Head of the River (20 page)

I dip my head and can't look her in the eye. Did she hear Sam and I last night?

‘Different how?'

‘You're happy or something. Like that stick up your butt has been removed.' She looks at me, cheekily, and we burst out laughing.

‘Oh my goodness, you actually do have a sense of humour!'

I flick her with my water bottle and she sticks out her tongue.

Cristian

I drag myself through the final session of camp in a daze. I desperately wanted to stay in bed after another restless night. Along with my usual breakfast of egg whites and a protein shake, I've had a strong, black coffee. It hasn't helped wake me up. Everyone is getting on my nerves. Especially Sam.

He's late to our session, faffing about in the bathroom. When he finally does get ready and helps us get the boat on, he drops the oars on the ground with a clatter, totally distracted. He's just done his erg trial and come in second, behind me. He seems put out.

‘Careful!' I say. ‘Those cost five hundred dollars each.'

Sam picks up the oars and doesn't even look at me.

I'm still pissed at him for doing the dirty on Leni, but I'm trying to hold back my brotherly protectiveness. If we didn't have to row in a crew together I would've given him a full spray.

In the boat Sam can't find the rhythm. He's a fraction off at the catch each time.

‘Quicker hands, Sam,' I hiss at him, although I'm not supposed to coach from the boat.

Westie gets on his case and it makes him more rattled. The balance goes and we spend most of the row trying to recover it.

Julian loses focus when we pass by the girls' eight, staring at Rachel.

‘She's so hot,' he says, for the hundreth time this week.

‘Shut up, Julian!' Nick says. ‘We all know you have a stiffy for Rachel. Let's just try to have a halfway decent row.'

‘Boys! Sit forward and stop pissing about!' says Westie.

‘I hate this,' I mutter in the boat as Westie calls for another timed piece. Thirty minutes of heavy work. I miss the feeling of connection that we had in last year's boat. When every row got us closer to the victory podium. When we couldn't lose.

‘Don't say that,' says Adam.

‘I'll say whatever I like,' I snap. ‘You know this crew is crap compared to last year.'

At the catch I smack my blade into the water in frustration, messing up the balance of the boat.

‘Oooh, err, who's in a strop this morning?' says Mal.

‘Back off, man,' I warn.

As we settle into a long row down the river, I can't even enjoy the incredible beauty of this place – its misty paddocks, fat, moony cows hanging over fences and staring at us. There's no time to be. No time to relax. The pressure is even bigger than it was in the seconds. We have to win. Now, I've broken all those records, everyone thinks I'm the guy that's going to win it for them.

Despite her best efforts to avoid me, Penny and I end up standing on the trailer together at final loading, feeding the boats carefully onto their steel racks. Our job is to throw straps over the curved hulls to secure them in place. My knots look like a dog's breakfast, hers are neat and precise. Seeing her calms the anxiety beating like a bird in my chest. Being near her makes me feel okay.

‘Nice. Girl Guides?' I ask, as she winds the rope nimbly around her fingers.

‘Sailing. Dad has a catamaran at Port Melbourne.'

I find it easier to talk when my hands are busy, so I keep chattering nervously. Sensing the ice starting to thaw with her.

‘How was your summer?'

‘My family travelled overseas. Sri Lanka and India. It was amazing.'

‘I'd love to go to India,' I say. ‘And Europe. Africa. Eygpt. South America. America. Everywhere actually.'

‘Romania?' Penny asks.

‘Especially Romania. I was born here, in Melbourne. But we went back when I was five to visit my grand­parents
. I can't remember it. Not properly. Where did you go?'

‘Unawatuna in Sri Lanka, for the beaches, mainly. Mum said she wanted to do the whole lie on the sand and do nothing thing. Which personally I can't stand. Then we went to India which was Dad's pick.' She sighs, looking wistful. ‘We did a tour to Delhi, Agra, Jaipur. Temples, amazing people. Crazy, delicious food. I want to go back as soon as I can.'

‘Hey, Pen, sorry about that night at the party.'

She stops knotting and looks up. ‘Sure. I'm over it,' she says lightly.

It feels so easy. How come I made it such a big drama in my head?

Another boat cuts between us in the trailer. I imagine Penny and I backpacking across India. We're at a bustling train station waiting for our ride to the next town and she's leaning on her battered backpack, writing in her journal. I'm behind her, taking her photo. We have the whole trip ahead of us and she looks back at me and smiles.

Leni

After training Laura gives me the news I've been waiting for. Longing for.

‘Good news, Leni, you're back in stroke.'

