really sucks.” She smiled softly at Sophia. “Here’s something you get to know for free. I’m pretty shit at listening to advice.” She smoothed her thumb over the cheekbone again, and Sophia leaned into her hand.

  “I like you so much, Cam.”

  “I know.”

  “I need to take the risk, don’t I?”

  Cam smiled. “Yeah, you do.”

  “I could get hurt,” Sophia whispered.

  Cam tipped her head slightly. “So could I, sweetheart.”

  They let their fingers play gently together, while the silence grew. Then Cam breathed deeply, and pulled her hands away. “I think I should go.” She lifted onto her toes and kissed Sophia’s cheek, then turned. Cam smiled to herself as Sophia, in what was becoming a signature move, gently held Cam’s wrist and pulled her back.

  “I’d…I’d still like to kiss you.” Sophia shrugged uncertainly. “You know, while I’m working stuff out.”

  Cam smiled into her face. “I expect you to kiss me while you’re working stuff out. It’s the rule.” She winked, then headed towards the door, snagging her glasses on the way. Cam threw on her boots and jacket, then looked back at Sophia, who was standing in the middle of the room.

  “I’m sorry,” said Sophia.

  Cam shook her head. “Don’t be. It’s okay. Take the risk, Soph. I’ll be here when you’re ready.” Then she walked out.

  Chapter Thirteen

  South Melbourne wasn’t really winning. It was more like the hapless team from Sydney was losing spectacularly. Being so new, they’d filled the team list with amateurs and rookies, which made for a collection of enthusiastic women who wanted to play football at a professional level, and then looked shell-shocked at the end of every game. Sophia made a note to herself, as she galloped about in the dreadful Melbourne rain, that after the match she’d find the captain and the six rookies from Sydney and deliver some words of encouragement. It would suck to see them give up after one season.

  She swiped a hand over her eyes to clear her vision, and peered into the distance. Fiona had broken free of her defence. Sophia darted diagonally, focusing her run so that she’d be slightly ahead of Fiona and about ten metres to the side. Fiona made eye contact, then, with a quick feint to skip around a Sydney player who skidded into the muddy grass, handballed to Sophia who caught it, spun to her left, and took off towards their goal. In this weather, she knew better than to bounce the ball to gain more allowable distance, so she bent quickly, touched the tip of the ball to the ground, and then kept sprinting. The ground gripped the soles of her boots, every step heavy with kilograms of mud. Nevertheless, she drew close enough to the goal to administer a quick double-step, and booted the ball solidly, sending both it and her body into the air. The sight must have been daunting for the young Sydney player in front of her, because she waved her arms in a weak attempt at deflecting the ball, then dropped her head as the goal umpire waved the flags about to indicate six points. Sophia glanced sideways at the player as she ran past to resume her starting position. Yep. That’s another one I want to chat to.

  It was not her job to override the captain of the Sydney team. She’d never dream of doing that. But sometimes recognition and encouragement from an opposition player could do wonders for self-esteem. As the football was again kicked away towards their goal, Sophia tossed the concept of self-esteem into the front of her brain. She really thought hers would have taken a battering when Cam had brought their unbelievably sexy make-out session to a grinding halt two weeks ago. But it hadn’t. Cam’s assertion that she’d wait for Sophia and that, meanwhile, kisses were entirely expected and encouraged had Sophia grinning at random moments during the day. And the night, where those moments were greatly assisted by phone calls and text messages, the content of which journeyed down slightly adventurous routes. Despite their busy schedules—Cam with her stories, and Sophia with the increased training sessions that Craig insisted upon as they headed into the finals—they’d managed a couple of actual face-to-face chats. Sophia grinned as she recalled one conversation, which hadn’t moved past salutations and pleasantries, before she’d grabbed Cam’s hand, dragged her into the empty change rooms, and kissed her senseless against the tiled wall. What is it with walls and kissing?

