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12 Yards Out

Page 18

by Javi Reddy


  Jay slid across closer to her and kissed the back of her neck.

  “I’m not scared to let you in. To let you be a proper part of me. I’ve been hurt too. My body’s a wreck, in fact.”

  Jay placed her hand on his left quad. It was the injury that he had told her about the last time when they were here. Jay let her feel the tear properly. It dipped in fairly deep and she was slightly taken aback by it at first, but she soon rubbed it compassionately.

  “I can take whatever my body has to take. I can hurt wherever I have to hurt. There is just one thing I can’t do. Watch you suffer.”

  She smiled through her tears and whispered in his ear: “Don’t hurt yourself just yet. You have to beat Rose Park…”

  He kissed her once more, knowing it was not only her lips growing closer to him. She removed his t-shirt and ran her nails over his abdomen. She moved her nails over to his back. He reached for her bra and she did not stop him. Two young hearts thudded for each other’s bodies. Bodies that soon became one. Her mouth opened widely as he moved in deeper. He kissed her neck to soothe her and she smelt like home.

  He had not felt a sense of internal acceptance for as long as he could remember, until that night. They fell asleep in each other’s arms and when he woke again, all the candles had burnt out. He had made sure that the blanket covered all of her. He put his shirt back on.

  “What’s that?”

  He didn’t think that she was still awake. She’d caught him putting his chain back around his neck. He took it off once more and fondly held it in his palms.

  “The silver chain is mine. The attachment was my mother’s.”

  He cupped his hands and held it up to her, so she could see it clearly.

  “It’s her hospital tag from the day she passed away. It’s all I really have of her. That and the photo of her which I keep at my bedside.”

  She stood up and rested her arms on his shoulders before kissing him.

  “She was a doctor. Which is messed up, you know. You never think they get sick. That sick.”

  “How did she pass away?”

  “She had a brain tumour. She passed away shortly after I was born, so I didn’t even get to have any sort of life with her. Neurology has never been kind to the Chetty family.”

  “You have a chance to live the life you want. Epilepsy will never decide that. You have a beautiful brain. A wonderful mind. Use it to win the cup. Not for Rosebank but for yourself.”

  “And what if we don’t win? What if I can’t get them there?”

  “Then, there’s more out there for you. Your mum’s not here, but that doesn’t mean she’s left you. Let her shine through in whatever life you choose—a life with or without football.”

  Girlfriends have the ability to say things which boyfriends find hard to capture. Things that lie in the deepest, darkest lobes of their minds that girls probe and bring to the surface. That’s how one half complements the other. That’s how everything is instantly right. She was more than just sexy curves and cute smiles. Amritha was his reason. Everyone needed a reason.

  “This is something that my mother gave me.” She removed her own chain from her neck.

  "Before I was born, she and my dad went to India. They spent a few years just outside Kashmir, doing community work and teaching kids English. My mother loved nature, so my dad would often take her to a forest that wasn’t very far away from the hut in which they stayed.

  "One day, they came across a fledging stag. The fawn had injured its foot and could not even walk. My parents could not find any other stags nearby, which meant that the baby had been abandoned. They took the fawn in and it became an important part of their lives. It grew into a beautiful, adult stag. The majestic creature was the missing piece that they’d searched for when they felt lonely and homesick at times.

  "Unfortunately, the Kashmiri stag was a rare species and that meant that poachers would often try to get their hands on it so that they could use the animal’s antlers and rich coat for rich financial rewards.

  "One day, the poachers attacked the hut at nightfall whilst my parents were asleep. My father raced out to fight off as many as he could, but he was outnumbered. A miracle saved my parents. Their beloved pet raced to their rescue and kicked and stamped away as many poachers as it could. My father was injured, but not as severely as the stag. It was the last night that my parents spent with their favourite animal.

  “In the morning, it took its final breath. My dad decided that there was nothing left for them in India, so they moved back to South Africa shortly after. They had the stag cremated before they left and spread its ashes in the forest that was its natural home. They kept an antler as a reminder of the creature they so dearly loved. When I was born shortly after, they made a pendant for me out of the tip of the antler. They believed that the soul of the animal would keep me safe and always watch over me.” She looked at the necklace long and hard, then made her choice.

  “I want you to have it. I always want you to be safe.” Jay looked at the chain in his hands and made his choice. “I love you.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t say it back. It’s not fair. People blurt it out all the time. Especially, people our age. They don’t know anything about it. Or maybe they do. I just don’t think there should be an age restriction on it. Is there an age restriction on breathing? Or eating? Because…”

  “You’re rambling now.”

  “Probably because I’m in love.”

  “Probably. I can ramble too. But I prefer this…”

  She leapt into his arms and wrapped her legs around him. She pressed her nose hard against his. “I. Love. You. More.”

  Each word was accompanied by a kiss. Each one tasted sweeter than the one before. She put the necklace on him. They spent the rest of the night in the ballroom. And for the first time in ages, they both fell asleep without any hassle.