‘Permanently?'

‘Nothing is permanent in rowing, but I don't have plans to make more crew changes.'

‘Thank you so much,' I say. ‘I won't let you down this time.'

‘Don't thank me. You were a different rower out there today. Usually you try to bully the water but today you let it run. There was light and shade. Controlled power. It was beautiful to watch. Keep rowing like this and you've got a huge future in this sport.'

I smile and feel a burst of happiness in my chest. Yesterday I thought I was a failure, today I have a huge future and a new boyfriend.

Rachel and I make a run for the bus. There's a double seat in the middle, which means I have to walk past Sam to get there. He's been out with his crew most of the day and we haven't had a chance to talk. He must be exhausted. I try to make eye contact, but he's got a window seat, head rested on the glass, eyes closed.

‘Take me home Mr Bus Driver,' says Rachel. ‘Rachel needs hot shower. Mum's cooking. TV. Sleep.'

The back of Sam's head is three seats away. I wish we were sitting together. That he was running his thumb along my hairline, lulling me to sleep. I can't wait until we're officially a couple.

Ten minutes into the ride home, Rachel is slumped over, snoring. Half the bus is out cold. Even some of the coaches. My body aches and my eyes are heavy, but I can't drop off. Sam has his headphones in the entire way home, sleeping and then texting on his phone. We can talk once we're back in the city. There's so much to work out between us, but I know how he feels now. How I feel. That's all that matters.

The bus stops outside the boatsheds. We don't get to go right home, even though we're tired, hungry and stinky. We have to unload the boats and get them back on the racks in the shed. Everyone complains about having to do more work. I can't – it's my job to be positive and captainly. Luckily, so does Sam. We'll be here working side by side for another few hours.

‘Come on, get off you lot!' shouts Laura. ‘Go help Mr Poppa get the boats ready for next week's first session.'

Rachel uses the edge of her T-shirt to wipe drool from her bottom lip.

‘When will this torture end?' she asks.

Rachel shuffles in front of me down the aisle. Sam tries to cut in front of her, but she pushes past sleepily, leaving him no choice but to step out in front of me.

I smile at him and we make eye contact. I'm expecting him to give me a wink or even surreptitiously touch my hand. But the moment I look at his guilty face, hunched shoulders and sad eyes, I know. Sam regrets last night. Deeply.

‘I'm sorry,' Sam says. ‘But I can't do this.'

I'm lying on the floor of my room, in the dark, curled up in the foetal position. I'm listening to break-up music, crying so hard my throat is raw and there's salt on my tongue. There's a knock at the door. I made it through dinner, but only just. The second I closed the door to my room I fell apart.

‘Go away!' I shout.

‘No!' Cristian says, letting himself in and turning on the lamp next to my bed. My room is too neat, orderly and clean for this level of heartbreak. It needs to be trashed, like my heart.

‘Adele's greatest hits. That bad?'

I can't even lift my head off the floor. I stare at his feet, tears running down my face. I'm not sure I can survive this. Cristian sits down on the floor and puts his hand on my head. It's warm and familiar.

‘Broken heart?'

‘Smashed.'

‘Sam?'

‘How'd you know?'

‘I hoped you'd get over it. He's
such
a douche bag. What did he do to you this time? Give me a reason to deck him and I'll do it.'

‘Lied. Cheated. Stole something from me that he didn't deserve. I thought he was single and he wasn't, so I let my guard down, let him in.'

‘Leni Popescu, you let someone past the armed guards?'

‘I regret it.'

‘Don't. You could afford to off-load a few pieces of chain mail. Okay, put your hand on your heart,' says Cristian.

I roll on my back and place my palm over my chest. We have always done this. Since we were little kids.

‘Repeat after me: I am braver than I believe, stronger than I seem, and smarter than I think.'

‘I'm not.'

‘You are. Say the words.'

‘I am braver than I believe, stronger than I seem, and smarter than I think,' I say. ‘Where's that from?'

‘Winnie the Pooh,' says Cristian. ‘It's on
your
inspiration board.'

I look over at the board. Vaguely remember writing it down on a piece of pink paper in silver pen when I didn't know anything about anything.

‘There's only one thing for a smashed aorta and that's to get your head off the ground and go and look at something beautiful.'

‘No, thanks.'

Cristian pulls my arms off the floor and the rest of my body follows.

‘Yes, you'll thank me later.'

Cristian takes me to the
Birrarung Marr
parkland, on the North Bank of the Yarra. Far enough away from our boatshed to allow me to feel peaceful.

