CHAPTER ELEVEN

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Ella couldn’t believe what a difference six months had made. Looking around the grounds of her beloved school as she sat in her very own Demons jersey nervously awaiting the referee’s whistle she had to pinch herself.

The Hanniford oval had undergone a complete facelift.

The grass was tended to lovingly by a retired groundskeeper. New undercover stands lined each side of the field. The goalposts had been replaced and the score board had been repaired and repainted, towering pride of place, over the proceedings.

All this was thanks to the hard work and fundraising efforts of the newly established P&C.

Two years ago when she’d had the principal’s job thrust upon her, Ella had tried to get a parents and citizens group up and running. She’d tried to engage parents. But nobody had been interested.

How things had changed.

She glanced at Jake. He was already prowling up and down the sideline like a caged beast. Even in his regulation dark glasses and baseball cap, he was all hard muscle and sleek lines. Everything he’d worked for — they’d worked for — was riding on the outcome of this match. The Hanniford Demons were battling it out with the Stafford Sabres for the last spot on the finals board.

They’d come a long way and made it by the skin of their teeth.

They had to do it. They just had to.

A short, decisive trill pierced the electric hum and the crowd roared as the Sabres kicked the ball toward their goal post.

“I’m going to throw up,” Ella said to Rosie.

“You say that every match,” Rosie murmured, her gaze firmly glued to the action.

“Yeah, but this time I think I mean it.”

“They’re going to be fine, babe.” Rosie turned to Ella and gave her hand a squeeze. “They’re going to kick some Sabre ass.”

Ella glanced at her best friend and smiled. The change in Rosie had been rather dramatic too.

Gone was the studded dog’s collar and the blood red lips had been replaced with demure clear lip gloss. There was colour in her wardrobe — blue jeans, some pinks, purples and oranges. The eyebrow piercing had been removed.

Even her language had been cleaned up.

She’d morphed into Doris bloody Day — with black hair.

Simon sat beside Rosie, his hand on her knee, his fingers drumming. She liked Simon, she really did. Rosie was in love with him and his support for the Demons had been unwavering.

But Ella wasn’t so sure it was good idea to change so dramatically for a man.

Another blast from the whistle brought her attention back to the game as a penalty was awarded to the Sabres. Ella buried her face in her palms. The game had been going for five minutes and already she couldn’t watch. She just couldn’t.

“Come on the Demons!”

Ella turned, viewing the crowded stand - another miraculous change. The Hanniford supporters, a sea of black and red complete with their signature red horn headbands, had turned out in force. As the season had progressed and the Demons had won more games, the stands had gradually filled with Hanniford families until it was a must-attend weekend event.

A lump rose in her chest as she gazed upon the entire school community packing the stands at this, their final home game. The sense of pride and accomplishment Ella felt glowed like a furnace deep inside her, warming her soul. Hanniford had finally found its mojo.

And she wasn’t about to let it go.

As she scanned the crowd she still couldn’t believe the changes the last six months had wrought had also managed to filter through to the student body. She’d hoped that they’d win a few footy matches and save their school from closure, maybe show her students that hard work and determination could pay off. But she’d never expected this.

It seemed the entire male student population had undergone a magical transformation. Every one of them had traded their awful, shaggy hairstyles for sleek number twos. It had been a gradual change to begin with, subtle, not something she’d noticed. But slowly, as the Demons had crept up the points ladder, more and more boys had joined the ranks. And, sitting here today, it was a sight to behold.

She could see eyes again, faces.

Another surprising outcome had been the gradual decline in her truancy rate not to mention the spring in everyone’s step, from the teachers to the students. Her staff was energized and kids who used to mope around with the weight of the world on their shoulders were walking tall, smiling at her, greeting her with enthusiasm.

With respect.

Greeting her like she was principal of the year.

But perhaps the biggest change of all had occurred in her. For a start, she never would have believed that she’d be voluntarily spending every Saturday perched on a hard wooden bench seat, watching a football match — not in a million years.

