Offside

by Lynne Roberts

  Chapter Three

  There was silence on the other end of the phone.

  “Are you there Melanie?” asked Maggie.

  “Roller blading,” exploded Melanie. “Have you actually got any rollerblades Maggie?”

  “There’s an old pair of my brother’s lying around somewhere,” said Maggie cheerfully. “We could take turns. Or hang on, I’ve got a better idea. Let’s go to the roller rink. They hire out skates and things there.”

  “Well I guess so.” Melanie sounded doubtful.

  “Oh come on, it’ll be fun. What say we go tomorrow afternoon? I’ll give Lisa a ring and see if she wants to come too.”

  “All right,” agreed Melanie, “but I hope I don’t regret it.”

  Lisa had homework to catch up on, so it was only Maggie and Melanie who went to the roller rink behind the shopping centre. Sunday afternoons were loosely organised with a few games and races along with free time for skating. Large speakers attached to the clubhouse boomed out music and as well as the usual teenagers, tiny children tottered around with the support of their parents.

  “Where are the skates?” asked Melanie.

  Maggie looked embarrassed.

  “They were far too big for either of us. Nick must have the largest feet in the universe. And the smelliest. Anyway, they hire skates here so we can get ones that fit properly. I brought enough money for us both.”

  “Okay, I used to skate quite a bit when I was little so I hope I’m not too rusty. How about you?”

  “Um, I’m sure it will be easy,” said Maggie.

  She pictured herself gliding across a spot-lit rink, dressed in a turquoise leotard draped with flowing silky petals. Soft music throbbed and built to a crescendo as Maggie spun in a tight circle before launching into a series of jumps – tuck, pike and split. With each leap the audience applauded, rising to their feet for a standing ovation as the music died away and Maggie bowed to them. A hail of roses fell around her as she kissed her fingertips to the crowd...

  “Maggie! I’ve asked you twice, what shall we get, roller blades or skates?”

  “Let’s try blades,” said Maggie. The girls paid their money at the clubhouse window and told a bored young man their shoe size. He handed over two pair of rollerblades and Maggie led the way to a wooden bench beside the rink. There the girls laced up their boots and wobbled uncertainly to the rink, clutching at the railing.

  “Ooh, these are a bit different from skates,” said Melanie. “You have to balance on the middle bit.”

  “Mm,” replied Maggie.

  “Look, I can still do it,” said Melanie happily “Come on Maggie give it a go.” She pushed off into the stream of people skating around the rink.

  Maggie tried to move. Her ankles wobbled and felt strange. Her feet tipped first to one side then the other – both at different times.

  “This can’t be hard,” she thought. “Some of those kids skating are only kindergarten age. If they can do it then I must be able to.”

  Taking a deep breath she pushed off from the rail with both hands. Maggie concentrated on holding her body steady as she glided across the smooth surface of the rink.

  “Hey, this is fun,” she thought. “Oh dear.” Her feet began to slide apart. Further and further they stretched until she was nearly doing the splits. With a despairing wail Maggie sat down hard on the cold concrete.

  “Ouch,” she said in surprise. She tried to stand up but her feet slid around as the skate wheels spun merrily beneath her. Finally she reverted to hands and knees and crawled to the edge of the rink where she staggered thankfully to the handrail.

  “I’ll try holding on for a while,” she thought.

  Maggie pulled herself around the rink, with feet and ankles wobbling as she went. Eventually she felt brave enough to try skating on her own again. She took a tentative step away from the rail and immediately collided with a small boy who was skating past backwards.

  “Watch where you’re going,” he called derisively, as he leaped to his feet and skated off.

  “Ow.” Maggie moaned as she inspected her skinned knees. She made her way over to a seat beside the rink where she took off the roller blades with a relieved sigh.

  “Maggie what are you doing? This is fantastic fun. Come on, put your blades on again and I’ll help you skate.”

  “Um, no thanks,” said Maggie hastily. “But you go ahead, Melanie. I’m really enjoying watching everybody,” she lied.