  4 October 2013. Hope

  The joyous days from the ballroom had sparkled out, even when Amritha tried to relive the wonder in her head. Her spine began to ache as she lay against the cold, cruel floor. A cycle of being beaten, tortured, starved and ridiculed would do that to a person.

  Now, the hooded man had entered the room. She barely had the energy to breathe, let alone to look up at him. She could not believe it. The most important thing was that he had put a beat back into her fading heart. He tilted a silver bowl towards her mouth as she lay in his arms and let the water trickle in. He removed his hooded jacket and wrapped her in it.

  “How? How did you…?”

  She could not complete her words. She was broken, deflated, flabbergasted, relieved—every emotion possible had weaved its way into her withered existence.

  “Come, you must eat.”

  He took out more fruit from his sports bag. He gave her a banana, an apple and a plum, which she slowly tucked into. She rested for a few minutes before sitting up.

  “So, do you have a plan?”

  He looked around the darkened room that had nothing but a small, fading lightbulb hanging down from the centre. It was impossible for Amritha to fully gauge her surroundings. Vinny had moved her from room to room. Nothing was constant. Not the location. Not the pain. But that was not to say that the hooded man did not know the layout of this place fairly well. He had watched over Vinny and Amritha the last few days, gaining insight into this hell hole.

  “The one thing I have in my favour is the element of surprise. I’ll have to find a way of using that. When I come back I’ll have something more feasible.”

  “Come back? Where are you going?”

  The man noticed an instant fear in her, in the way she gripped his arm as he got up to leave. Terror gave her the strength to clench hard.

  “I can’t be seen here. That will defeat the purpose. And we both can’t leave right now. You need to build up your strength and I need to build up our strategy. Until then, we can’t do anything. Just stay here. It’ll all be over soon.”

  “Promise you�
�ll come back.”

  She hugged him and pressed her face into his chest. The display of warmth made him uncomfortable. It reminded him of a time when he had compassion in his life. All those years ago, when everything was far simpler.

  “I promise.”

  She smiled at him and he remembered how much joy that smile brought to Jay. She kissed him on the cheek.

  “Thank you, Uncle Preega.”

  Chapter 23

  4 October 2013. 8:00 PM

  James clicked his fingers as if he’d just figured out an algebra equation that he’d been trying to solve for years.

  “The pendant. That’s what Vinny wanted from you two, so badly.”

  “There are less than 160 Kashmiri stags left in the world, today. They are that rare and more specifically, they are the only Asiatic member of the European red deer family.”

  Jay delivered his response as if he was both a historian and a biologist.

  “That antler must be extremely valuable. It’ll be worth more than any rhino horn Vinny can get his greasy paws on.” “Exactly.”

  “So where is it now?” Layla finally joined the conversation.

  “Honestly? I don’t know.”

  Layla and James looked at him, utterly perplexed.

  “I kept it in my drawer and only wore it on match-days. A few weeks ago, I opened the drawer, and it was gone. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, as long as Vinny thinks I have it, he can’t hurt Amritha. He can’t do anything until he gets his hands on the pendant.”

  “That’s a risky game to play,” James told him.

  Layla moved over and dusted a little fluff off Jay’s shoulder. It was warm inside the ballroom, even though there was a chill in the air, outside.

  “So, your mum was a doctor? That’s phenomenal.”

  “More than that—she was a surgeon,” Jay responded. “Apparently, she had amazing hands. Steady, unwavering hands. That was a rare gift in the medical world, back in the day. And she was far gentler than her male colleagues, which made her stand out. She was one of the best in her field.”

  “See, you do know something about your mum!” James pressed his hands down on Jay’s shoulders.

  “Amritha was right. Live life, my boy. Live it.”

  “So, what happened next? I mean the big quarter-final. Sorry, I missed that one,” Layla conceded. “That game was so big,” Jay said. “And to realise just how big, you have to understand the history between the two teams…”

  10 August 2013. Two Roses in a cup

  Rose Park always had more money than Rosebank, which meant that they had invested more into their school, which meant that they had a certain power. And that meant that they often got what they wanted, when they wanted.

  Rosebank were no paupers. Jay was not under the illusion that they themselves had not enjoyed certain perks that came with being a school in the Northern part of Johannesburg. But they couldn’t compare to Rose Park financially, and their rival’s money seemed to widen the gap between the two schools.

  Yet, if it was just about the money, Jay doubted if they’d be as bitter towards each other as they were. No, the animosity stemmed from a historical battle that ultimately pushed them into being fierce competitors. In the mid-80s, Rosebank had its youngest and most innovative headmaster at the helm.

  Ian Thompson, was not yet 30 when he held his position at the head of the school. He had gotten there by ingenuity and forward thinking that had helped Rosebank High rank amongst the top schools in the country. He pulled in the right teachers and made learning enjoyable for pupils rather than it being a stern, rigid form of education. He ensured that there were fine facilities for both athletes and for those who were interested in pursuing academics.

  Thompson personally visited classes from time to time to ensure that he was seen as a people’s headmaster and not some fat cat trying to profit off Rosebank’s growing prosperity. He encouraged anti-apartheid movements which got him into trouble in the beginning of his spell in charge, but as democracy grew in the country, so too did his admirers. He was even born and raised in Rosebank. The perfect headmaster on paper.

