Head of the River (8 page)

Scared, I click off the pages and clear my search history.

They have to put in all the worst side effects. Most of the time that stuff never even happens. I'm young. I'll be fine.

I grab my water bottle and press a pill from each packet, wash them down before I chicken out.

Maybe I'll wake up looking like Sam.

I text Adam.

Took them. U nxt

He replies straightaway.

Already done it.

I feel scared, excited and guilty all at once. It's not the worst feeling in the world. But it's not the best, either.

November

Five months to Head of the River

Leni

It's family dinner but there's not much talking. Cris and I are so tired from training, we can hardly lift our forks. Everything has stepped up a notch. Our mileage on the river, school, exams. The end of the year is in sight. The air is warmer, purple flowers are blooming on the jacaranda tree, summer is close. I'm scraping my plate clean but I notice Cris hasn't eaten a thing. Even though it's a healthy meal with lots of vegies. So does Mum.

‘Cris, what's up?' she asks. ‘You've hardly touched your meal.'

He bristles and lets out an irritated sigh.

‘I'm not hungry.'

Mum looks at Dad as if to say ‘get involved'.

‘Leave the poor boy alone, Jodie. He's not four years old. He doesn't have to finish everything on his plate.'

‘Thank you,' Cristian says to Dad. He gets up, dumps his full plate in the sink and goes to his room.

‘Hey!' Mum calls out. ‘You're on wash-up Mister Teenage Angst.'

We all jump as the door to Cristian's room slams shut.

‘What's gotten into him lately?' Mum says.

Dad and I shrug.

‘Seconds syndrome?' I say. ‘May I be excused? I've got
to study. Exams.' I've been cramming hard and there's so
much left to learn. I'll be pulling a late one tonight and
every other night this week. You can't get straight As
and not lose sleep and your social life.

Dad eyes off the mess in the kitchen and sighs.

‘Go.'

As I head down the hall Dad calls out.

‘Tell Cristian to hit book, too!'

‘Cris, do some study!' I yell at his bedroom door, which is shut and probably locked. He's been acting so strange lately. All secretive and withdrawn.

I study for exactly an hour before my phone beeps, giving me a ten-minute break. I call Adam, but the call goes to message bank. I'd been speaking to his recorded message more than him lately.

‘Hey, it's Leni. Want to panic about exams together? I could not be more stressed about chem.'

I wait for the phone to ring or maybe a reassuring text. But there's nothing. I'm not imagining it. Adam is backing off. Maybe I'd gotten too close to knowing what his perfect life is really like behind those iron gates.

I fire up Facebook and check my friend request status. Still nothing from Sam in over a week. I refresh the page. Nothing. I'm embarrassed and I want to explain that Audrey sent the request, not me, but then I would also have to admit I was Face-stalking him in the first place.

Audrey reckons I should withdraw my offer of friendship.

‘Who waits ten days to reply to a friend request? What a tosser.'

‘Maybe he doesn't check it that often,' I say.

‘Maybe he's not worth your time, doll.'

Doll.
Only Audrey could use that expression and get away with it.

Cristian

In my room I try to blow off the simmering anger from dinner by doing pull-ups on the bar Dad installed for me from the doorframe. I can do five before my arms start to wobble. I fall to the carpet and lie with my feet up on the wall, panting.

I feel weird since I started on the drugs. I have too much energy and not enough focus. I don't feel like study­ing, even though I need to. I'm already behind and soon I'll have to sit a barrage of three-hour exams. I need to talk to my teachers, fit in extra study, but all I can think about is getting back in the firsts and dropping this weight.

My stomach makes a weird gurgling sound. I should be starving, but the pills have dulled my appetite. Mum's suss. I need to work out a way to put her off the scent. She's smart though. It will take some dodging.

I pull my scales out from under the bed. They're dusty. I've hidden them there because just looking at them makes me anxious. I never know what they'll say and how the numbers will make me feel. Usually this is where I'd shove them back under the bed and ignore them for another few months. But I'm curious what's happening to my body. I stand on them. Hoping for the best.

I've already lost.

‘Yes!' I say to myself, pumping my fist and shadow-boxing around the room. I've taken back control of my weight. It feels good.

