The Secrets Club

by Chris Higgins

‘What d’you mean?’ I asked, my smile fading.

  ‘Lads who are first-class players,’ he said simply. ‘Like you.’

  Oh no! The penny dropped. He thought I was a boy. I looked around at all the faces waiting eagerly for my decision. They all did! They all thought I was a boy!

  Why was I so surprised? Everyone thinks I’m a boy when I first meet them. Even Lissa said, ‘I didn’t know boys were allowed in this school,’ when we started at Riverside. I look like one, let’s face it, with my short spiky hair and freckles and my stocky build. I don’t mind, it doesn’t bother me!

  I wish I had been a boy. They have loads more fun.

  But now I had the opportunity to have some fun too. To play the game I loved every week to a respectable standard with a bunch of guys who were passionate about it. It was my dream come true.

  Now was the time to come clean and fess up that actually I was a girl and see if they still wanted me.

  But I hesitated. What if they didn’t? This was the best chance I’d ever had to play football at a decent level. I couldn’t take the risk of losing it.

  ‘OK then!’ I said and a cheer went up as they all piled on top of me.

  What have I done? Now I’m committed to playing every single week with these guys and very soon we’re going to have our first actual match against another side. I can’t leave them in the lurch now, it’s too late for that.

  I don’t want to anyway, I’m loving it.

  I’m in this to the end.

  Chapter 8

  Football is my raison d’être (my ‘reason for being’ – we do French at Riverside, Madame Dupré would be proud of me) but until I started playing with the Blackett boys it was actually, to my huge regret, starting to disappear from my life. It was different when Dad was home. We used to eat, drink and sleep it then. Nearly every day when he came home from work we’d kick a ball around together. He taught me everything I know about the game. We’d watch it every opportunity we had on TV and he was forever reading me match reports out of the newspaper. Best of all, like I said before, we used to follow the Wanderers together.

  I can’t go and watch them any more because there’s no one to take me and Mum won’t let me go on my own.

  It’s not fair. Parents should think about these things before they split up.

  Now school takes precedence over everything else. Mum was so proud when I won a scholarship to Riverside Academy, she went round telling everyone who would listen. I felt sorry for her poor patients because you could bet your life while she was dressing their wounds and sticking needles into them she was going on and on about my scholarship. I didn’t even want to go to Riverside but there was no way she or Gran were ever going to let me turn it down.

  I have to say though, she was right; it is a really good school, even if it doesn’t take boys. I’m glad I came. Most of the time. I like playing hockey and netball (though not so much as football) and being captain of the hockey team and I’m glad that my PE teacher has spotted my potential. I like most of my subjects, in fact, and nearly all of my teachers.

  But what I like best is being friends with Lissa, Ali and Tash.

  I’d never had a close friend before. I just muddled along with everyone at primary school, spending most of my time in the playground with the boys. But now I’ve got not one, not two, but THREE best mates and, actually, that makes me feel special. We got to know each other soooooo quickly. I like them all equally but in different ways.

  Girls are different from boys. They talk more together and do less. Girls like to tell their friends everything about themselves. We all promised we wouldn’t keep anything from each other. Then we found out that both Ali and Tash had secrets.

  Now it’s my turn.

  The good thing is none of us bears grudges. Nobody blamed Ali for not telling us about her sister and we could all see why Tash kept her home life hidden. Now I’m hoping Lissa won’t still be cross with me for snapping at her yesterday. I know I was out of order and I can’t help worrying that it will be a bit awkward between us still.

  But when I go into my form room this morning and see my friends already there perched on the desks chatting, Lissa grins at me straight away, budging up so I can sit next to her.

  ‘Wanna sweet?’ she asks indistinctly, popping another one in her mouth as she holds out a paper bag to me. She’s always eating, mostly rubbish, even though her mum’s a health freak apparently.

  I shake my head and say, ‘Sorry I had a go at you yesterday, Liss.’

  She looks blank for a second like she’s forgotten all about it and then puts her arm round my shoulders and gives me a hug.

  ‘That’s all right, babe, we all have our off days. I do definitely.’

  Ali raises her eyebrows. ‘You can say that again.’

  ‘I do definitely,’ repeats Lissa and we all giggle.

  ‘We’ve got geography first,’ remarks Tash and now we all groan, even Ali. Geography should be Ali’s favourite lesson because she’s into the environment in a big way but geography means Mr Little. I’m not kidding, that’s really his name. What makes it even funnier is he’s not little, he’s extremely tall and thin with long bony wrists that poke out of the sleeves of his cord jacket, the same grubby jacket he wears every single day of his life. It’s like somebody’s told him that’s the uniform geography teachers have to wear.

  I don’t mind that, I mean you don’t expect teachers to be supermodels. He’s younger and better looking than Grumpy Griffiths, our maths teacher, who’s got grey beetley eyebrows and a warty nose. (Actually, the whole world is better looking than Grumpy Griffiths.) The difference is that Grumpy Griffiths, despite his name and his appearance, is a good teacher, while Mr Little is rubbish.

