The Secrets Club

by Chris Higgins

  CHRIS HIGGINS

  PUFFIN

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Hi! My name is Dani and I’m the one who’s crazy about football.

  I’m a bit of a tomboy and sometimes people even mistake me for a boy! Lissa did on the first day of school, even though she denies it and says she was only joking.

  You’re probably wondering what someone like me is doing at Riverside Academy which is an all-girls’ school. I wonder myself sometimes!

  Actually, I won a sports scholarship here and now I love it. That’s because I get to play netball and hockey. And I’m captain of the hockey team! And Mrs Waters, our PE teacher, thinks I’m the bee’s knees! (Do bees have knees?)

  But, best of all, I’ve got three brilliant friends called Lissa, Ali and Tash. The only trouble is I don’t get to play football any more. Not at school anyway …

  www.secretsclubbooks.com

  Books by Chris Higgins

  THE SECRETS CLUB SERIES (IN READING ORDER)

  ALICE IN THE SPOTLIGHT

  THE TRUTH ABOUT TASH

  NO MATCH FOR DANI

  For all you lovely fans of the Secrets Club series

  Chapter 1

  ‘Guess what I’m doing tomorrow,’ announces Tash at Friday lunchtime as we sit down at our favourite picnic bench next to the netball courts.

  I slide in next to Lissa, saying, ‘Budge up, Fatty.’ It’s OK, she knows it’s a joke. Lissa’s thin as a rake, even though she never stops eating. She’s already scoffed her sandwiches and is now attacking a packet of crisps and eyeing my chocolate brownie enviously.

  ‘Performing brain surgery?’ she mumbles, spraying crisp crumbs all over me. ‘Oops, sorry, Dan! D’you want that cake?’

  ‘Going to the UN conference on climate control?’ asks Ali, which is what she’d like to be doing. She and her nerdy mate Austen are on a mission to save the planet. He’s at a different school from us because Riverside Academy for Girls doesn’t take boys. Obviously.

  Actually, he’s not really nerdy; he’s quite cool. Even though he doesn’t like football.

  ‘Playing in the centre for West Park Wanderers?’ I ask as I smack Lissa’s fingers away. ‘Get off my cake!’

  ‘Wrong!’ Tash’s eyes are sparkling. She’s so pretty with her big smile and her hair plaited into hundreds of tiny braids, each with a blue or yellow bead on the end – school colours. Her mum does it for her.

  ‘Meeting up with you!’ she says, beaming, and Ali shrieks and flings her arms round her. We’re all best mates, but Ali and Tash are super-extra best, if you know what I mean, so Ali was upset when she thought her bezzie didn’t want to spend time with her at weekends. It turned out that Tash was looking after her mum who’s got MS and her three little brothers and desperately trying to keep the whole family together, all on her own. Respect.

  ‘Now we’ve got support at home I can catch up with you guys for a few hours,’ she explains.

  ‘Yay! I can feel a shopping fest coming on!’ says Lissa.

  ‘You’ve got enough clothes already!’ says Ali who recycles everything.

  ‘OK then, coffee and cake,’ concedes Lissa happily. ‘You coming, Dani?’

  I hesitate.

  ‘You’ve got to come!’

  ‘I can’t. I play football on Saturdays. You know that.’

  ‘You don’t have to …’ says Lissa sulkily.

  ‘Yes I do.’

  Ali looks perplexed. ‘But I thought you just went out and kicked a ball around with some mates.’

  ‘You can do that anytime,’ Tash points out. ‘Come with us.’

  ‘It’s difficult. I don’t want to let people down.’

  ‘You’re letting us down!’ says Lissa, and everyone goes quiet. Then Ali, who likes to think things through properly, says, ‘But … I don’t get it. I mean, it’s not like you play for a team, is it?’

  They’re all staring at me. Tash’s eyes widen. ‘You don’t, do you?’

  ‘No!’

  This is the first time anyone has asked this question. I know why. Until now it’s just been Ali and Lissa meeting up together on Saturdays. Tash couldn’t and I wouldn’t. Simple. Only it’s not quite as simple as that any more. Now that Tash is available, suddenly all the focus is on me.

  ‘Of course I don’t. It’s just that …’ I hesitate. Maybe now is the time to tell them. I’ve been wanting to for ages.

  But if I do they’ll want to come and watch me. And then everything could blow up in my face. I can’t take the risk.

  ‘It’s just that you eat, sleep and breathe football and you’d rather do that than hang out with us,’ says Lissa, and because she sounds so sour about it I decide I don’t want to tell her any more.

  ‘Please, Dani,’ pleads Tash. ‘It’ll be a laugh, the four of us.’

  ‘It won’t be the same without you,’ Ali points out. ‘You’re one of the gang.’

  ‘The Gang of Four,’ wheedles Tash.

  ‘The No Secrets Club!’ says Lissa. Then she adds, ‘Unless you’ve got a secret, that is.’