‘In your face, Westie,' I say.

Lost 3.3
I text to Adam.

Gained 1.1
he texts back.

Winning!
I text.

Leni

I catch up with Adam at his locker after morning assembly, but he seems cagey. I tap him on the shoulder and he jumps, slams his locker door shut and looks at me like I'm trying to spy on him.

‘What's up, Leni?' he says.

I look at his school blazer. There's literally no space for any more achievements. He has a prefect pocket, house colours, rowing colours, six sports badges. When you look at him, Adam seems like the model student. Closer in, I can see he's struggling.

‘Get my message?' I ask, sounding more hurt than I thought I was. What is it about someone backing off that makes them more interesting?

‘I did. Sorry I didn't get back to you. I was studying and had my phone off.'

‘Want to meet at the gym at lunch?' I ask. ‘Weights?'

We hadn't been training together lately, study had taken precedence.

‘Mmm,' Adam looks distracted. ‘I can't today. Cris and I are lifting together. It's a heavy session.'

‘I'll come too.'

‘No. That's okay. I'll see you later, at the river.' He traces a line under my bottom lip, which fails to give me the
jtzooum
. ‘I'm going to take you out to dinner. After exams. When everything settles down. Would you like that? Vue du Monde?'

I have absolutely no idea what Vue Du Monde is, but judging by the other hatted restaurants Adam has taken me too, it'll be amazing.

I put my finger gently on his scar. It's healed beautifully.

‘Yes. Let's do that.'

Maybe I would break up with Adam after we went to Vue Du Monde. Maybe I wouldn't.

Another morning session and it's muggy. A gust blows across the water, along with a flurry of rain. The wind is pushing the boat around. Behind me, Rachel is at it again.

‘I'm freaking staaaarving,' she moans as we wind up another hard piece. We are racing short-burst 500s against the seconds and they've pipped us twice. Morale is low.

I finish the piece and bend over my knees, breathing hard. Feeling the blood burning and coursing under my skin.

‘I forgot my water bottle,' Rachel says. She doesn't even sound out of breath. ‘Does anyone have any spare H
2
O?'

Every comment she makes scratches at my gut.

‘This isn't junior rowing!' I snap. ‘Someone give Rachel some bloody water.'

Aiko passes her bottle down the boat and I turn around and virtually throw it at Rachel.

She's fixing a clip in her hair. I roll my eyes and sigh.

‘Don't be so passive aggressive, Leni,' Rachel says, smiling. ‘Say what you really think.'

‘I think you should stop doing your hair and put in a little effort on the blade.'

‘I am making an effort.'

‘Enough chatter girls!' shouts Laura from her bike. ‘Sit forward!'

I blast off the first few strokes with all the anger and frustration I feel towards Rachel. It works against me. I catch a crab and totally lose it. The boat swings sideways and we have to easy oar or risk slamming into the bank.

‘Really?' I shout at the sky.

Rachel comes after me in the change room.

‘What's your problem with me, Leni?'

‘I'm here to win, Rachel. That's all. I don't know if that's why you're here too.'

‘I want to win. But it's not so easy for the rest of us mere mortals. I don't have
Olympians
for parents.'

‘That doesn't guarantee me a spot in the firsts, you know. I have to work for it, too.'

When I was eight and I won the 800 metres at Little Athletics one of the parents said of course I had won, considering who my parents were. I cried and Mum told me that from then on, every victory was mine. I owned them. She and Dad had absolutely nothing to do with it.

‘Nothing's been handed to me on a silver platter. I don't have a trust fund and unlimited pocket money.'

Rachel laughs. ‘And you think I do?'

‘Why wouldn't you?'

‘My dad works two jobs to keep me at Harley, so he never, ever sees me race. Neither does my mum because she's got more than enough on her plate without having to worry about my rowing schedule. You want to know about my life? How easy it is? Do some research. I think you'll find it isn't such a pleasure cruise.'

‘Join the club.'

We stare at each other for a few seconds. Totally unresolved and in a worse place than before.

Rachel shrugs.

‘See you at land training. Hopefully I can put in a little more
effort
.' The word is loaded with sarcasm.

