Scoring

I made a face at him and got ready, although I was still scared. Suddenly though I was also determined not to let down the boys from Netball Beginners, and our friends in the audience who were wanly watching!

The boy with freckles caught the ball as soon as it bounced near us, then was so quick making off with it that I ended up face-to-butt with him, irritatingly. I felt the colour began to mount to my cheeks. His gym shorts were so small you could see his tight black underwear beneath. When it struck me how much nicer than mine his were, and how much I longed to have ones that matched the rest of my sports kit like his did, I began to fume. No wonder he could tease me about the kind of underwear I had on! When was I going to catch up?

Trying not to let the embarrassment get the better of me I did my best to take after him. Some hope! The little purple "Foxes" from his school were being exceedingly cheery by now, rapping out one of their cheesy chants in chorus, and it was maddening. No doubt they'd be very cheery indeed for boys who were good at this game, like I needed anything else to be jealous about.

Suddenly I caught up the ball! There I stood, breathless, hardly able to believe it, and almost distracted with fright. Knowing someone was sure was to try and take it back any second was enough to twist my nerves unbearably. On wobbly feet and trembling pale thighs I bolted with the ball, not even daring to look at the opposition. All I could do was try and pass to one of my team, which was something I'd not often got right before.

That same boy with the freckles, yet again, intercepted easily and scored. He left me fuming at how badly it had gone. I just couldn't do this!

The next time I saw the freckled boy from the visiting school, it was after the game. The cheerleaders had had their photo and already got changed, but we boys were waiting around still in our netball kit for ours. First a shot of the home team, and then after us, the winners. I sighed.

That was when my eyes fell on that boy who'd first teased me then marked me so successfully. He looked really sweet, slightly pink-cheeked, and with his underwear showing again beneath his shorts. A girl was with him, and I recognised her as one of the cheers from his school even though she was now out of her gaudy purple uniform. They seemed to be chatting so innocently, but her glossy lips were saucy too.

She was exactly the sort of girl I dreamed about, hair the colour of golden syrup and little tight shorts that truly were no bigger than a pair of knickers. I guessed she was in the year below me, or in other words the year above him, which meant she was older than he was. How was that even possible, I railed to myself helplessly? That was like me getting with a sixth form girl, which I'd have so loved to happen but I knew it was never going to. How was it fair, just because he was good at gym and I'm wasn't?

That perfect girl didn't even know who I was, so I wasn't any too thrilled that this disastrous game against her little boyfriend's team had been our introduction, and the only thing she was likely to remember me for.

While I watched, she and the freckled one commenced an excessive celebratory kiss and I had to look away. When I thought of how that must feel and taste, I blinked back tears. Next second though I was too startled to cry, because all at once my favourite girl in the stripy blazer was beside me!

"I told you it was too soon to compete against a team as good as theirs," she informed me, but her eyes were twinkling behind her plastic-framed glasses. "You'd better meet me here tomorrow after class. I can see you need a lot of practice."

I gaped at her, all my hopelessness and defeat suddenly transformed to joy.

"It can be our first date," she smiled. "We'll start with one-on-one."

THE END