  Muted voices greeted Sophia as she clomped soggily down the corridor into the change rooms after the match. She’d stopped to check in on the Sydney players, which they seemed to appreciate, and so she was the last one into the rooms. She paused in the doorway, as the odd atmosphere filled the space.

  “What’s going on?” she said to Fiona, who was unsticking clothing from her skin.

  “Louise threw up,” Fiona muttered, and rolled her sock down her leg like a donut. Sophia frowned. It seemed a strange atmosphere for a player chucking up. A lot of players did that after some matches, particularly if they were intense. Which today’s wasn’t, so yeah, that’s weird. Sophia walked over the tiles to the back bench to find Louise, shaking, her skin a pasty white, and Fitz holding a bucket near her head. She tossed a glance at her captain.

  “Can I help?”

  Fitz’s lips pulled into a line. Not quite a smile, more an acknowledgement of the offer. “Nah. I told everyone to get showered, otherwise they’ll get cold. I wanna get Louise into a shower too, but I don’t reckon she’s finished.”

  Louise lifted her head, her eyes bloodshot, her brown hair damp and bedraggled. “I’m fine. It’s just, like, food poisoning, I think. I must have eaten something off or taken something. Whatever. I’ll be fine in a minute.” She flipped her hand weakly, from where it hung over her knee, her elbows resting on her thighs. She dropped her head again, as an enormous shiver rippled through her body. Fitz and Sophia stared at each other.

  “Doctor?” Sophia murmured. Fitz shrugged.

  “I can’t make her,” she muttered. Sophia sighed, and looked around the room. Everyone was involved in the business of ridding themselves of mud and grass, except Hara, Naomi, and Mel, who were huddled in the corner. Sophia cocked her head. Along with Louise, the four rookies, five if Leigh was able to get to the games and trainings on her crutches, had retreated into their own little clique in the last month. It hadn’t been obvious. They still mingled and socialised with the team, but to Sophia, it looked very much like they’d established a protective wall. She’d seen it before. The disaffected, vigilant girls who arrived at the shelter would unite against a potential outside threat, and everything about the rookie’s behaviour was setting off alarm bells in Sophia’s mind.

  Determined to get some answers, even to prove to herself that she wasn’t paranoid, Sophia had showered, flung on her training pants and top, checked that Louise was indeed better—perhaps vomiting it all out had been the key— and marched across the walkway into the management offices. One of the perks of playing a match at home was that their manager’s office was only fifty metres away, not halfway across Melbourne. She could hear his whiny voice before she turned the corner, and she paused to listen to the one-sided conversation.

  “Got one of your girls chuckin’ her guts out here. No. Yeah. I dunno if it is. It’s like the girl last month who got the muscle tear. I know. They’re supposed to stop it. How the hell do I know? Nah. Food poisoning. It’ll be fine. Yeah.” The moment of silence grew and Sophia wished for those days when the crash of a handset announced the end of a disagreeable phone conversation, conveniently informing the eavesdroppers to stop eavesdropping. Assuming Dominic had finished his call, Sophia walked around the corner and knocked on his door.

&nbs
p; “Hi Dominic. I’ve got an idea to run by you, if you’ve got a minute.” Sophia threw a smile onto her face and relaxed her posture, despite the needle of her body’s anxiety-driven caution system hovering at high alert. Dominic, his nose striated with red veins even more than usual, stared at her, then grunted, and flipped his fingers towards his chest. Sophia took that as an invitation, and slid into the visitor’s chair at his desk.

  “What is it? I’ve got some stuff that I have to attend to right now.” He met Sophia’s gaze with his little eyes.

  “Mm. Okay. Well, I’d like to run a ‘Come Try Footy’ day on a Sunday, maybe in two weeks, for the kids at the local youth shelters. We could charter some buses to pick them up, put on a lunch for them, maybe give them some team supporter’s gear. I reckon the other players would get into it, particularly the young players who would connect with the kids…” she faded off as Dominic shook his head.

  “Not gonna happen. There’s no money for that sort of stuff. We’re dealing with just the basics for this girls’ comp.” He pursed his lips.