  “Ok, if you’re sure you don’t mind,” grinned Melanie. “Sandra and Annie are here too and we’re going to enter the speed race. Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

  “I’m fine thanks,” said Maggie trying to sound cheerful. “I’ll cheer you on.” She bit her lip as she felt her bruised backside complaining about the hard seat.

  Melanie joined the group of young teenagers lining up for the speed race. The organiser cleared the rink and explained the rules. It was very simple. Eight circuits in an anticlockwise direction with the first person to finish winning a box of chocolates and an entry ticket into the rink for six months. Maggie watched as the organiser blew his whistle to signal the start, then ran into the middle of the rink to keep an eye on the competitors. Round the corner the skaters came in a tight bunch. Maggie cheered as they shot past her and round the other side. She could see Melanie bent almost double, hands clasped behind her back, looking very professional. Round they flashed again and Maggie concentrated on the red sweatshirt Melanie was wearing. The man in the control box began a commentary.

  “Blondie’s in front now,” he called as a large fair-haired boy zipped into the lead. Behind him a bunch of five other skaters followed closely while the rest of the pack began to spread out. Around for the fifth time. Melanie was in the first five now as they sped along. Maggie could see that those on the inside had an advantage as they didn‘t have so far to go, but to overtake they had to go to the outside. One of the leading bunch cut in too far and crossed the painted line on the rink.

  “You in the blue T-shirt, you’re eliminated,” called the commentator, at a signal from the organiser, Annie scowled and skidded to a stop in the centre.

  “Come on Melanie,” yelled Maggie as they came around. The sixth circuit now and Melanie was third. As they entered the seventh circuit she passed the boy in front of her to get into second place. Some of the slower skaters had pulled into the centre and stopped. By now all the crowd was cheering.

  “Come on Red, come on Red,” they encouraged Melanie.

  “Go for it Zach,” they called as the large fair-haired lad glanced back over his shoulder.

  Maggie jumped up and down screaming. She forgot her bruises and sore knees in the excitement.

  “Come on Melanie,” she cried. It was the eighth circuit and the final straight. Melanie put on a spurt of speed and came alongside Zach. As they flashed past the finish line, they were so close Maggie couldn’t tell who had won. There was a round of applause as Melanie and Zach panted to a stop and leaned on the railings grinning. The organiser conferred with the man in the control room then announced the winner.

  “That was a real photo finish,” he said. “We’ve decided to call it a dead heat. Two equal winners. Zach and Melanie will each get a free six month pass – but they’ll have to share the chocolates.” He presented a laughing Melanie with the box saying “Ladies first.”

  “You can have them all,” said Zach happily. “Man what a race. You’re good. Have you raced often?”

  “Actually it’s my first time on blades,” confessed Melanie. “But it felt fantastic.”

  “You’re seriously good,” said Zach in admiration. “Why don’t you come along on Tuesday after school? We have speed training sessions then.”

  “Oh wow! I’d love to. I’ll have to talk my parents into getting me my own blades,” said Melanie joyfully. “I’m sure they won’t mind giving me an early birthday present. I’ve got to tell Maggie.”

  Melanie chattered excitedly all the way home
about roller blading and Zach. After the fifteenth ‘Zach says,’ Maggie sighed.

  “Well, I think it’s great that you’re going to do roller blading and Lisa is really enjoying her cricket, but I haven’t found a sport yet that suits me.”

  “I’m sure something will turn up,” said Melanie sympathetically. “You have so many good ideas.”

  Maggie went running on her own for the next few nights. Melanie waved at her as she ran past. She was practising roller blading up and down her driveway, after having nagged her parents to buy her blades of her own. Lisa was hanging around with a group of kids, boys and girls from the neighbourhood, who practised cricket in every available moment.

  “I’m getting pretty good at this running,” thought Maggie “I wonder if that's a possibility.”