‘
Birrarung
means river of mists,' says Cristian, as we wander the park, the sun dimming in a cloudy sky.

‘And
Marr
?'

‘Means side.
Riverside.
'

‘How do you know that?' I ask.

‘I know lots of things. Come on. I want to show you something.'

He makes me stand in the middle of the Federation Bells. A small forest of golden cups, held up to the city skyscrapers on steel poles. The tops of the bells glow orange, like fire pokers.

‘Listen. They're about to play.'

We wait with a handful of tourists getting their phones ready to capture the moment. The bells begin to clang and chime like church bells, making my skin crackle and my lips hum. It's wonky, out of tune, pure and beautiful all at the same time. It matches what I feel inside so perfectly. How did Cristian know this was the right place to take me? Of the two of us, he got all the sensitivity. When it's finished, Cris buys me a hot chocolate from a cart and we sit and drink together, looking out to the water.

‘Feel a bit better?'

I shrug my shoulders. They feel heavy.

‘A bit. Thanks for getting me off the floor.'

I'm far from okay, but at least I can see myself getting out of bed in the morning. Maybe I'll survive this.

February

Two months to Head of the River

Cristian

Mum drags me out for coffee on my rest morning at local institution,
Aquilana Pasticceria
. We've been coming here with her forever. She won't be lured into the hip organic-coffee, free-range-egg and biodynamic-tomato places that have grown up around it like weeds. She says it's because the coffee here saved her life. When we were little she would bundle us into the double pram and come here to escape the house.

‘Someone would always talk to me,' she told me. ‘Even though I had mashed banana on my T-shirt and I was going out of my mind from lack of sleep. This place would plug me back into the world, and give me a strong dose of caffeine to get me through the day.'

We walk in past the glass cabinet of old-school pastries, shell-shaped and heavy on the marzipan, and take our regular seats at the window. The tables are plastic and wobbly and have been here as long as I've been a customer.

‘Jodie! Cristian!' says the owner, Angelo, beaming. He always wears a pristine white apron and treats me like I'm his long-lost grandson. ‘The usual?'

The usual is an espresso for mum and a chocolate milkshake, extra ice-cream for me.

‘Yes, thank you,' says Mum.

‘No thanks, Angelo, I'll get a skinny cap,' I say.

I'm grumpy this morning and can't seem to wake up. I need caffeine. I'm also off ice-cream, full-cream milk and sugar. Looking around the café I couldn't eat anything on display. Mum turns to me with an intense look as Angelo busies himself behind the counter.

‘I won't muck around. Darling, I'm worried about you.'

My heart sinks. She's taken me to a public place so I won't be able to throw a fit, walk away and close the door to my room. I'm trapped.

‘Why Jodie?' I say, using her first name to remind her I'm an adult now.

‘What are your plans for next year? You seem a bit … lost.'

My plans didn't extend much further than the Head of the River. After that I'd try not to fail my Year Twelve. I couldn't see myself at a desk studying next year. Or the year after. I didn't want to go to uni but I couldn't say the words out loud.

Like most migrants my dad had big dreams of Leni and I becoming mega-rich doctors or lawyers. Mum was a bit more realistic but she didn't want us to potter around on a minimum wage like Dad or work shifts at midnight like she did. She also imagined us in clean offices, driving nice cars and buying big houses. I didn't know how to tell them they weren't my dreams. I wanted to walk the earth and see as much of it as possible.

‘I'm not lost,' I say, cringing at the snap in my voice. The muggy café closing in like an unwanted hug.

‘I'd like you to think beyond the Head of the River. Your dad was so focused on the Olympics. Afterwards, he was like a rudderless boat, going in circles. He hadn't planned for life after that event. Think about the big picture is all I'm saying. University choices, your exams. These things are far more important than one race.'

‘I'm stressed, Mum. I'm doing eight training sessions a week plus regattas. Trying to get my marks back up. I don't need you putting any more pressure on me.'

‘Okay, okay. Don't get angry. That's the other thing, Cris, you don't seem yourself these days,' she says, carefully. As if I might detonate.

‘What does that mean?'

‘You've lost a lot of weight, very quickly. I'm worried it might have taken a toll.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘You seem withdrawn, sweetheart. Tired. You haven't been sleeping well either, have you? I've seen your light on at night.'

Angelo produces our coffees with a flourish and puts a heavy almond biscuit on the side of my cup. I ignore it and stay quiet, stirring the fluff on my tasteless coffee.

‘I see this sort of thing at the hospital. Kids struggling with eating and weight loss. It can be easy for it to get out of control. To become a problem.'