Six months ago, she’d have rather had root canal every Saturday.

Actually, not much had changed. In fact, she’d upgrade to electric shock therapy if it got her out of having to watch their most important game to date. She still thought football seemed ridiculously macho and kind of pointless but she couldn’t deny its positive effects.

She would be forever grateful to it — to Jake — for giving her back her school.

The crowd in the stand opposite started to roar and Ella turned to see what the excitement was about. One of the Sabres was storming toward their try line. Cameron and several Demons were hot on his heels and Ella felt like her heart was in her mouth.

Go Cam. Go Cam. Go Cam.

Even her relationship with Cam had come a long way.

Cameron was the happiest, the most settled she’d seen him since she’d dragged him out of Huntley and brought him to live with her. He attended school, he trained hard, he’d become polite and respectful. More talkative.

She knew that “close” was a ways off, but for the first time in two and a half years, Ella actually felt it was a possibility. He and Miranda, however, had become quite close, and it was encouraging at least to see that he had the capacity to form human relationships. He’d always been so distant; it was a relief to see him engaging finally.

Cameron reached out and grabbed the wiry halfback’s jersey and yanked on it, wrapping the speeding Sabre in a bear hug and pulling him to the ground. Everyone in the stand rose to their feet, cheering.

“Good tackle, Cam,” Jake called.

Ella watched as Cameron untangled himself from the wildly kicking Saber and stood, turning to Jake with a huge grin on his face. Her heart lurched in her chest. He adored Jake, hero worshipped him and as much as it rankled she knew she owed Jake a lot.

Their personal stuff aside, he had helped her connect with her brother.

A scrum was being formed as Ella continued to watch, her fingers gripping the edge of the narrow wooden bench she was balancing on. It was a Hanniford feed so it was important they got it the hell away from the opposition’s try line.

The Demons had the ball for ten seconds until a tricky intercept put the Sabres frighteningly close to their line again with a full six tackles to go.

Oh God! She couldn’t watch.

She looked away, her gaze falling on Miranda and Hanniford’s diverse cheer squad calling on the sidelines.

You wanna, you wanna, put us to the test?

You’re gonna be sad, you’re gonna be sorry

Cos we’re gonna win, don’t you worry.

Plump red and black pompoms fluttered through the air as the squad shook them high above their heads.

Ella had to admit, despite her initial misgivings, the squad was a credit to Miranda and Trish. A melting pot of genders and sizes and ethnicities, they had become an integral part of the Demons’ matches. They entered into another chant and Ella compared them to the Saber’s cheer leaders - tiny green and yellow outfits with micro skirts, plunging necklines and green Lycra hot pants with Sabers stamped across the ass.

The Demons - boys and girls - had red cotton leotards with mandarin necklines and black cargo-style pants that ended below their knees. They all wore the red devil-ear headbands. An image in black of a devil complete with pitchfork graced the front of the leotards. Hanniford Demons was emblazoned beside him. On the back of the leotard, and this was what Ella loved the most, it proclaimed Hanniford Demons Say No to Violence Against Women.

Even better was how the entire school, rallied by Miranda, had united to produce them. The senior textiles students had made the uniforms as part of their assessments and the art students had enthusiastically taken on the project of the leotard design from logo conception right through to the screen printing. And the P&C had paid for them.

Ella had been blown away by the way the project had been embraced by the students. Even now a hard ball of emotion threatened to choke her thinking about how everyone had pulled together.

And the squad looked amazing.

Not cutesy-pie like the Sabers but fit and strong and, with red and black stripes slashed on each cheek, warrior-like.

Miranda had even roped Cerberus into the team spirit, making the Jack Russell a doggy coat with “Hanniford Demons” handstitched across it. And, so he wouldn’t feel out of place, she’d modified a headband to give him his own pair of red horns.