  “Dad,” she asked at breakfast the next day, “what’s a sport that involves a lot of running?”

  Her father looked surprised.

  “Well, most sports use running, I suppose,” he said thoughtfully. “There’s running in hockey, soccer, rugby and cricket. You have to be quick on your feet for tennis or badminton and squash of course. Why?”

  “Oh, no reason,” said Maggie casually.

  “If you want to run,” said Nick, “why don’t you enter the cross country? It’s on next week.”

  “I thought it was only for Seniors,” said Maggie.

  “Nope,” replied her brother. “Anyone can enter. Daniel and I are going into it. We get the whole afternoon off school, so it’s worth it. But you probably wouldn’t even make it to the first checkpoint.”

  “I would so,” cried Maggie indignantly.

  “Yeah, on a stretcher,” retorted Nick.

  “Settle down you two,” said their father. “There’s no reason Maggie shouldn’t enter if she wants to, but it’s a very long way,” he warned.

  “No problem,” said Maggie airily. “I’m probably fitter than Nick. All he does is stuff his face.” Nick kicked her under the table.

  “Well Miss Smarty-pants, as it so happens Daniel and I are training in the school gym every afternoon.”

  “Well I’m running every night so that has to be worth something,” said Maggie furiously.

  When she arrived at school, she stormed to the gym and confidently entered her name on the list for the cross-country.

  “I’ll show them,” she thought. “They’ll be sorry they laughed at me when I win.”

  ‘And here’s Maggie, coming up to the winning post now. And she’s across - no, wait. She’s stopping and going back. Ah, look. She’s helping her older brother by giving him her arm to lean on. What sportsmanship! What a girl! Not only a brilliant athlete, but compassionate as well. Look! Now she’s carrying him on her shoulders. Here she comes up to the winning post. Oh what a wonderful display of selflessness. She is putting her brother down so he can cross the finish line beside her.

  Tell me Maggie, how does it feel to be the winner?’

  Maggie smiled modestly.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘it was nothing, really.’

  ‘Listen to the crowd calling and cheering. Maggie! Maggie!’

  “Maggie!”

  “What?” Maggie blinked as Lisa shook her shoulder.

  “What are you doing? You’ve entered the cross-country race. That’s for Seniors.”

  “No, it’s not,” said Maggie indignantly. “Anyone can enter.”

  “Yes, anyone can, but only idiots would,” said Lisa incredulously. “Do you realise how far it is?”

  “It’s okay, I’m in training. I’m very fit.” Maggie smiled at her. Lisa shook her head in amazement and gave her a pitying look as they went off to their Maths class.

  Maggie decided to increase her training. She ran around the rugby field as usual then jogged down the end of the street and back before collapsing on her bed.

  “It’s normal to feel puffed after a run,” she told herself. “I’m very fit. Nick is going to be surprised when I win. I can hardly wait.”

  Thursday afternoon came around quickly. Maggie felt her heart sink as she lined up at the starting point on the back field of the school. All the other runners were seniors. They wore proper running shoes and carried water bottles in pouches at their waists. The PE teacher looked at Maggie doubtfully.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked her.

  “Yes,” replied Maggie firmly. “I’m not the only girl,” she thought. There were at least three others. All of them looked strong and fit with long tanned legs. Maggie looked at her own shorts and T-shirt with the large number three pinned to the back.

  “You must pass each checkpoint,” Mr Smith called out. “A teacher will tick your number off as you go. The first one back will win, but only if they have gone past all the points in the correct order. Good luck. Go!”

  He fired a starting pistol. Maggie jumped at the noise, then ran along after the group of runners. By the time they had reached the corner of the field she was out of breath.

  “They’re running fast to show off,” she thought. “They’ll slow down as soon as we’re out of sight of the school.” No such luck. Feet pounded and cheery comments rang out as the pack surged ahead. Maggie plodded along behind. Her daily runs now seemed very insignificant compared with this.