‘I'm not struggling with anything. Are you insinuating
I have an eating disorder or something? That's a girl thing. I
lost the weight. Made the crew. You should be happy.'

‘The question is, are you happy?' Mum says.

‘Of course I am,' I lie. ‘Why wouldn't I be?'

We sit in silence until our coffees are finished. Under the table I tap my foot on the floor impatiently.

‘I'll be late for school, can I go now?' I ask, leaping out of my seat.

Mum stops me as I try to leave, putting her hands on my shoulders.

‘I love you, Cris.'

‘Mum, this is a public place.'

She hugs me. ‘I don't care. Remember I'm here for you if you need to talk.'

‘I don't need to talk,' I say, ‘I'm fine. Stop worrying so much.'

Leni

I'm lying in a sweaty puddle on the floor of my room, listening to sad music. It's a billion degrees and the overhead fan is doing nothing but moving hot air around.

I'm pining for Sam. He told me he'd had second thoughts after our night on rowing camp. That he wasn't properly broken up with Bee. That he really couldn't start something with me because he wasn't technically single. Blah-blah-de-blah. I should be consumed with bitter rage, but I feel ripped off. Stupid. Used. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. I thought the first guy I slept with would love me back. Or at least be unattached. Why did I believe him, so easily? When he'd deceived me once before.

Thankfully, my phone rings. ‘Yeah?' I answer listlessly.

‘I'm sweating like a whore in church,' Audrey says. ‘Meet me at the pool in ten.'

I haven't had much time to catch up with Audrey since her trip. I've been so bunkered down with rowing and my misery over Sam.

‘But I … '

‘No buts, get your bathers and come.'

The pool is the Fitzroy Pool. We're lolling in the toddlers wading section dipped in a few inches of heavily chlorinated water. It's past seven at night, but the air's still toasty. There's no other place to be than in a body of water. The rest of the suburb is here as well, and it's hard to find a spot to put your bag, let alone your body. Audrey is eating a red icy pole and I'm eating a banana and biting back my feelings. My heart is badly bruised. Lately I'd been crying for no reason, sitting in my room or watching TV. Big, fat silent tears.

‘Are you okay?' Audrey asks. ‘You seem so sad.'

‘I just don't get it. Sam and I had this amazing night together. I really thought it was the start of us. But then … nothing. He won't even look at me at rowing.'

Audrey lowers her sunglasses.

‘Can I give you some tough love, sugar?'

‘Not too tough.'

‘I've only been with Kezza, so it's not like I'm the expert in matters of the heart. But I think real love is supposed to go in both directions. Sam isn't the one for you. He only seems to love himself. Plus, he's probably a psychopath. He certainly appears to be emotionally void.'

I start to cry, knowing that Audrey is right and wishing she wasn't.

‘He two-timed you. Beautiful, perfect you. He needs his head read.'

‘I know, but the
jtzooum
was fierce,' I say, through tears.

‘Let this Bee character deal with his broody, damaged, lying, cheater shtick. There are plenty of other dudes lurking. Kieren has this friend, if you can get around body odour, he's hot.'

I laugh, feeling cheered up. ‘Not Gavin?' I picture Gavin. He's nerdy cool, but not my type.

‘Yes, Gav! Don't you think he's sort of gorgeous in a
Big Bang Theory
way?'

‘No!'

A group of guys in speedos walks past us on their way to night-time squad training, carrying bags of flippers and kickboards.

We both stop talking and check them out. Audrey licks her icy pole suggestively.

‘Maybe we just need to ogle these swimming boys for a while. Get some eye candy on our plate. I missed you when I was on the road. Six weeks was too long to be away from my girl.'

‘Did you? I thought you'd have been too busy going to music festivals.'

‘Yeah, we did that 5 per cent of the time. The rest of the trip I had to live in a van that smelt like Kieren's feet and truck-stop food. The reality of driving off into the sunset, my dear.'

I smile. That's what I love about Audrey, she didn't try to airbrush her life.

‘Hey, Auds.'

I pause, wondering if she might tell me to get lost. Knowing that I can't survive Year Twelve without her. A lot rests on her answer to my next question.

‘Yeah, doll.'

‘Would you mind if I sit with you and the knit bitches again at school?'

Audrey sits up, her face serious. ‘I dunno. Things got weird there for a bit. You basically dumped us for Adam and his fancy mates. You really hurt my feelings.'