  He doesn’t know enough about his subject: he’s not a geography specialist, he admitted that to us straight away which was probably a mistake. He was brought in on supply after half term when Mrs Jones went off on maternity leave. They should’ve asked Ali to teach us instead, she knows much more than he does. Or Lissa. She could control us better.

  Mr Little just goes through the textbook every lesson and it’s dead boring. Because it’s boring, people start playing up and it always dissolves into chaos. You’d think it would be fun for the class if a teacher can’t keep control but it’s not, you get fed up with it after a while. The Barbies run rings around him. Today is no different.

  ‘Open your books at Population,’ says Mr Little and immediately people start clamouring.

  ‘Where’s my book?’

  ‘Haven’t got one, Sir!’

  ‘What page?’

  ‘What did he say?’

  Mr Little clears his throat and tries again. ‘Page forty-five. Now pay attention everyone. Chantelle, share your book with Georgia. Chantelle! I said share … Hmm. Now then. Danielle? Can you read please?’

  I hate being called Danielle.

  ‘The population of the British Isles rose significantly after the Industrial Revolution,’ I begin.

  Zadie (in a whisper just loud enough for everyone to hear): ‘That’s because they were all at it like rabbits.’ We start giggling and Mr Little’s face turns pink.

  Georgia: ‘I reckon England should have a one-child policy.’

  Ali (considering the concept, which she finds genuinely interesting): ‘Like China, you mean?’

  Zadie: ‘What about Scotland? If England has one, Scotland should too.’

  Chantelle: ‘And Wales.’

  Georgia: ‘Mrs Jones was from
Wales. Has Wales got a one-child policy, Sir?’

  Mr Little: ‘Um, no. No, it doesn’t.’

  Georgia (with a sly grin): ‘Didn’t think so.’ Zadie and Chantelle giggle but no one else does. Most of us were big fans of Mrs Jones, our last geography teacher, who’d gone off to have her third baby.

  ‘You’re not clever, Georgia,’ says Lissa, sounding bored.

  Georgia (looking annoyed, but refusing to let it go): ‘Sir, d’you think we should have a one-child policy?’

  Mr Little (thinking he’s finally caught her interest at last): ‘Well, yes, it’s certainly an interesting question, Georgia. If you consider that the population has doubled since –’

  Georgia: ‘So are you telling us we should use birth control, Sir?’

  Mr Little (realizing too late it’s a trap, and flushing fiery red): ‘Um, I’m not sure we should be discussing this …’

  ‘You’re not being funny, Georgia, you’re just being rude!’ says Lissa loudly and sternly. Georgia turns round with a wounded look on her face.

  ‘No, I’m not, I’m just asking questions,’ she says pretending to be hurt. ‘If I was being rude I would be saying things like, Sir, your lessons are boring or Sir, your coat sleeves are too short. Or Sir …’

  ‘Georgia, shut up!’ says Lissa, her voice full of command, and Georgia does as she’s told.

  You don’t want to mess with Lissa. I’m glad she’s my friend, not my enemy. I carry on reading aloud to the now silent class. The door opens and the headmistress pokes her head round.

  ‘Everything all right, Mr Little?’ she asks and he nods nervously.

  ‘Everything’s fine, thank you, Mrs Shepherd.’

  But I can’t help noticing how he darts a grateful glance towards Lissa as the head closes the door.

  Chapter 9

  This Saturday it turns out that Tash is doing something with her family and only Lissa and Ali have plans to meet up. Maybe because of this there seems to be less pressure on me to join them.

  ‘You going to see your gran again this weekend, Dani?’ asks Lissa and I nod.

  ‘Yep, we’re all going. Mum too.’

  ‘I think it’s lovely the way you visit your grandmother every week,’ says Ali. ‘I watched a programme on the telly last night and it was all about how lonely old people are nowadays. It’s because they’re stuck inside all day with nothing to do and nobody ever goes to see them.’

  I think of my jet-propelled gran whizzing around between home and gym and school, and theatre and tennis club and golf course, and lunching and swimming and shopping, and wonder if she actually minds us turning up each week to disturb her busy life. I’m such a fake. People think I’m being kind and unselfish when actually I’m not. I’m even fooling my own mother. Last night she asked Jade and me what our plans were for Saturday.

  Jade looked at me and I said, ‘Gran’s?’ and she nodded happily. Easy-peasy.

  ‘You don’t have to,’ said Mum. ‘I’m not working this weekend. We could do something else if you want.’

  ‘Can we go swimming?’ Jade asked eagerly.

  ‘If you want to,’ Mum said. ‘Do you want to come, Dani? Or maybe you’d like to meet up with your friends instead?’

  I stared at them both in alarm. No way! This Saturday would be our last but one chance to train together. In two weeks’ time we were going to play our first match as Blackett Juniors.

  ‘Jade! Gran will be expecting us. We don’t want to disappoint her.’

  Jade looked a bit shamefaced but Mum smiled at me. ‘That’s really sweet of you, Dani,’ she said. ‘Maybe I should come too.’

  It was my turn to feel ashamed. Then immediately I started worrying that if Mum came with us to see Gran she might find out what I’m really up to.