Jake had taken one look at Cerberus that first time and rolled his eyes. But, like a true stray, Cerberus loved the attention and when he wasn’t sitting by Simon’s feet, he pranced up and down the sidelines, barking encouragement at his team.

A roar came from the Saber’s stand and Ella didn’t have to see to know the opposition had just scored their first try.

“Oh no,” she wailed and clutched Rosie’s hand.

“Don’t worry,” Simon said. “Plenty of time. It ain’t over till the last hooter sounds.”

Ella knew he was right but still her insides felt like they’d been scrunched in a tight ball and she watched the first half through the cracks of her fingers when she could bear to watch at all. When the half-time siren blew, the Demons were scoreless to the Saber’s twelve.

Ella went to the toilets and threw up.

When she ventured back, Pete, Jake and the team were huddled together. Seventeen sweaty teenage boys were drinking water and eating orange segments while Jake strategized, encouraged and praised in equal measure.

Ella approached. After assuring Jake she wouldn’t say break a leg again, it had become a tradition for her to talk to the team at the start of the match. But she wanted them to know that no matter what happened in the second half, she was proud of them.

“Ella?”

She hated how formal it was between them now. It was for the best, she knew, drawing a definitive line through their past, both distant and recent. But it seemed impossible to believe now that he’d looked at her with such blind lust not that long ago. That he’d pushed her onto a pool table and pounded into her until she’d had carpet burn on her ass.

“Don’t be discouraged, guys.” She gave them all a big smile, letting it linger on Cameron. “There’s another forty minutes. Anything can happen. Just remember, I’m so happy that we even got this far. You’ve done me and Hanniford proud.”

The whistle blew and the team ran back onto the ground. Miranda led the squad in a cheer and the Hanniford crowd yelled, “Go Demons,” and “Demons rule.” Ella stood beside Jake and watched them get into position, her gut twisting harder.

Jake glanced at her. “You okay?” 

“Fine.”

“You look like you’re going to throw up.”

She gave him a weak smile. “Already accomplished.” There were a few moments of silence and then she asked, “They’ve been playing well though, haven’t they?”

He chuckled. “How would you know that? You’ve been sitting there with your hands over your face.”

“I can’t bear to look!”

He nodded. “I know the feeling.”

This was the most personal conversation they’d had, just the two of them, since that night. It gave her courage to say what had to be said.

“Look, Jake, I know there’s some...stuff between us. That we have our...issues.” She peeked at him, gauging his reaction but he was watching the field, his dark shades giving nothing away, the shadow from the brim of his cap throwing his face into hard-to-read lines.

“But I just want you to know that I’m more than aware you’ve given this your all. I know you were coerced into it and this wasn’t how you planned to spend your retirement. And it’s okay that we didn’t make it. You gave it your best shot.”

Very slowly he turned his head to look at her. He removed his glasses and Ella almost took a step back at the cold hard, glitter of his eyes.  

“Listen to me very carefully,” he said, his voice low. “We’re going to win this match. And then we’re going to win the finals. And then we’re going to take out the Schools Cup. I may not have wanted this in the beginning, Ella, but I’m in now. And I play to win.”

Ella was captured by the blaze of conviction in his green gaze and the growl of menace in his low voice. She really, really wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe they could win.

“Jake. They’re ahead by twelve points.”

“Ella,” he cautioned. “Have some faith.” He replaced his glasses and turned his attention back to the field.

Dismissed, she returned to her seat. Trish Jones had joined Rosie and Simon and Ella smiled at her absently while she stewed on his reprimand. They’d been moving on the peripheries of each other’s worlds for so long now she’d forgotten how much of an impact he had close up.

The desire to communicate with him after that fateful Sunday morning had been non-existent. So they hadn’t, other than what was absolutely necessary, using a good-natured Pete as their intermediary. Their relationship had been strained at first but had moved to polite over the intervening months. Today was the first time he’d said anything of a personal nature at all.