  “I’m going to finish,” she said determinedly, “even if I can’t win. Perhaps they’ll slow down later on, or stop for a rest like the story of the hare and the tortoise. Then I will run past laughing.” She didn’t feel much like laughing at the moment. She could feel a blister starting on her heel and her face felt bright red with heat. Maggie approached the first checkpoint. She could see the other runners far ahead of her and the teacher at the checkpoint was packing up his folding seat and clipboard.

  “Number 3. Well done Maggie, keep it up,” he encouraged her. Maggie smiled weakly and put on a spurt of speed. She could not see any of the other runners now but knew that they had to cross a neighbouring farm. Doubtfully she paused at the gate. Right or left, which way should she go?

  “If I was an Indian or an Aborigine, I could follow the footprints,” she thought, but the ground was hard and dry and there were no signs that thirty-seven runners had been in either direction.

  “I’ll go left,” decided Maggie, and set off down the track. It was cool and peaceful here, as the track led through a stand of trees and down a small gully to a pebbly stream. Maggie stopped at the steam and splashed cold water on her hot face. She thought about having a drink but decided the water was probably not clean enough. She ran through the water and up the gully on the other side. Her sneakers went ‘squelch’ as she hit the ground and felt wet and heavy on her feet. Maggie followed the track at a slow jog and went through another gate, carefully shutting it behind her. Before she had gone more than a few steps, a loud bellow sounded behind her. Jumping in fright she spun around to see a large horned cow walking towards her.

  “Help,” gulped Maggie. “I hope it’s friendly. Nice cow, good cow,” she said soothingly as she moved hastily away. The cow came closer and started to run behind her. “What if it’s a bull?” thought Maggie in panic. She sprinted across the field, hearing the ‘splat’ ‘squelch’ of her sneakers and the thunder of hooves hitting the ground hard on her heels. Reaching the fence on the far side of the paddock, Maggie dived through the wires and landed in a large cowpat on the other side.

  “Urk,” she said in disgust, picking up handfuls of grass that she used to wipe herself down. The beast, Maggie still wasn’t sure if it was a bull, stopped at the fence and tossed its head at her, snorting through large nostrils. Maggie climbed to her feet and dismally kept walking. She was all run out now. Her legs felt like two wobbly sticks of jelly with wet lumps of lead for feet. Her T-shirt was sticking to her body with sweat and she smelt strongly of cow muck.

  “I’m not enjoying this,” Maggie admitted to herself. “But I’m still going to finish the race.” Slowly she plodded along. She left the farm and dragged her tired body along the street le
ading to the school. There was no sign of any other runners. All she saw was a passing motorist who stared at her and a small boy playing on a tricycle in his front yard.

  “You’re all dirty,” he informed her as she walked tiredly past. “My mummy makes me have a bath when I get dirty. Are you going to have a bath?”

  “I expect so,” croaked Maggie. Her mouth was dry and her tongue felt swollen to twice its normal size. She wished she’d brought a water bottle like the other runners.

  “I won’t give up, I won’t give up,” she muttered and kept walking. As she turned in past the school gate she passed crowds of students going home.

  “School must have finished,” she thought in dismay. “I’d better go and get ticked off at the end.” Maggie made her way to the back field and looked for Mr Smith the PE teacher. He was nowhere to be seen, but Lisa and Melanie came running up.

  “What happened to you, Maggie? You’re all filthy,” cried Lisa. “You smell terrible.”

  “The race finished ages ago,” said Melanie. “They thought you must have gone home because you missed the last three checkpoints.”

  “I got lost,” said Maggie simply. “Then there was a bull, at least, I think it was a bull. But I finished the race,” she said proudly.

  “Yes, well, you actually didn’t even do most of it,” Lisa pointed out. “But you’re back now, so let’s go home.”

  “Good idea,” said Maggie thankfully. “Cross country running is definitely not my sport.”

  She thought for a few minutes “I’ve got a brilliant idea,” she said triumphantly. “I think I’ll learn table tennis.”