  ‘Cos if you have, you can’t be in it,’ teases Tash.

  ‘That’s rich coming from you!’ I retort. ‘And you!’ I add, seeing Ali grinning.

  ‘Come with us then!’ persists Lissa. I roll my eyes and she sees it as surrender. ‘Hurray!’ she yells. ‘We’re all going to hang out together tomorrow. It’s going to be brilliant! Now don’t be late, you lot! Donatella’s Coffee Shop at eleven.’

  She is sooooo bossy.

  Chapter 2

  Saturday morning, on the train to Gran’s, and I still haven’t told my friends I’m not coming. I’ve put it off till I’m on my way because I know they’ll try to change my mind.

  Not that they’ll succeed.

  My sports bag is on the floor between my feet and I’m picking at the skin round my nails. Beside me my ten-year-old sister Jade has got her head stuck in a book as usual. She’s only eighteen months younger than me but we’re like chalk and cheese. I’m always doing something active, while Jade is permanently in a world of her own. If she’s not reading stories she’s making them up herself, scribbling them down in an exercise book which she carries with her everywhere.

  I tug at a piece of skin but it resists and starts stinging so I stop peeling strips off myself as a delaying tactic and take out my phone. Quickly I scroll thr
ough my contacts till I come to NS Club. No Secrets. That’s a joke. Who shall I ring to break the bad news? Not Tash – she’ll ask too many questions; not Lissa – she’ll go all moody on me; Ali’s the safest bet.

  ‘Hi, Dani!’ Ali sounds puffed as if she’s rushing. ‘I’m on my way! Running a bit late cos my mum made me sort out my washing and tidy my room – I mean, I don’t know what’s wrong with her – she always does this on Saturday mornings – she’s so annoying – anyway, I’ll see you in fifteen –’

  ‘I can’t come,’ I say, cutting her off mid-flow.

  ‘Why not?’ Her voice is shrill with disappointment. ‘You’re not playing football, are you?’

  I really want to say yes and tell her all about it but now’s not the time. Not in front of Jade.

  ‘I’ve got to go and see my gran.’

  ‘Daan-iiii!’

  ‘I know! There’s nothing I could do about it. My mum said I had to. I’m on the train now with my sister. I’m really sorry.’

  ‘It’s OK.’ Her tone is softer now, kinder. ‘It’s not your fault. Mums, eh?’

  ‘Say sorry to the others for me, will you? I don’t want them to think I’ve let them down.’

  ‘I will. Don’t worry, I’ll explain.’

  ‘Thanks, Ali. See you Monday.’

  I switch off my phone and sigh with relief. That wasn’t so bad after all. Beside me Jade says, without even glancing up from her book, ‘You told a lie.’

  ‘No I didn’t. We are going to see Gran.’

  ‘Not that. You said Mum said we had to.’

  I glare at her as she turns the page. How can she do that, read a book and earwig my conversation at the same time?

  ‘It’s difficult. My friends all want to meet up together but I can’t because now we go to Gran’s every Saturday.’

  ‘Yeah, but we don’t have to. Mum doesn’t make us. We’re going because we want to.’

  ‘I know that,’ I say defensively.

  ‘I like seeing Gran.’

  ‘So do I!’

  ‘So tell them then. Tell them the truth.’

  It’s annoying having a conversation with someone who’s continuing to read a book at the same time but can still make sound observations and draw logical conclusions. Especially if she’s eighteen months younger than you.

  ‘It’s not that simple.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It’s what we always do.’

  ‘Not always. We never used to. Only since you started secondary school and Mum lets us go on the train on our own.’

  ‘Exactly. It’s become a habit. Gran expects to see us now every week. She looks forward to it.’

  ‘Yeah! So do I. But Gran wouldn’t hold you to it if you had something else to do. Neither would Mum. Mum’s always telling you to get out and spend time with your new girl-mates.’

  Suddenly she looks up at me with her wide, candid eyes. ‘All I’m saying is no one is forcing you to go to see Gran. Not me, not Gran and certainly not Mum, so don’t make out we are. If you want to stay home sometimes and meet up with your friends, that’s fine. OK? What’s difficult about that?’

  I stare at her furiously then resort to my usual clincher for winning an argument with my sister. ‘You wouldn’t understand. You’re too young.’

  Chapter 3

  Gran lives alone in a bungalow on the edge of the small town of Blackett. It takes about an hour to get there. Blackett isn’t the sort of place my friends would ever go to. It doesn’t have enough of a High Street for Lissa or Tash and it’s too environmentally unfriendly for Ali. Not enough green spaces. In fact, the only green spaces I can think of are the football pitch, where the local team Blackett United play, and the park alongside it. My dad used to play on that pitch. You can catch a glimpse of it down below out of Gran’s front window.

  Gran is Dad’s mum. Dad is mad about football, like me. We used to go to watch West Park Wanderers together, just the two of us, and Jade stayed home with Mum because she was too little. It was ace. Mum used to joke that she should’ve called me Daniel instead of Danielle because Dad treated me like the son he never had.