In fact the only times she saw Jake these days were at the matches. Maybe an occasional glimpse around the school. He was courteous at those times and always allowed her a few minutes for her pep talk before each match but that was where it ended. She’d have to have been blind to miss the major keep out signs posted in his impersonal green gaze.

Fine with her; she’d asked him to coach her team to success and so far he was bang on target — the rest was immaterial. And if, late at night, she still woke with a throb between her thighs and an empty ache in her gut, then that was too bad.

Although her thoughts on what he’d done had mellowed somewhat. God knew she’d turned it over in her mind a thousand times. Jake had been fifteen when he left Huntley. A boy. A testosterone-driven, screw-anyone-who-said-yes teenager. And the entire town knew that Rachel was Huntley’s favourite yes-woman.

Most of the guys Ella had gone to school with had paid Rachel for sex — God knew they weren’t going to get it any other way.

Why should Jake have been any different?

Just because she’d felt some feeble connection with him back then didn’t mean he had. But she’d have bet her life on the fact that he’d felt it too. Why else would he have kissed her that night of the dance?

Maybe that’s what made her so mad?

Okay, it hadn’t been much of a kiss — much of anything, really. It certainly hadn’t meant undying love or eternal fidelity. But it had meant something to her. The fact she was cut up about something that had to have happened over twenty years earlier told her how much.

Could the lips that had touched hers so gently, so tentatively, at that high school dance really have touched Rachel’s first?

Had she tutored him in how women liked to be kissed? Where they liked to be touched? All their secret places? Did she have her mother to thank for that thing Jake did?

Ella shuddered and dragged her attention back to the game. Such thoughts were futile. She’d already let them torture her enough, had already given them too much power.

Thankfully Hanniford chose that moment to score a try and thoughts of Jake and Rachel and Huntley and her screwed up personal life were completely obliterated as the crowd surged to their feet and she joined them.

She spent the next half-hour on the edge of her seat, hiding behind her fingers as the game progressed. With two minutes to go, Hanniford was trailing by four points. The crowd behind her were stomping their feet on the wooden floor of the stands and her heart thundered along in time.

Sixty seconds out, Hanniford scored a try, levelling with the Sabers, and the supporters went wild.

“So, if they convert the try, we win, right?” Ella asked Trish, trying to convince herself more than anything. Because of the comp points system, they had to win, not draw, to progress to the finals.

“That’s right.’ Trish grinned.

“Oh God. Tell me what happens.” Ella buried her face in her hands.

Rosie gave her knee a squeeze and the sudden silence after so much noise was preternaturally eerie. Everyone held their breath as the Hanniford centre lined up his kick at a very tricky angle.

“What’s happening?” Ella whispered as the silence stretched.

“He’s taking a moment,” Trish assured. “It’s a lot of pressure.”

“See, it’s at times like this I wish I was religious. I guess it’s a bit hypocritical to pray?”

“Jesus,” Rosie murmured. “Do you want the poor kid to convert the goal or be struck down by lightning?”

And then a boot sent the ball flying through the goal posts and the crowd went crazy.

“We did it?” Ella asked, rising to her feet with everyone else. “We did it.”

“Yes,” Rosie yelled crying and laughing all at once. ‘We did it.”

“Oh my God!” Ella wailed as Rosie and then Trish hugged her, “Oh my God! We did it. We did it!”

She turned to the field to see Jake and Pete running on and the team huddling together in a big group hug. “We did it,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes and streaming down her face.

The boys picked Jake and Pete up and carried them off the field. The Hanniford supporters surged forward, the cheer squad swarmed around and Ella, Rosie and Simon got swallowed by the crowd, revelling in the love.  

Cameron gave her a bear hug that lifted her off the ground.

“We did it,” he said, grinning down at her.

Ella almost fell over from the shock at such a show of affection and was glad he was still hanging on to her.

“You did it,” she said, beaming. “You did it.”