  “What do you mean? That’s what the executive is for, isn’t it? The AFL board divides the money over all the leagues, and we get our share so our league continues to grow,” said Sophia.

  Dominic scoffed. “Some of you chicks believe in fairytales.” Then he snorted. “And we’re not having a bunch of homeless kids running around with footballs. It’s not the publicity we want.”

  “What? It’d be great publicity. Why wouldn’t you want to show the public that?” Sophia shook her head in disbelief, then paused. “Oh. You mean you want publicity like Fitz getting her gear off for a lesbian mag, and The Post publishing articles about the players’ latest underwear purchases, or having the rookies strut around in shopping centres kissing footballs, then going on the Footy Show and getting dunked.” Dominic narrowed his eyes and leaned over his elbows on the desk.

  “Look. I’ve already had this discussion with Craig. You should know that in sport, when you’re trying to get in with the public, sex sells.”

  Sophia widened her eyes. “No, it doesn’t. Sex demeans when it’s not relevant. And the only result from that type of publicity will be to trivialise our sport, then no-one will want to be involved with it, and then we won’t get another season.” Her mind raced at the implications and she ground her teeth at Dominic’s smug expression. “Don’t we want young girls to come to the games because they’re inspired by the players?”

  His laugh was more a bark. “Christ, you’re naive. We want spectators to come to the games.”

  “So, pervy blokes.”

  “Spectators. And if we don’t get any, then you don’t get games.” He slid his gaze down to her chest and back to her eyes. “You’re what? Thirty-something?”

  Sophia breathed deliberately. “Thirty-four.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “Mm. So, it’s your last season. What do you care about the league’s future?”

  Sophia gasped. “You’re kidding?”

  Dominic steepled his pudgy fingers and peered over the top.

  “Of course I care!” Sophia spat out. “This league is important not only for what it represents in relation to equality in sport, but it’s vital for the rookies and first season players to know that what they’re involved in is worth fighting for, that it means something. It’s their chance to fulfil a dream of being recognised as a professional athlete.” She glared at him and lifted her chin in defiance. “Even if I don’t get to play another season, I will have been a part of setting up something great.” She pulled her shoulders back, mainly to add emphasis to her words. Then a thought occurred to her.

  “And another thing, while we’re having this impromptu discussion. I heard that there are some parties that Hara, Naomi, and the other rookies have gone to. What’s that about?”

  Dominic jerked his head, and his face flushed an unpleasant shade of pink. “What? Nothing. I mean, kids go to parties all the time.”

  “Yeah, but these are parties with AFL people.”

  He shuffled his backside about. “Wouldn’t know anything about it. Sorry.” Sophia smelled blood in the water.

  “What about the vitamins that the players are apparently getting?”

  Dominic bared his teeth and sat up higher on his chair. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, missy.” His voice became louder. “You should be grateful you get to play, you know, because you’ll be out soon enough.” His hands, fingers splayed, gesticulated in unison, like he was chopping up words into vocabulary stir fry. “Maybe you should do what Fitz has done and make the most out of this while you can.”

  Sophia sneered. “I’d rather swallow bees.”

  “You,” Dominic snarled, “never know when a good thing will be taken away, girlie.” Then he clutched the edge of his desk, and glared. Sophia blinked slowly, and Dominic pushed his chin forward aggressively. “You know what they say. When you're on your way out, there's the door,” he growled, clearly trying to intimidate. Sophia, having heard stories from the shelter kids which were much more frightening than the round, puffy man in front of her, inhaled deeply.

  “I don't think anyone says that.” However, she took it as a dismissal anyway, and pushed off the arms of the chair. “Thanks so much for listening to my idea. I’ll let you get on with your work.” She squared her shoulders, and stalked out of his office, her mind bubbling with too many thoughts and not enough boxes in which to place them.