With wet hair and my backpack on I fly down the stairs of the boatshed towards the Swanston Street tram stop. I need to get away from Rachel, the teeming boatsheds and the rank smell of river water.

Laura stops me. ‘Wait! Leni!'

‘I'm late!' I say, backing off. ‘My tram leaves in three minutes.' I'm looking for an excuse not to have to talk about my terrible row this morning.

‘I'll give you a lift to school.'

‘Oh, okay.' I can't turn it down.

Laura's Mazda is full of training gear, bike parts and uni papers. She's studying to be a PE teacher. It's fair to say she's my idol. If I could somehow be her, I would probably take the option. I'm nervous and tongue-tied in her company. Especially outside of training. I surreptitiously check her out. Her legs are comically long, completely hairless, tanned and thick with muscle. Her arms are sculpted and lean, shoulders wide, hips narrow and stomach flat. I'd bet she has a sixpack under her tight T-shirt. She makes me feel like a weakling.

Laura throws an Australian team cap on her head and heads out on the road. I feel sick with anticipation. What does she want to discuss? I stay quiet as we navigate the atrocious morning traffic, inching like a river of honey towards the school.

‘Have you been worried about exams?' she asks.

‘Yeah,' I admit. Who doesn't worry about exams? I'd been flat out for weeks colour-coding, spreadsheeting, revising, researching, reading. I'd worked so hard some nights it felt like my eyeballs were bleeding. That, on top of my rowing training, had made for a full-on end to the year.

‘Feeling the pressure in stroke?'

‘No,' I say, sharply.

‘I could move you down the boat you know. Give you a time-out?'

‘I like my seat. I don't want to switch.'

Part of my dream is to be sitting in the stroke seat when we win Head of the River.

‘It wouldn't be permanent, just to give you a little breathing space to get back in the game,' Laura says.

When did I leave the game?

‘You know, I didn't win my Head of the River,' she says, changing the subject. ‘Didn't even make the semis. Got knocked out in a repechage. I thought it was the end of the world. Bawled.'

‘I couldn't handle that,' I say. ‘Not this year. We've worked so hard.'
I've worked so hard.

I can see no future where I don't have that medal in my hand. Losing is not an option.

‘I don't even remember who won it that year,' says Laura.

What's she hoping to achieve with this chat. It's not even a little bit inspiring.

‘You know what I do remember?' she says. ‘
My crew
. We had so much fun. I had more laughs in that boat than any other I've been in since. I loved those girls. Still do.'

‘I don't even think my crew likes me,' I admit.

‘They look up to you,' says Laura.

‘That's not the same thing.'

‘True. But respect is the basis for any friendship. Let them in a little, okay? This is your last season as a schoolgirl, Leni. Enjoy it. It gets a lot tougher when you leave school, trust me.'

‘I want to win so badly,' I say. I'm nearly in tears.

‘You might win, but you might not. You're very hard on yourself. Don't forget, rowing is what you do, not who you are. If you fail from time to time, that's part of learning.'

‘Do I have to give up the stroke seat?'

‘Yeah. Sorry, kid, that's my call.'

I'm fighting back tears when I get out of the car but Laura punches me lightly on the arm.

‘Hey, don't forget to love it out there. No matter where in the boat you're sitting.'

I bump into Sam in the library during my double free. We are the only people in the Ethel Jillaby memorial study room. It's a small room. He notices me. My eyes are still red from crying. I feel fragile and wobbly. I try to back away, but he's already clearing a space opposite him at the table.

‘Sorry. Taking over the joint,' he says. ‘There's plenty of room.'

‘How's your boat going?' he asks. Stretching his neck from side to side and taking a study break.

I shrug, tears welling up. I wipe them back with my fist, but he sees them.

‘What's wrong?'

‘Nothing. I've got heaps to do. Let's study.'

Sam gets up from his side of the table, walks around to mine and crouches down so we are face-to-face. So close I can see he has a light monobrow and the beginnings of a cold sore on his lower lip.

‘What's wrong, Leni?'

‘I got dropped from the stroke seat.'

‘You like it there? Up the front?'

‘Yeah. I don't know what's going on. Last few sessions it's been struggle street.'

Sam nods. ‘Me too.'