  Then it all changed. Rose Park had been living in Rosebank’s shadow for too long and had a dire need to shake things up. At first, their money attracted new talent that helped them compete with Rosebank in small doses in tennis matches and chess tournaments. That obviously wasn’t enough. They had to be dominant in their pursuit of being number one.

  Anything less would be an embarrassment, which is why the board sought outside help. They needed an investor—someone who’d blow everything wide open for the school, and they found it in a teacher’s uncle. A very, very wealthy uncle. The man was a founder of a very successful fast food chain, and he couldn’t wait to dip his oily fingers into the school. Rose Park High’s already handy capital was immediately boosted and it wasn’t too long before they started poaching young talent from all over the country.

  Still, that wasn’t enough, so they went abroad. Students from London, Beijing and North Carolina were enticed to join the school. They were being put up in first class dorms that had the best facilities. They had a canteen with international chefs, various entertainment rooms and a spa available to them at all times. Their students were more than well taken care of and slowly, Rose Park started dominating on both sporting and academic fronts. They made the right progress in the main sports, like cricket and rugby. Yet, somehow, the public still preferred Rosebank.

  Even though their teams were no longer the best, Rosebank had more of a communal, amicable image attached to its school. That did not sit well with Rose Park, but they were not to be denied. They knew what the missing piece was and they eventually got their man. It was rumoured that the package they offered Thompson, to make the move across, was more than what most accountants or doctors earned. No headmaster had ever received that type of money. But Rose Park had that money and they gladly used it on a man whom they had identified to lead them into a new era. And in that single move from Thompson, the hatred, bitterness and general antagonism, unleashed a bitter rivalry.

  With Thompson at the helm, he found better teachers than Rosebank’s, along with better methods of learning, and of course, he even started to poach pupils from Rosebank. When he retired, his work did not. His legacy was so strong that every headmaster employed at Rose Park after that followed his model of leadership.

  The poaching continued, and current headmaster, Matthew Harrison, had upheld Thompson’s beliefs more than any other predecessor. He even tried to get Keith and Jay to join Rose Park, so that they could turn out for their football team.

  One morning, the boys woke up to a brand-new pair of Nike Mercurials sitting outside their homes. A tantalising reminder from Rose Park’s leading man as to how much he valued them. The boys did not take the bait, but the children’s home in Hillbrow sure were grateful to have a few new boots. Headmaster McArthur always seemed to be intimidated by Harrison’s presence.

  As fitting an image as there could ever be, the Rose Park man towered above the Rosebank man. Whenever they’d meet at conferences or school events, one could catch a glimpse of McArthur shying away or doing his best to avoid direct contact with Harrison. And now the two would come face to face today, as their schools would be part of the biggest game in their sporting history.

  The excitement was tangibly brought to life as houses and flats either had white and blue ribbons for Rosebank or green and yellow for Rose Park, streaming over their walls. The normally peaceful streets of the Northern Suburbs resounded with chanting and general carousing into the early hours of the morning. It soon dawned upon Jay that this may be the only time that he’d be playing in a game of such magnitude. If he didn’t make it professionally, this would be as big as it got for him.

  Rose Park had won everything since he began his high-school career. This was his last year in Rosebank colours. It all added up to one thing and one
thing only—make today count. The advantage that Rosebank held was that it was a home game for them. If they won, they’d also have a home semi-final. The final would be held in a neutral venue—the newly built Ace Ntsoelengoe Sports Arena, just outside Soweto.

  Whilst Rosebank had worked hard to obtain the benefit of having a home run-in for the rest of the season, they would rather have avoided Rose Park at this early stage. Their rivals had taken their league games easy, and that worried Jay as it meant that they were still to hit top form. He sat in the centre circle, continuing his pre-match ritual. With his iPod stringing through the fine work of Lennon and McCartney, he floated towards his state of ultimate concentration. He did his best to tell himself that it was merely another game. That was until his maniacal partner in crime crashed down next to him.

  “My laatie, this is bigger than Mrs Knight’s chest. Massive game, bru. You think we got this?” He was not helping one bit. And Jay wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “Keith.”

  “Ja, bru?”

  “No matter what happens today, I just wanna say thanks for being there for me. Especially, when I didn’t have faith in myself.”

  “Ey, you getting emo now! Don’t stress man. I reckon all the bad things are finally behind you.” Jay placed his iPod on the grass.

  “Remember, when these clowns tried to steal us for their team?”

  “You can’t buy class.”

  Jay put his fist out and Keith pumped it with his own.

  “Amen, brother. There’s only one thing that I want to do today, bru.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Let’s show these punks, what they missed out on!”

  He pulled Jay up and they made their way to their team circle where Coach Zondi was poised, clipboard in hand. "Gentlemen! No one in this circle can complain about not being rich enough. You have a roof over your head? Check. You have three meals a day? Check. You have attended one of the finest schools in the country over the last few years? You’re damn right about that.

 

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