  ***

  Tone in a text message is impossible to discern, but Sophia reckoned nervous and tentative could describe the collection of words that formed Naomi’s message that had hovered on her phone screen that morning. The request to catch up was not that unusual; players did so all the time, but Naomi had said that she needed to talk about something important, and that had sent off Sophia’s radar. The café—Sophia quirked her lips when her brain automatically said Cam’s café—located between the shelter and Provender, was suggested and agreed upon. Sophia breathed in the coffee aroma as she let the door swing closed behind her. Magic’s blue eyes sparkled as she grinned from across the collection of tables, and Sophia returned the smile, combining it with a signed hello. They met at the counter.

  “Giancarlo and Morrie comin’ in t’day?” Magic’s hands, when not signing, were in constant motion with counter wiping, cups rearrangement, and herding stray little aluminium table-number tents into an organised clump. Sophia leaned against the wood.

  “I guess. I’m meeting Naomi, though. She wanted to catch up.”

  Magic’s face split into a grin, which made the beads and rings in her ears dance about. “Awesome. Haven’t seen Nay for a while.”

  A painfully thin young woman, fragile in appearance, although Sophia knew that she was far from it, entered through the back storeroom doorway, and leaned into Magic’s shoulder. Magic gazed at her adoringly, and Sophia smiled at her transparent love for her girlfriend.

  “Hey, Pina. How are you going?” Sophia swiped the air in front of her chest and held up her thumb at the end of the motion. Pina beamed, then rapidly gesturing, answered that she was well, going on to further topics such as the comings and goings at the shelter, including the applications in at the council to acquire the use of the next door building. Magic laughed at Sophia’s expression as she attempted to keep up.

  “S’almost like she’s in those sped up videos when she gets goin’,” Magic said through a grin, her hands translating for Pina, who promptly pursed her lips and smacked Magic’s shoulder. They shared a laugh, then Magic’s gaze slipped past Sophia’s head to the door, and she smiled. “Hey Naomi!”

  Naomi tucked a strand of her black hair behind her ear and wound her way around the tables to the counter. Her smile took in the entire group. “Hi Magic. Hey Pina.” Magic began subtly translating and Naomi glanced at Sophia. “Hi. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

  “Nope. Just got here. Been catching up on the goss.” She jerked her thumb at the coffee machine. “What are you
having?” Her question left no room for a challenge as to who would pay, and Naomi gave an infinitesimal nod of gratitude.

  “I’ll have a flat white, please.” She smiled at Magic.

  With their coffees in place at the table by the window, Sophia decided on a tentative approach.

  “So, how’s everything? I only see you at trainings and games, and that’s never the time for a chat.”

  Naomi fiddled with her napkin. “I’m okay. I told you how work is good and the housing situation was sorted. So that’s great.” She stared vacantly at the table top, and Sophia let the silence grow, taking a sip of her coffee. “I wanted to have a chat to you, because, well, you were—are like a mentor to me, and I wanted to run something by you, if it’s okay.” Naomi’s face wore an expression of nervous frustration, and Sophia figured it was because she was rambling. She placed her cup back on the saucer.

  “I love that you see me as a mentor and I’m honoured that you wanted to come to me for advice. I assume, for that reason, Fitz and Craig weren’t up for consideration.” She sent Naomi a quick smile, which was returned.

  “No. Those two have their roles, for sure, and they’re great at what they do, but you…well, you know me from before footy, and that’s what I wanted to talk about.” She sipped at her coffee, holding the cup near her mouth like a protective barrier, then with a sigh, she set the cup on the table and tucked her hair behind her ears. “I don’t think I’m in love with the game anymore, Soph. I think I’ll finish at the end of this season.”

  Perhaps more control over her reaction might have been wiser, because Sophia’s mouth gape did little to calm Naomi’s nervous fidgeting.

  “Why? I mean, you’ve obviously thought about this, but what’s going on?” Sophia braced her elbows on the table and stared at Naomi’s distraught face.

  “I…I just feel like the sport’s moved away from what you taught us in the development program. It’s not about the love of football anymore. I mean, it is for me, and you, and some others, but there’s a real feeling of…unpleasant shit going on and I can’t do that crap anymore, Soph.”