‘I made a mistake. You, Maz, Luc, Yvette. I want to hang out with you in my last year of school. Not just after hours. You're my tribe. I don't know what crazy juice I was drinking when we agreed to be friends outside school. I want more. I want recess and lunch access.'

‘You won't dump us for some hottie with a new car and good abs?'

I put my hand on my chest.

‘Brownie's honour.'

‘Well, okay then. I'll tell the girls. You'll be expected to craft with us, of course. Maybe you can crochet some rowing shorts.'

We smile at each other goofily and then Audrey grabs my head and dunks me under the cool water.

The Green Cup is a predictor for the Head of the River. Kind of like the Golden Globes, before the Oscars. It's been run by Parkview School since the 1960s and is a chance for everyone to show pony after rowing camp. Unfortunately for us, Melbourne's latest brutal heatwave won't break. At 9 am it's already thirty degrees and shaping up to hit forty by lunchtime. Everyone's trying to sniff out the cool change. When will it arrive? Where the hell is it?

‘So hot,' moans Cristian out the car window. ‘Why don't we have air conditioning?'

‘You want car with air con, you pay for it,' says Dad. Mum's working, so it's just the three of us today.

‘Let's get this over with,' Cristian says, looking like he's going to the gallows. Meanwhile, I'm itching to race. Since camp our crew feels united.

We pull up at the gates of Parkview and follow the ushers' direction to a space between a gleaming Range Rover and a BMW. Dad pulls gingerly into the grassy square.

‘Careful!' Dad barks as Cristian flings his door open and nearly takes a chip out of the BMW's immaculate paintwork.

‘I didn't even touch it,' Cristian says, glowering. Cris has been so on edge lately, everyone's been walking on eggshells around him.

‘What time's your heat, Leni?' Cristian asks as we wander towards our boat trailer in a throng of kids.

‘Ten thirty-two.'

‘Good luck out there,' he says, heading for the trailer. ‘Stay cool.'

‘Always.'

Dad and I keep walking towards the water. A shaved-ice stand is doing swift business, next to a table selling T-shirts and rowing gear. I peruse the goods and decide to spend some of my Target cash buying Rachel, Penny and I a pair of lucky undies. I know they're lucky undies because it's printed on the front of them, with a four-leaf clover embossed on the back.

‘Leni! Good luck!' says Amelia, the Year Nine girl I told off at rowing camp. She's wearing a green wig and fluoro zinc.

‘You too, Meils!' I shout back. ‘Stay out of the sun!'

‘I will!' she calls back.

We walk past a roped-off VIP area with the best view of the river. A sign states: INVITED GUESTS ONLY and inside waiters are serving chilled orange juice and croissants to a select few.

‘VIP?' my dad mutters. ‘What this VIP? This is rowing. Not nightclub. Ridiculous.'

I leave Dad and find Rachel and Penny in a physio tent set up by our school. Rach is getting her calves warmed up on the table. Penny is stretching on a mat.

‘Hey Captain!' Rachel says.

Her hair is in plaits, tied with green ribbons, even her toenails are school colours. If I'm the heart of the boat, Rachel is the spirit and Penny is the balance.

‘I got you girls something,' I say, taking out the undies and throwing the pairs at them. ‘You have to wear them for this race.'

Rachel finishes up her massage, grabs Penny's hand then runs to the loos to change. They return and flash me the waistband.

‘I won't wash them until the Head of the River,' says Rachel.

‘Eewww,' laughs Penny.

‘Laura wants us at the trailer in ten minutes for a race briefing,' I say. ‘Let's go.'

Cristian

I feel average today, but it's probably the heat. I strip off to my swimmers before the race and lower myself into the inflatable plunge pool our school has set up down by the sheds. I bob in the chilled water, looking up to the blue sky. There's not a single cloud to block out the pounding heat.

‘Ready to race, Poppa?' Adam says, getting into the pool beside me.

‘Sure, let's race,' I say, feeling my body temperature drop, my heart slow. I could almost fall asleep here. I'm missing at least four hours sleep and my body wants it back. I woke up at two and slept fitfully the rest of the night.

‘You might want to show a little more enthusiasm,' says Adam.

‘Yeah? Judging by how crap we've been training, I think getting too enthusiastic might be counterproductive.'

‘Come on, we're about to turn a corner. Today's the day, I can feel it. Let's rub Stotts's faces in a dominating win.'

‘Is your dad here?' I ask. Adam always gets more antsy when Mitch watches him race.

‘Took his private helicopter down from Portsea. Landed on the rugby fields. It's time to put our energy supplements to good use. Show the old man we're worth the dollars he pours into this rowing program.'