  Now Ali’s making me feel bad as well. I’m a fraud. Everyone thinks I’m being really kind to my poor old granny, going all that way to visit her each week. Whereas I know my motives are not quite so pure. I love my gran but the simple reason I make that trip to Blackett each Saturday without fail is so that I can play with Ryan and the others. It’s the best opportunity I’ve ever had to play class football and I’m not going to blow it.

  Gran, though she doesn’t know it, is my alibi.

  Lissa’s eyes flick towards my leg. The bruise has all but disappeared now, just a faint blue and yellow shadow left to remind me where Marvyn’s size eights collided with my shin last week. It strikes me that Lissa is the only person who’s not completely taken in by my Little Red Riding Hood act. Maybe it’s because, like me, she doesn’t believe in fairy tales.

  ‘Actually,’ I concede, seeing the lack of conviction in her eyes, ‘I’m hoping to have a knock-about while I’m there.’

  ‘I knew it!’ she says triumphantly. ‘I knew you’d played football last Saturday.’

  ‘Yeah, I did. But that’s not the reason I couldn’t meet up with you,’ I add quickly. ‘Only sometimes, when I’m at my gran’s, it gets a bit boring so I wander down the park and see if there’s anyone I can have a quick game with.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say that before?’

  ‘Because you made out I was lying and I was mad at you!’ I say aloud.

  Because you made out I was lying and I was, I say inside my head.

  ‘Sorry!’ She manages to look contrite for one second flat, then grins. ‘Come on then, tell us! Who kicked you in the shin?’

  ‘A guy called Marvyn. He’s only my age but he wears size eights.’

  ‘I know a boy called Marvyn,’ says Tash thoughtfully. ‘He’s brilliant at football. I wonder if it’s the same guy?’

  My heart plummets.

  ‘What’s his surname?’

  I shrug. ‘Dunno. I don’t know him that well.’

  ‘Find out if it’s Marvyn Bailey. I bet it’s him.’

  ‘Bailey!’ Lissa’s eyes light up. ‘That’s Ajay’s surname.’

  We all groan. Lissa was mad about Ajay, a boy who lives on Tash’s estate, till she found out he was only interested in Tash. She still fancies him though, it’s obvious.

  Lissa is really getting into boys, not like the rest of us. Well, I’m into boys but only because I wish I was a boy. And, as far as I know, Ajay and Tash are just good friends, like Ali and her mate, Austen.

  ‘He’s Ajay’s cousin,’ explains Tash.

  ‘Ooh! Maybe we should come and watch you play, Dan,’ says Lissa. ‘If this Marvyn is anything like Ajay –’

  ‘He isn’t,’ I say shortly, nipping this idea in the bud. ‘You don’t even know if he is Ajay’s cousin.’

  ‘Find out for me, will you?’ she asks, going all girly and giggly.

  Aargh! She can be sooooo annoying.

  Ever wish you’d kept your mouth shut?

  Chapter 10

  When Gran opens her front door and sees Mum her face breaks into a huge smile.

  ‘Pam, darling!’ she says and envelops her in a massive hug.

  Mum and Gran don’t see too much of each other nowadays.

  By the time Dad officially left us, Jade and I were sort of used to him not being around any more and I didn’t really appreciate that he was never going to come back and live with us again. Mum kind of protected us from all that.

  She got a new job at the surgery and threw herself into full-time work, enrolling my sister and me in breakfast and after-school clubs. We just got on with it. When Mum and Dad got divorced we hardly noticed. But then this summer holidays, j
ust before I started at Riverside Academy, he quietly got married again. He didn’t even invite Jade or me to the wedding. I think Mum was cross about that because I heard her having a go at him. He said it was better that way, he didn’t want to upset us.

  He did though.

  Now we don’t see much of him and increasingly we don’t really talk much about him either. It doesn’t mean I miss him any the less though. Sometimes I just wish I could have a really good conversation about the break-up and divorce with Mum or Dad and why it happened and clear the air once and for all.

  The trouble is when Dad does come back to see us he’s desperate to know that Jade and I are happy. It’s so obvious he feels guilty about leaving us; I can’t add to it by bringing up the whys and wherefores of what he did. And it’s sort of the same with Mum. I constantly feel that I need to reassure them both that, OK, they’re divorced and we hardly see my dad and he’s married again and he’s got two stepsons who I’ve never met, but so what? That’s nothing out of the ordinary nowadays and I’m fine with it.

  Only, the truth is, I’m not. I want my dad back.

  Anyway, like I said, Mum doesn’t see much of Gran any more. Which is good for me in one way because it means the two of them aren’t constantly checking up on me. But it’s bad too, because it’s pretty obvious they really like each other.

  Today they are yacking away together like nobody’s business over cups of filter coffee, catching up on all the news. I hang about for a bit wondering when it will be safe for me to slip away. But just as I’m sidling out of the door Mum, who has eyes in the back of her head, says, ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

  ‘Thought I’d just pop out for a bit.’

  Mum stares at me. ‘Where to?’

  ‘Just out. The park. Wherever.’

  She checks her watch. ‘Before lunch?’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’

  ‘She gets bored hanging round here all day with nothing to do, don’t you, Dani, love?’ says Gran.