Isobel

I couldn't have been madder at Isobel if she'd had a thumb and forefinger down the front of my underwear all through the first half of our game, and had been tweaking and tweezing and jiggling me that whole time. At half-time we took a rest, plonked side-by-side in court chairs. She was drinking from her water-bottle, making me feel thirsty.

I was jealous for other reasons too. I wished I was as good at this game as she was.

"Isobel, please give me a chance!" I whined to her. "I'm a boy, and I shouldn't be losing to a girl this bad!"

Mid-game Isobel smelled ever so slightly of socks, or bedsheets on mornings when I woke up ashamed. A part of me limply longed for blissful hours on end doing nothing but sniffing her beautiful straw-coloured hair, even as a very different part of me longed with equal fervour to slap that big butt so many times it'd really teach her a lesson. 

Ignoring me at first, she lolled lazily to one side to stretch and put her bottle down on the table, meaning the part of her she put closest to me was the part I'd just been thinking about. Tiny pleats were pulled up to show dual bumcheeks and a glimpse of white knickers straining to handle such a load. A seconds later she flopped neatly back to sit properly and said:

"It's not about whether you're a boy, it's about how good you are."

And that was that.

As soon as she'd gone back to the court, I stood and tugged up my gym shorts and underpants in one go. If that was the way she was going to behave, then look out in the second half, Isobel!

I hurried back on. "In the first half I showed you ways to tease," Isobel was explaining smellily to the watching boys. "In this second half we'll be looking at ways to win."

We sure will, I thought to myself hotly, only this girl had the wrong idea about who was going to win against whom! She faced me, holding the ball before her in both hands. But the minute I so much as flinched to try and take it, Isobel whirled round so her back was to me, her gym-skirt flaring horizontal and putting her knickers on show again. She shot right away and even from the centre of the court scored a perfect net.

There were cheers, and just as many whistles, while heat and colour slammed into my cheeks.

"I'm the only one who can do that, but if you think you can, go ahead!" Isobel dared the boys, her fair cheeks just a tiny bit pink and her ponytail falling ever so slightly to golden wisps. As for me, I didn't even know what was stinging me more - that I was suddenly feeling so scared and daunted, or Isobel's obvious confidence I was certain to feel that way.

No sooner had we started to play again though than it struck me this was no time to stand around all ashamed that a girl had got the better of me! I broke out running after Isobel at once, wildly, clumsily, as hard as I could to get the ball, my bouncies joggling maddeningly even though I had underwear on.

I caught up with her just under the net, too late to stop her jumping up and scoring another two points. It was only while she was dropping back down again that I ran up against her, at the very moment her too-short skirt-pleats once again fanned and brought the broad white seat of her knickers right into my face.

Everything else about Isobel might have been only just starting to be tinted with something other than her typical freshness, but the back of this girl's underwear was a whole other experience of smelling. She was like my lunchbox after a long hot day if I'd had cheese crackers, mixed in with what my pillow got like if I didn't wash my hair, and the gusset of my pyjama-pants after I'd slept in them for a month. She stopped me in my tracks. I'd never in my entire virginity imagined there could be smell like that!

I was so busy gasping for breath that Isobel had caught the ball as it fell back down, before I even knew what was going on.

Dejected and defeated, I made my way sadly back to centre-court to try again. My socks were slipping down so I bent to tug them up, as if that would help. That was when I heard more whistling from courtside. For a second I wondered what Isobel was up to now, then all at once it hit me. These gym shorts were so skimpy they'd pulled up in back when I'd stooped, and I was the one showing the boys my underwear!

I shot upright at once, face burning, as Isobel walked by. Though I'd only caught a glimpse of her, I just knew she'd giggled. And that was easily as excruciating as losing to her in this game!

This time, this time, I told myself! I twitched to take the ball - another twirl from Isobel, another pleats-flare that put her white knicks back on display, and another perfect net from the middle of the court. I groaned inside. That made it six-nil now! She was only doing it to show everyone how outmatched I was. This girl who wore white socks and white knickers was really getting the better of me, I thought with a massive flush of shame!

I was so not going to cry or stomp off the court though. Not against a girl, I didn't think I could bear to do that! And as the only other thing to do was run after the ball again, that was what I did, though by now that joggling in the front of my underpants was such an annoyance I had to thrust a hand down there and grip myself to try and take off the worst of it.

Isobel overtook me without any trouble and scooped up the ball. This time she didn't get into shooting position, giving me a surge of panicky excitement that made me put on a spurt, clutching my bouncies tighter still. I flapped my free hand for the ball and just for a second I really felt like it was within reach, only for Isobel to step neatly out of the way again.

Was it possible to have a crush on a girl and still feel this furious at her? She was finding every way to tease me at this game, I thought crossly!

The giggly look that had made me squirm earlier was back on her ever so slightly pink face. For a moment I didn't understand why, but then my heart lurched as I remembered I was still clasping my gym shorts in one hand, right in front of her, like some little boy who'd got too hot and bothered to run otherwise. I yanked my hand away, as shame and embarrassment finally boiled over.

"You know, you'd be fun to play if you didn't tease!" I flung at Isobel.

All she did was poke out her tongue.

By the end of the game I'd never been so sweaty and smelly. I was crimson in the face, hot and bothered all over, and maddened beyond belief at having gone half an hour without being able to do something so straightforward as getting my hands on a netball.

I'd been defeated by a girl.

So it seemed Isobel had all the power out there on the court, just as she did in the classroom. I knew that now. Nothing, however, could have prepared me for what it felt like!

THE END