  We don’t watch the Wanderers together any more though. Dad moved down south for work a few years ago and when he came back there was a really bad atmosphere in the house, and then last year he and Mum got divorced. Now he takes his new wife’s sons with him to watch some rubbish local team instead.

  I miss my dad.

  Gran does too. That’s one of the reasons I like going to see her. She’s got photos of us all around her sitting room and he’s in most of them, though in the most recent ones it’s just him and Jade and me. We talk about him lots in her house and it makes me feel as if he’s still here instead of miles and miles and miles away.

  At home the only photos of Dad are in Jade’s bedroom and mine. Mum doesn’t mention Dad much, so neither do we in case it upsets her.

  True to form Gran opens the door and announces, ‘You just missed him on the phone. He says he’ll call you later.’

  Gran is small like me and her hair is cropped short like mine too (though hers is iron-grey and mine’s a sort of sandy colour) but that’s where the resemblance ends. We have very different clothes sense. She favours long flowing skirts and layers of floaty tops and beads and rings and bangles, whereas I’m more of a jeans or tracky-pants kind of girl. We are similar in other ways though. Both of us are always on the go.

  Gran used to be a teacher but she’s retired now. From teaching that is, not from everything else. She’s always swimming or playing tennis or badminton or golf, plus she belongs to a book group, she works in a charity shop and she’s a school governor too. I get my sportiness from her. That’s how I ended up at Riverside Academy for Girls.

  When Gran first suggested I try out for Riverside I said, ‘No way! I don’t want to go to an all-girls’ school!’ But then we looked it up online and discovered it had a fantastic reputation for sport, so I agreed to sit the entrance test. Then, lo and behold, I ended up being offered the free sports scholarship and Mum and Gran persuaded me it would be a good idea to take it.

  I’m glad I did. I thought it would be full of snobby posh girls who were really up themselves but it’s not. Well, Lissa’s posh, her family’s really well off and her house looks like something out of a magazine, according to Ali who’s been there for tea, but she’s not a snob. She’s mad about sport too and she’s really good at hockey, though not as good as me. (It’s the truth, I’m not boasting!) Everyone voted for me to be hockey captain, not her. It didn’t stop us becoming good friends though, and we sit next to each other in class.

  Tash and Ali sit in front of us. They’re not posh at all. Tash lives in one of the tower blocks on the Borne Hill Estate and she won a scholarship too, an academic one cos she’s dead brainy, though you wouldn’t think it when you first meet her. She’s into fashion mags and the celeb world. Ali lives in an ordinary house like ours, even though her sister really is a celebrity, and she’s passionate about the environment. Neither Tash nor Ali is the slightest bit up themselves, though they’ve got loads to be big-headed about.

  Actually, there are some real airheads at Riverside Academy, if I’m honest. Three spring to mind immediately, called Georgia, Zadie and Chantelle. They are totally obsessed with their appearance so I gave them a nickname straight away and the name stuck. Now everyone knows them as the Barbies and they’re so stupid they think it’s a compliment. They spread a rumour round, about Tash’s mum being an alcoholi
c, because they saw her stumbling about in town. But now she’s been diagnosed with MS, they’re the ones who look pathetic.

  I don’t miss my old friends much. You see, they were mainly boys and I still kick a football around in the street with most of them because they live nearby. But the thing I really miss about my new secondary school is playing footie in a proper team. At my primary school I was the captain of the football team. But Riverside Academy for Girls doesn’t play football.

  ‘What’s for lunch?’ asks Jade, sniffing appreciatively. Gran always cooks us something nice to eat, another good reason for going to see her every week.

  ‘Thai green curry, a new recipe. It’s ready when you are.’

  My mouth is watering. But I say, ‘Mind if I have mine a bit later, Gran?’

  She laughs. ‘Go on then!’ she says. ‘It can wait. You’re just like your father was, always itching to be outside in the fresh air. Go and run some of that energy off in the park and don’t come back till you’ve built up an appetite.’ Gran turns to Jade. ‘I picked up a couple of books for you this week that someone brought into the shop. Do you want them now or after lunch?’

  ‘Now!’ says Jade, her eyes shining, and they disappear into the house together in search of magic and mystery. How can two sisters be so different?

  ‘See you later!’ I shout, hitching my bag back on to my shoulder, and set off down the hill. At the bottom there’s a public loo and I nip inside. I take a hoody from my bag and pull it on over my T-shirt and tracksuit bottoms, staring at myself thoughtfully in the mirror.

  I look like a boy.

  ‘Hi,’ I say to my reflection in my normal voice. I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, tuck my chin in and try again.

  ‘Hiya!’ My voice is deeper now and carries more. I cough and clear my throat and drop another octave.

  ‘All right?’ I say to the mirror and now my voice is husky, almost gravelly.